Tristan laughs at that. “Men in power. I suppose the Rozanovs have a certain amount of power. But you know what?” He steps close enough that I can feel his hot, tangy breath on my skin. “I have more.”
He lets the words sink in. Just long enough that my breathing goes jagged with fear at the unspoken part.
I can do whatever I want with you.
Ransome isn’t here.
Who’ll protect you now?
Then he steps back.
“This whole family feud we have going between us and them…” He clicks his tongue. “It’s outdated. As are family-run enterprises.”
“I feel like those work just fine when people know their place,” I say.
Tristan’s smirk stretches wider. He reminds me of the Joker. Or a snake. Either way, I don’t trust him.
As he talks, he continues to pace. Towards me, then towards the living room, stopping at the window and then back. Classic psycho behavior.
And yet, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind right now.
Burn Tristan can’t know that. If I let him know that, it’s over.
“I assume you’re talking about me.” His smirk shows teeth. “You’ve got more balls than half my men, I’ll give you that.”
It hits me just how dangerous this game is. Ransome doesn’t know I am here alone with Tristan. And I don’t know if he is coming to the penthouse tonight or going to his estate.
Because he left me. He had better things to do, so he left me alone.
After I got shot at because of him.
No. I can’t rely on Ransome. He showed me that today. If I want to get out of this little surprise encounter alive, I’ll have to handle Tristan myself. With the only weapon I’ve got.
Charm.
“I mean… I don’t really know you,” I say, changing my body language a little. Softening.
“True.” He nods. “Most people don’t. And I find that…” He clenches his fists, letting them tremble a little before unclenching them again. “Irritating.”
“I can understand that.” I’m full-on fawning now, but Tristan seems too pleased to care. Men like him have two weak spots: their dick and their ego. “I’ve spent a lot of my life fighting to be on top and never truly feeling like I could get there.”
“You don’t think I can get there?” He’s standing in front of me now, a note of irritation in his voice.
Shit.“I just know it’s hard,” I pivot. “Especially when other people are always in your way.” I make my voice lower. Velvety. The kind that makes men like Tristan feel flattered.
I pray to God that it works. He has a gun, and I don’t. All I have are my words and a body he’s already let me know he wants.
But he won’t take it now. I can read it on his face: he’s enjoying this. The thrill of the chase, the hunt. He wants me to leave Ransome’s side of my own initiative.
He wants me towanthim.
All I have to do is convince him he can make it happen. Even though there’s no way in hell I’ll bend over for the likes of Tristan Chadovich.
As he studies my face, his eyes darting over me in a way that makes me feel like I’m going to need to take a shower afterwards, his smirk broadens again. He’s close enough to touch me. Close enough that he could kiss me, if he felt like it.
My stomach sours at the thought.
Then, to my relief, he turns and saunters back towards the window.
