“Are you lying to me, Bella?”
I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze. “Would I have a reason to?”
His hand moves so fast I don’t have time to react. One second my phone is in my palm. The next it’s in his grip, and he’s holding it up between us like a piece of evidence.
“Unlock it.” His voice is hard as iron.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His voice is ice. “Unlock the phone.”
For a moment, I consider telling him to go fuck himself—that my personal device is none of his goddamn business, and that this is a violation of approximately seven labor laws and probably a few constitutional rights.
But nothing is stopping him from grabbing my hand and unlocking it himself, and if I refuse, he’s going to wonder why I’m so damn cagey.
Slowly, I press my thumb to the sensor and unlock it.
Immediately, Slava starts scrolling.
“You know,” I say. “Most people would call this controlling psychopath behavior.”
He responds by stepping even closer into my space, and just keeps on scrolling. Photos. Messages. Email. Browser history. He checks everything with terrifying thoroughness.
I should be terrified. No, fuck that, Iamterrified.
But at the same time, something dark and twisted is uncoiling in my stomach as I watch those elegant fingers move across my screen while his other arm keeps me trapped against this desk.
Jesus Christ, Bella. He might actually be about to murder you.
Finally, Slava sets the phone down on the desk. He leans over me until he’s the only thing I can see. The individual strands of dirty blond hair fall across his forehead. His jaw tightens as he stares in my eyes.
“Sorry you didn’t find the nudes you were looking for.”
He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he leans in even closer. “You’re hiding something, I know it.”
Adrenaline-fueled recklessness rushes through me, and the same self-destructive defiance that made me slap Nico D’Ambrosio in a room full of people immediately follows.
“Then why don’t you fucking search me if you don’t believe me?”
What the fuck am I doing?
The ice on Slava’s expression cracks just a hair, and now he’s so close that the tips of our noses are practically touching.
“Careful,malyshka.” His voice is cold as ice. “I might just take you up on that offer.”
“By all means, I’m right fucking here.”
His hand rests against my thigh, and my body is practically humming from the contact. He moves up slowly and deliberately, giving me every opportunity to stop him as he hikes my skirt higher and higher. He never once looks away, giving me every opportunity to stop him.
I don’t. Even if I want to, because my body has apparently staged a coup against my brain. All I can do is stare and pant and breathe the air he exhales as his palm slides up my thigh towards the pulsing heat between my legs.
I gasp when his hand finally slips underneath my skirt, and I scoot up the desk involuntarily to give him better access.
Then his hand stops, and I fight the need to inch back down so that his hand might go higher.
“Still nothing to hide?” he asks quietly.
“Nothing.”
