Heat rushes through me. He’s toying with me again. “You want me to work for you, we pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Pretendbeing the operative word here.”
He knows it’s a ridiculous thing to demand, but I’m sticking to my guns anyway.
“You can make fun all you want,” I say. “But these are the terms. You need me for this merger. And if you want me to continue working for you, you have to give me something.”
Silence stretches between us. For a moment, I find myself wondering if he’s going to say no and leave.
Then his eyes narrow slightly, studying me. Finally, he inclines his head.
“Done.” His tone is smooth. Too smooth, almost.
“Good. Then we understand each other.”
“Perfectly.”
The word rolls off his tongue as smooth as silk. But it’s obvious that while his voice is saying one thing, his eyes are saying another.
I realize that he doesn’t believe my BS about putting it behind us, not for a second. My pose is rigid, shoulders square, arms crossed. “Then we’re done.”
Another ghost of a smirk, the kind of expression that sayswe’ve only just begun, the kind of smirk that makes me want to kiss him and claw his eyes out in equal measure.
He takes a step back, clears his throat, sets his jaw, and just like that, is back in business mode. “Very good. I’ll expect the outline for the preliminary proposal by the end of the d--” He catches himself, glancing aside. “At your earliest convenience, but the sooner the better, naturally.”
His tone is low, measured, as if this had all been nothing more than a regular business check-in. I almost laugh at him. His words are so absurdly polite, so unlike him, that it almost feels like a joke. I catch the flicker in his eyes, command disguised as courtesy, a little pull of the leash, even as he pretends to let me run free.
Still, for Sasha Orlov, this is progress.
My mouth opens a bit as I try to find the right comeback, but nothing passes my lips. Not to mention that he’s already halfway to the door, his movements calm and measured, as always, like he knows he’s accomplished exactly what he’d set out to do. I’m unsettled, off-balance, and still burning for him—I’m sure that was all part of his plan, too.
“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow, bright and early.”
I listen to his heavy footsteps as he makes his way down the hall.
Then he’s gone, and there’s silence.
CHAPTER 5
GABBY
Six weeks later…
My life for the last month and a half has been an endless parade of spreadsheets, late nights, and enough caffeine to fuel an army. Somewhere between that nightwith Sasha and now, I decided to lock in, to stop bothering to even count the days.
And it’s worked. Not only am I on the verge of getting the first full draft of the merger done, but Sasha actually held to his word and backed off.
The threat did the job. Just like he said he’d do, he eased up—no late-night emails, no Sunday texts during brunch, no requests to stay super late. He’s still bossy, scary as hell, but there’s no doubt that something shifted. It’s like we’ve called a truce.
Truth is, it’s a little unnerving. Almost like I’d gotten psychologically hooked on his bossy bullshit. Or maybe he’d finally developed a little trust, realized I actually knowhow to do my job, and that micromanaging me like a child wasn’t helping.
Either way, the merger proposal draft is nearly finished. Almost two months of my blood, sweat, and Excel expertise poured into an offer that might just be good enough to get Johan Morozov to sayyes. But there’s a brutal deadline—if we don’t lock this thing down before the quarter closes and the SEC filing hits, AngelCorp won’t be able to move crypto assets in time. That would leave Sasha totally exposed in the market.
And that means my jobwould be vulnerable, too.
“So basically,” I mutter to no one in particular at my desk, rubbing my temples as I stare down the numbers, “the fate of Sasha’s empire rests on my pivot tables. No pressure.”
It’s not just Sasha’s annoyingly sexy ass on the line—my pride is, too. I’ve spent three years at AngelCorp, dealing with his power games and impossible demands. If I pull this proposal off, I’ll prove myself indispensable. I’d be able to get the hell out of this place and practically write my own ticket.
