The roses' perfume follows me down the corridor, clinging to my clothes like a ghost. By the time I reach my room, my hands are shaking.
The knock comes past nine, when I've finally managed to force my brain back into work mode.
"Come in."
Megan steps inside, she works for us, her blonde ponytail swinging as she holds up a small velvet box. "Someone sent this for you, Miss Sartori."
I push back from my desk. "Who?"
"He said his name was Igor." She places the box on my nightstand like it might bite her. "From Dmitri Baganov."
Of course it is.
"Thank you, Megan."
She nods and slips out, closing the door with a soft click.
The box sits there, mocking me with its elegance. Small enough to fit in my palm. I already know it's jewelry. Some gaudy diamond necklace or earrings meant to mark me as his property before he's even earned the right.
I snatch it up, ready to be pissed.
A folded note rests on top. His handwriting is bold, slanted, confident.
Wear this tomorrow at dinner. —D
"Presumptuous asshole," I mutter, flipping open the lid.
My mouth falls open.
It's not jewelry.
It's a plug. A small, rose gold plug with a delicate crystal base that catches the light. The kind Amanda has shown me pictures of, giggling about how her latest boyfriend bought her one. The kind that goesinside.
Heat floods my body so fast I nearly drop the box.
He didn't.
I stare at it, my brain short-circuiting between fury and something else. A sensation that pulses low in my belly and makes my thighs press together involuntarily.
He absolutely fucking did.
My fingers tremble as I set the box down like it's contaminated. Which it is. With his audacity. His complete and utternerve.
I grab my phone, typing so fast I nearly crack the screen.
You're an asshole.
Three dots appear immediately. Because of course he's awake. Of course he's waiting.
You'll wear it.
My jaw clenches.Like hell I will.
That's an order, solnyshko.
The words hit me like a physical blow.An order.
I should be furious. Iamfurious. My hands shake with it, my pulse pounds in my temples, and there's this tight, hot feeling in my chest that I want to call rage.
