He’d called it. Because the sensation of his mouth commanding mine and coaxing me to open to him was unbelievably good. Kissing my family’s rival, my supposed boss, was so wrong, too.
And it was all that I needed to remind myself of before I pulled back. Out of breath and missing the warmth he exuded, I frowned at him.
“I…” I shook my head, damning how I craved his touch and feeling him pin me to the door as he caged me in against the unyielding surface. “I won’t be seduced, Mr. Orlov.”
He gritted his teeth, no doubt peeved that I was putting distance and a buffer between us with the use of his formal name.
“I won’t be seduced.” I stated it again so it could stick in my head, too.
Getting flirty and making out with Andre Orlov wasn’t my job. It wasn’t part of any expectations I could fulfil, and the sooner I could ease away from him, the saner I could feel.
He didn’t stop me when I gently pushed him back. In the same movement, I ducked to evade him, moving out from the door by slipping under his toned arm.
As he stepped back, I hurried to spin around and escape through the door.
Dammit. What was I thinking?I cringed and closed my eyes briefly as I fled this area of the house.
I hadn’t been thinking at all, swept away by desire when I never let it rule me.
Over the next week, I did my best to avoid falling into that same trap.
Andre complicated that goal.
He was home—all the time now—and always popping in where I was cleaning.
When I mopped the utility room, he snuck in close and caught me from slipping. Somehow, in his arms, I’d caved to kissing him again before logic returned.
Another day, when I was trying to reach up high to put a container back up on a shelf, he appeared and hoisted me up so I could make up for my lack of height. As he lowered me back to my feet, our lips lined up and he’d kissed me until I caught myself grinding my hips against his. The sound of Renee approaching spared me from surrendering any further.
Keeping my heart armored against him was no easy feat. Not when my pulse would betray me and go wild every time he was near. Especially not when I had a lapse and kissed him back to experience that soaring magic of forbidden affection.
It didn’t matter when he showed up, clearly tracking me in his building. I was simply unable to turn him away. All these little blips of his presence slowly persuaded me to give in—just this once. To accept his interest—one last time. To kiss him back and see how greedy his mouth and hands could get—only for a minute.
He never pushed too hard. He always backed off once he rendered me breathless, my lips swollen from his stolen kisses. Accumulating hits of this desire only had me wanting him more. wishing for so much more.
Impossible.
As I sat on my bed in the maid’s quarters and got my phone out—the burner that had my uncle and cousin’s numbers under encrypted contacts—I knew that wanting anything with Andre was stupidity.
My uncle’s texts proved as much.
You'd better get me something now, bitch.
His message was nothing but a cruel reminder of what he demanded of me.
You need to send me some news tomorrow.
Or else.
Tears burned at the edge of my lids. The small font of his text messages blurred.
Do I need to remind you of what happens if you refuse?
If you fail?
He wasn’t bluffing. He’d attached a video of Esmeralda sleeping, or trying to. Her leukemia weakened her so much. Other chronic issues compiled into a hefty threat against her well-being. Seeing her coughing and struggling to breathe broke my heart.
She won’t last long without her treatments.
