“You’ve had enough,” he says.
I cock my head to the side, like I didn’t hear him right. I turn and ask, “What?”
He stands straight and still, not taking his coat off. “Three years, three years of impossible hours, late nights,of me pushing you to the brink.” His jaw tightens, and I can tell he’s having a hard time being so open. But his voice is calm and steady. “Last night, you’d reached your limit.”
I let out a sharp, stabbing laugh. “You actually noticed?”
He ignores the jab, closing the distance between us, until he’s close enough to make my skin prickle. “I’ll ease up on the last-minute requests.” His tone is clinical and cold, like he’s in a boardroom laying out a contract for a client, instead of talking about my sanity. “You’ll stay with the company. You’ll finish the Morozov proposal. And, in return, I’ll give you space to breathe. Maybe even put some more consideration toward your… how do you say?Work-life balance.” He says the term like it’s the most ridiculous thing he can think of. But he’s taking me seriously.
My mouth drops open. “You’re negotiating with me?”
He shrugs. “You’re a valuable employee. It would be foolish of me to let you leave so easily. And naturally, if this merger works out, you’ll profit nicely from it. A raise, some stock options, maybe even a little sabbatical to clear your mind after all your hard work.”
It sounds good. But something occurs to me—he’s sidestepping the other issue. Is this all some way to butter me up so I forget about last night?
“So that’s it? No apology? No ‘sorry for screwing you on the desk, like some animal in heat, Gabriella? Maybe I overstepped my bounds a little?’”
He doesn’t react at all. “You didn’t stop me.”
My pulse stutters. “That’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
He leans in, his shadow falling over me. His eyes are hypnotic this close up, those little pools of oil. “We both had our fun. Let’s not pretend we didn’t. But now, we’re talking business.”
My breath catches. For a long second, I can’t think, or move, or do anything else. I’m totally pinned by his heat and gaze and nearness.
“Not to mention,” he says. “I know you want this.”
“What do you mean?”
He stands up straight, the tension mercifully easing just enough to allow me to catch my breath. “This proposal.”
Oh.
“It’d be the challenge of your professional life to this point. You can be a pill. But you’re a hard worker and you have flashes of brilliance. You pull this proposal off, give me something I can use, it’d be one of the greatest professional achievements of your career.”
He’s right. But I don’t admit it. Part of me hates how he can size me up with such ease.
“I should quit.”
He lets out a darkha. It was a mini-bluff, and he called it.
“Then quit. But you won’t.” He’s pushing me with his tone, daring me.
Goddammit. The man has me right where he wants me.
I go back to last night. I think about the speech I’d rehearsed. It’s not too late. I could stand up, straighten my spine, and let him have it. Hell, he’s inmyterritory. Iimagine ripping into him, making Sasha Orlov himself leave with his tail between his legs.
But it’s total bullshit. It wouldn’t go like that at all. I’d get two sentences into my grand speech, and he’d quirk his lips or make some comment, thenbam, we’re in my bedroom with him buried to the hilt in me, making me beg for it again.
Not going to risk it. Plus, he’s right. Idowant the challenge.
“You’re impossible.” It comes out limp, with all the power of a deflated balloon.
His mouth curves. “I think you’ve said such things about me before.”
I find a little courage, raising my finger at him. “I’m serious, though. No more late-night work ambushes, no more ruining my weekends with email edits or whatever at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night.” My voice wavers, but I’m not done. The next part is even more important. “And last night…”
He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Yes? What about last night?”
