My breath hitches as I imagine the feel of his big, thick dick stretching me out, filling my pussy with an exquisite, perfect burn, his huge hands gripping my hips as he drives into me again and again. Then his palms move up, sliding to cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples until they’re aching peaks.
Heat floods me, my core throbbing. I realize my hand’s drifting, fingers grazing the waistband of my panties. I want to let it slide down further, to make myself come to the thought of him plunging into me, burying himself like I’ve needed again ever since that night…
No.
I pull my hand away and blow out a breath.
“Get it together, Gabby,” I scold myself.
My cheeks flush, shame battling with the lingering ache between my thighs. What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m better than this. I have to be.
I grab my pen, scrawling a note across the margin of the printout I’m currently working from. The fire in my chest reignites. This isn’t just about the resume or the paycheck anymore. It’s not even about Sasha and his cryptic empire-saving bullshit.
It’s about me. It’s about proving I’m not some number cruncher he can just grind into dust.
When Sasha sees this proposal, it’s going to be the best damn offer of his life. And he’ll know exactly whose hands made it.
CHAPTER 7
SASHA
Ichose the meeting place myself. Neutral ground. Public enough to make a hit unlikely—messy, if he were to try. And private enough to talk. The place is a glass box of a restaurant, with white tablecloths and a view of the river. The staff knows how to be discrete. The kitchen runs like clockwork.
Bogdan walks in a half step behind me, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. I read his body language, watch his scan as he sweeps the room. He counts bodies, doors, reflections in the windows. He notes the couple at the bar, the pair of men in suits in the corner, the waiter with wrong shoes for fine dining.
I notice, as well, and file it all away.
“This is risky,” he says, the host stepping aside to let us pass. “Peter doesn’t like talks like this. He always thinks they’re traps. Good way to put him on edge before this even begins.”
“Good thing we’re meeting with Peter’s son and not Peter.”
“That’s another concern. If Peter finds out you’re meeting with Johan behind his back…”
“He won’t find out. Not until the merger’s gone through and there’s nothing he can do about it.”
Bogdan chuckles as we stride through the dining floor. “Risky move. It’s all very risky.”
“Please don’t make me repeat the cliché about risk and reward, my friend.”
We move through the main dining room to a back hallway that leads to the private offices. Areservedsign hangs from the doorknob, and a well-dressed waiter is there to open the door and welcome us in.
The room is set up for a private meeting. The table has two chairs on one side, two on the other. Who his second will be, I couldn’t guess. If it’s his father… I’ll worry about that if it happens.
I sit, and Bogdan takes the chair next to mine. I rest my hands on the linen. No drink yet. My body is still, but prepared. There’s a 90 percent chance this meeting goes how I expect it to. But it’s always the 10 percent one has to worry about. Much can live in that 10 percent.
“This meeting has been a long time coming,” Bogdan murmurs, gesturing to the waiter. “You ready?”
“Quite ready.”
The waiter zips in.
“Waters, please,” Bogdan says.
The waiter nods and leaves, returning with a carafe and two glasses. He pours one for me, one for Bogdan. Just as he prepares to step out again, Bogdan sticks his finger into the air. The waiter freezes. Bogdan lifts his glass, drinks it smoothly and slowly.
“Another, please.” The waiter obliges, then leaves. “This has always been thirsty work.”
