Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
And a business card.
I pocket the card without thinking, planning to toss it later. But as I pass the man’s table, something makes me slow.
His eyes lift to mine.
Cool. Assessing. Striking.
I hesitate for half a breath, then cross to his table, ignoring the way my heart thumps harder with every step.
“Hi,” I say quietly. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say thank you.”
He watches me for a beat, then nods. “You’re welcome.”
The accent is real. Russian. Clipped, elegant. He could probably kill someone with a dinner knife and not wrinkle his suit.
“You didn’t have to step in,” I add.
He raises a brow. “Didn’t I?”
I bite back a smile. “I had it under control.”
His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. “Of course you did.”
A pause stretches between us. He glances at the name tag on my apron.
“Lyra,” he says, slow and precise, like he’s tasting the word.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Damien,” he replies, offering his hand.
I take it. His grip is firm, but not aggressive. Just... solid. “Nice to meet you, Damien. Even if the introduction was a bit dramatic.”
“Memorable,” he corrects.
I laugh. A real one this time. The tight coil in my chest loosens just a little.
I glance at his companion, who is still ignoring us, and then back to Damien.
“Is your accent Russian?” I ask, regretting it instantly.
He doesn’t seem to mind. “It is. I was born in Moscow.”
“It suits you.”
That almost-smile again. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one.”
Another pause. This one comfortable, somehow.
“I should get back to work,” I say, even though I kind of don’t want to.
He nods once. “You probably should.”
I turn, walking away quickly before I can say something stupid. But I feel his eyes on me the whole way.
The rush picks up again, but I move through it on autopilot. I’m all smiles, grace under pressure, gliding between tables like I haven’t just had my wrist grabbed and nearly lost my job for throwing a drink in someone’s face, which I didn’t do, but very nearly did.
I finally glance back toward Damien’s table.
It’s empty. My chest drops in unexpected disappointment.
I approach the table, clearing glasses and checking for the bill. It’s been paid, of course. And the tip quite generous. Enough to make my stomach clench.
Then I see it again. The card.
This time, I actually look.
Damien Morozov
CEO, Integrated Solutions
I blink.
No way.
Integrated Solutions. That Integrated Solutions. Cybersecurity firm with contracts in half the Fortune 500. The company I applied to last week. The one I’ve dreamed of working at since college.
The one I’m interviewing at tomorrow for fuck’s sake.
My hands go cold.
Well, shit.
2
DAMIEN
Iclimb into the back seat of the car and slam the door harder than necessary, the thunk echoing through the enclosed space. The driver doesn’t flinch, but takes his cue to check the mirror and pull into traffic, the city lights beginning to blur across the wet pavement. Alek slides in beside me. The leather creaks under his weight, his usual unhurried grace on full display.
He settles in, then raises one eyebrow at me like he’s waiting for me to speak first.
I scowl. “What the hell is your problem?”
Alek shrugs, folding his arms across his chest.
“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you like that with a broad before.”
The way he says it pisses me off more than it should.
“Don’t call her that,” I snap before I can stop myself.
His smirk widens, his eyes sharpening. He heard it. Of course he did. He never misses anything. I grit my teeth and look out the window, watching the neon signs and headlights streak across the glass.
“Touchy tonight,” Alek says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
I grind my molars together and don’t answer. My hands rest on my knees, fingers tapping once before I force them to still. I’m angry, but not really at Alek. At that asshole in the restaurant. At myself for jumping in like that.
It was supposed to be a quiet dinner. We planned to go over our accounts in person, check the latest transfer schedules, and discuss Rurik and his family’s latest interference. Instead, I found myself halfway across the dining room before I even realized I was moving.
Alek watches me carefully. I can feel the weight of his stare.
“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” he asks.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say flatly, not bothering to hide my irritation.
He sighs, tilts his head back against the seat, and looks at the ceiling.
“I mean the way you reacted. You don’t get involved like that. Even with official business, you let your men handle it. I’ve never seen you get so defensive over some girl you don’t even know.”
I scoff, shifting in my seat. “He put his hands on her.”
“Right,” Alek says, his voice so mild it’s insulting. “So are you gonna start policing the whole city now? ’Cause there’s a lot of assholes out there who put their hands on women.”