No. I didn’t plan on this at all.
I planned on a solution. A transaction. A name on a contract.
Instead, I hired a woman whose voice crawls under my skin and whose presence makes my body forget who’s in charge.
And she doesn’t even know what she’s done to me.
That’s the most dangerous part.
Ilya leans back in the chair, watching me too closely. “So, are you going to bed her?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy as a thundercloud.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Not honestly. I stare at the city beyond the glass, jaw tight, hands curled on the armrests.
I have considered it. Of course, I have. The thought crept in the second her voice spilled through my speakers, and it hasn’t left since I saw her—awkward, real, nothing like the fantasy, and so much more dangerous for it.
Ilya waits, that damn knowing grin lurking in the corner of his mouth. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response.
Instead, I say, “It’s complicated.”
He laughs quietly. “That’s not a no.”
I look away, unable to hide the truth from myself, if not from him.
No, it’s not a no.
Ilya smirks, tapping the side of his nose. “I thought you were into blondes, my friend. Tall, icy. The ones who look like they want to bite you.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck you, Ilya.”
He grins wider. “Just making sure your type hasn’t changed overnight. Should I put in a requisition with HR for a six-foot runway model?”
“Put in a requisition for your own sanity,” I snap, but there’s no real heat in it. “And close the door on your way out.”
He stands, stretching. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone the boss has gone soft for the new girl.”
I glare at him, but he’s already heading for the door. Ilya pauses at the door, glancing over his shoulder. “So, does she know why she’s here? The real reason?”
I clear my throat, not quite meeting his eyes. “Not yet.”
He grins, all teeth and trouble. “Would be complicated for her to find you a bride if you want to fuck her, you know?”
I shoot him a look that should kill. He just laughs, slipping out the door
The echo of it lingers even after he’s gone.
I lean back in my chair, jaw set, staring at the empty hallway.
Blonde, brunette, redhead—it was never about the hair.
But this one is different. And I’m in trouble.
6
ZATANNA
By lunch,I’m convinced I’ve wandered into a bureaucratic black hole.
