Dirty, I hope.
“In my office,” she hisses. “Now.”
I follow her down the corridor until we’re outside. She sneaks me into her office, looking around before she locks the door behind us and draws the blinds.
“I can be quiet if you can.” I grin, leaning against her desk.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands, her voice low but sharp as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Is this a joke to you? Because I’m not laughing.” There’s steel in her voice.
“It’s called business,lapochka. You’re in the trade. You know how it goes.”
Of course, I’m not going to tell her the real reason I’m here—to figure out how the fuck her old man is involved in Aslanov’s business and to protect her and our baby from whatever’s coming. She’ll probably make herself even more of aliability if she knows that her father is connected to a rival Bratva organization.
And we can’t be having that.
Her arms hitch higher up her chest. “You know I work here.”
“Which is why I trust you with my investments.” It’s not entirely a lie. She is brilliant at what she does.
This brings a tight smile to her face. “Investments? You mean blood money?”
“All legitimate, I assure you.”
She studies my face, clearly weighing whether to believe me. Her skepticism is written in every line of her expression.
I step away from the desk towards her. “How’s the baby?”
She keeps her back to me, her spine rigid with tension. “Good.”
I take another step in, close enough to feel her back against my chest. I could fuck her like this. Press her up against the desk—she seems to take a liking to flat, horizontal surfaces.
We could have a quickie.
I could roll up her dress to her hips, move her panties aside and stick it in. My cock rises at the thought. I get closer and gently press myself against her back.
She tenses.
I know that she can feel it too. But she steps aside. Quick, deliberate—she’s not running, she’s repositioning.
I bring my arm out, slamming the palm against the cabinet, caging her. I lean in, my mouth getting closer to her ear. Then, remembering my conversation with Timur in Horizon about how to get her to trust me, I pull away.
She spins around, backing into the cabinet.
“Look,” I say, exhaling. “I want to be a part of this. I’ll behave.” One glance at her swollen breasts has me hot and heavy again. “Unless you don’t want me to…”
Her eyes linger on mine.
Then she places both hands on my chest and pushes me back—not frantic, but firm and decisive. Fire flashes across her eyes, turning them a wicked shade of green. They’re still beautiful, nonetheless.
“You have no right to bother me, Nikolai. Showing up at my place, my office. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever I want.”
I grin. Which only makes her jaw clench tighter.
“Ugh!” She shoves my chest. It’s nothing. I stand the same as before. She could never hurt me, even if she tried. "Don’t." She presses against my chest again, this time holding me at arm’s length. "I’m serious, Nikolai."
"Serious about what?" It’s a rhetorical question. I know what she means. She’s sick of this pull we have. But she cannot stop it.
She stops pushing, staring into my eyes, breathless. The anger fades into something else. Something hot and heavy that causes her pupils to dilate. So, I pull her against my chest and kiss her hard. Fervent.
