Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“And you know what, Lev?” she yells. “That would be my choice. I would get to decide whether I live or die.”
“I don’t accept that!” I yell back, finally losing my patience. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger just because you don’t want to be with me.”
She steps into me like she’ll swing. She doesn’t. Her fingers reach my tie, pause a millimeter short, like she’s reminding herself who I am.
“Move,” she says. “I’m going back to work.”
“No,” I say, staying solidly in place.
“I’m not your property,” she spits.
“You’re not,” I agree, more quietly. “But you are mine to protect.”
Her breathing turns shallow, full of rage and something deeper. I stare at her mouth for a fraction of a second too long. I step in, take her face in my hands, and she meets me halfway.
The kiss isn’t gentle. She fists my shirt and hauls me closer. I pin her to the wall with my body and grip her hips tightly. Even now, she’s fighting me for dominance. Her tongue battles mine, trying to claim me when she’s mine to claim.
She groans, pushing me away but fisting the fabric of my blazer so I can’t go anywhere. She’s a walking contradiction.
“You think you can kiss me into compliance,” she murmurs. “That’s not how I work.”
My hands slide down to the hem of her dress and I tease her, testing her resolve.
“I can make your knees go weak,” I remind her. “I can make you scream my name until your voice goes hoarse.”
I take my hands from her skirt and pin her to the wall.
“I can make you beg me to make you come,” I whisper against her jaw. “So maybe I can’t kiss you into compliance, but, baby, I’ve got a lot more weapons in my arsenal.”
Just to prove it, I grind my hardening cock against her stomach and feel the quick exhale of breath as she reacts to my words.
But just as quickly, she pushes me away and smooths down her dress.
“I have to get back to work, Mr. Borikov,” she says coldly, a perfect mask of professionalism on her face despite her smudged lipstick.
I carefully swipe at my own mouth to get rid of the evidence.
“Whatever you say, Ms. Gonzales,” I shoot back. “I’ll see you at six in front of the building. Don’t keep me waiting.”
She glares at me until I move out of her way and unlock my door for her.
13
MARI
As the weekend passes, I have to admit, reluctantly, that the compound feels a lot less oppressive than the penthouse. I don’t feel so cooped up, and the gardens are beautiful. I take long walks through them several times a day, breathing in the fresh air I never get in the city. I still hate the fences and the men who stand around pretending to be harmless, but the bed is perfect, and the quiet is addictive. If I ignore the earpieces and the guns, it’s almost nice.
Susie, on the other hand, is having the time of her life. Lev moved her to a West Side apartment with a doorman and a view we could only dream about before. She sent me a video tour earlier this week. The kitchen has brand-new appliances. The furniture is luxurious and comfortable. She has the largest TV I’ve ever seen in my life, and Lev even made sure her fridge is stocked.
“If this is your dangerous era,” she said, “please endanger us into a matching set of wine glasses.”
I told her to shut up. With a small smile and giggle.
Later, she sent me a picture of her feet propped on the balcony railing and said, “No, seriously, get yourself into slightly more trouble. I’m thriving.”
Back at the office Monday morning, I try to pretend my life is normal. I focus on my budget reconciliations and make sure all of our vendors got paid last week. It’s utterly boring and mundane, which is exactly what I love about this job. I need less danger in my life, no matter what Susie says.
It’s 11:15 when my phone buzzes and my stomach drops. There’s a notification from my period-tracking app, reminding me that I haven’t logged my period this month. Panicked, I open it and look at the calendar view. I’m a week late.
Before panic grips me, I force a little logic. Stress can delay things. I’m on the pill. There’s absolutely no reason for me to think I’m pregnant.
I make it to noon, tell my hallmates I’m stepping out for lunch, and end up in the back seat of a black SUV with Pavel. He’s tall, quiet, and absolutely hates me. Not without reason. Last week, I made him walk exactly six paces in front of me and refused to walk for a solid five minutes when I felt like he was too close. I know it isn’t fair to punish him for doing his job, but all of Lev’s men are an extension of him. I have to let out my frustration somehow.