“What the lady wants, the lady gets.” I stood and held out my hand to Maya. “Shall we?”
“Oh, if we must.” Her eyes danced with humor as she clenched my hand.
Memories assaulted me in that moment. Memories of a time not so long ago when I’d been callous in my dealings with her and her father—when I’d destroyed something so beautiful—because of money, because he’d had something hanging over my head—but the worst part was there was a time when I’d enjoyed it, because I was so damn good at what I did—and I had taken too much pride in it.
“Break her,” he’d said.
“Watch me,” I’d all but answered back.
“Hey.” Maya nudged me. “We going to walk through the nice glass door or are we going back to the theory that you’re not of this world… Wow! I didn’t guess ghost, should I have?”
“Hilarious,” I murmured then opened the door and placed my hand on her back ushering her into the outside patio area.
A roaring fire pit flickered to the left while a miniature version of the same glowed in the center of the table we’d be eating at. Heaters surrounded us and lush fur blankets lay across each lounge chair just in case Maya got cold. In all honesty, I’d meant to cut the evening short. I’d only wanted to extend to her some kindness so she’d trust me, stop asking questions, and put me out of my misery. The more time I spent with her.
The more I wanted her.
And that was more dangerous than her working for me.
It was more dangerous than her knowing my secrets.
It was more dangerous than her knowing her past.
“Alright…” She did a quick turn then poked me in the chest. “I have another guess.”
My eyebrows arched, “This should be good.”
She took a step toward me, then another. I wanted so desperately to back away that for a brief moment I contemplated running.
From a harmless woman.
God help me.
“You.” She took another step toward me. “Are.”
One more step and she’d nearly be chest to chest.
“A.”
Her next step wasn’t as stable, causing her to tumble into my arms. I braced her shoulders. “A what?”
Maya’s eyes locked in on mine. “I—I forgot what I was going to say.” Her breathing picked up speed as her eyes darted toward my lips and lingered there.
In my mind I pushed her away.
In reality… I pulled her closer.
“Pity,” I whispered, my lips brushing hers, begging her to kiss me back and push me away all at once.
“It is.” She slid her tongue across her lips where mine had just touched, then leaned closer to me.
I had a choice.
We both did.
A stronger man would pull away.
A stronger man would remember the damn contract and all the reasons why it was imperative that it not be voided out.
In that moment I realized two things… I’d always wanted her, even back then.
And I wasn’t as strong as I’d always believed.
I gave in to my weakness.
And kissed her.
Maya’s arms wrapped around my neck as I slanted my mouth against hers, trying another angle, not because I had to, but because it wasn’t enough. Every angle, every collision of our mouths, the fusion of our heat—wasn’t enough.
Alarm bells rang in my head like gunshots floating through the night sky.
She was off limits.
She was dangerous.
Because she could finally be the death of not only me, but my family’s legacy, my life’s work, and worse yet, all of my secrets.
“Nikolai.” Her tongue swept against mine.
I suppressed a groan and pulled back, setting her on her feet. Maya’s eyes were heavy with lust.
My fingers itched to reach for her again.
Instead, I clasped my hands behind my back and took two steps backward. “We should eat… we have an early morning.”
Rejection washed across her features before she gave me a simple nod and took her seat.
The rest of the evening went to hell.
Every time she tried a bite of something new I asked her if she liked it. Her response was a meager shrug.
Russians.
When I offered more wine…
Another shrug.
When I damn near ripped the table cloth in half and threw the glassware onto the ground in frustration, she simply yawned and said it was getting late.
Repeating my same words.
The evening ended with her closing the door to her apartment in my face, and me staring at it for a good five minutes before I went down to my own apartment and stared at the ceiling.
Which would be her floor.
I heard her walking.
And if I listened hard enough…
I could also hear her crying.
It was easy to decipher amidst the noise of her TV—because many years ago it had been ingrained in my consciousness, never to leave.
I’d caused her tears before and years ago I swore I’d never cause those tears again. And yet, here I was…
We were two days into the contract. And I’d already jumped off the cliff into oblivion. Panic choked me, because I knew if for some reason that kiss triggered anything, we’d both be dead.
God help me if I continue in that way—because it wouldn’t just be guilt eating away at me—but absolute horror—that her life would be given up just like that.
Her father could never know I’d touched her.
I took one last look at the ceiling and slammed all my emotions back into a box, locked it, and threw away the key.
Off limits.
Not mine.
If I truly cared for her—I’d let her believe I was a heartless bastard with no soul. I had no choice.
A man is judged by his deeds, not his words. –Russian Proverb
THE DINNER WAS A DISASTER… actually no that’s not right. The dinner was amazing, the food incredible, the company, however, was a disaster and I only had my hormones to blame.
Stupid, stupid, stupid hormones.
My brain says watch out he could be the next Ted Bundy.
And that very same warning bell stops chiming the minute the man licks his lips and leans in.
I met him halfway.
So technically, half the fault was mine. But only half.
My last few nights had been filled with dreams, horrible dreams about ice cream, only when the man offered it to me, offered me a taste, it turned to blood, right before it touched my lips.
“Maya!” Nikolai snapped. “Do I pay you to day dream?”
Crap. How long had he been standing there? I hadn’t slept much all week. It had officially been two days since our failed dinner.
Since his mouth touched mine.
Branded mine is more like it.
And try as I might—I couldn’t escape the taste of Nikolai. Nor, and I’m ashamed to admit this—did I actually want to.
“Work,” he said slowly, his head nodding toward the laptop on my desk. “I need you to continue researching the newest STD strains and have a report on my desk by five this evening. Make note of anything considered resistant to treatment.”
“Right.” I tugged at my blouse, while he checked his watch and cursed.
That wasn’t typical behavior for Nikolai. He was always poised, always polite, especially at work. So something had to be wrong, but I wasn’t sure if by asking a question I was actually going to get into trouble or if he would break down and tell me what I could do to help.
A few days ago it felt like we’d made progress, and now it was back to square one.
He checked his watch again then started tapping his foot against the marble floor.
I tried to concentrate on my computer screen, but the tapping continued.
Gritting my teeth I shot him a glare. “Something wrong?”
“Everything’s wrong.”
“Care to bitch about it?” I said in a sweet voice.
He scowled then checked his watch again. “She’s late.”
“Who?”
“Jac.”
I frowned. “Did you two have a meeting?”
“Chicago.” He sighed. “My private plane leaves in an hour.”