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I was panicking, but who could blame me? There were now four gigantic men stalking around my two by four apartment, walking on my broken linoleum floor with their expensive Italian shoes. I closed my eyes, counting to three. Maybe when I opened them this would all be some cold-induced hallucination?
One. Two. Three. Nope.
He was still there, head canted to the side like a wild animal as he observed my mini melt down. Did he have to be so big? I was short, but I was not a small woman. Still, he made me feel positively petite. I’d had a chance to Google him when I got home, and what I found made my hands tremble as he stood there, taking up all the available space in the room.
Adrik Volkov wasn’t some relative of whoever owned Volkov Industries. He was not some rich guy with a common Russian surname. He was the motherfucking head of Volkov Industries. Rumored to be associated with illegal activities—the guy was a former fucking crime lord, for fuck’s sake!
“Leave us,” he commanded, affording one glance at the head giant who mumbled something into his suit cuff.
My entire body was on high alert, and I hated to admit it, but something happened to me when he barked out commands like that. Something I would deny if asked. I tried to slow my pulse, but nothing could stop my sex from clenching and moisture from pooling between my thighs. Seconds later, the men who’d been scurrying through my apartment hightailed it out of there. They were well-trained, I’d give them that. But still, scary as fuck. I could breathe a little easier without them, but only by a smidgeon.
Adrik watched with a hawk-like focus that made me feel like a bug in a display case. I was stunned. Had no idea what he was doing there or why he had bothered hunting me down. Did he have some sort of spyware that told him when people searched his name on the internet? No. That was dumb. Mostly. Honestly, I didn’t know what he was capable of, but if the rumors were true, it was a lot.
Gulp.
He stood and stared at me, as if waiting for something. But what was I supposed to say to him? I had questions, but none I was secure enough to voice aloud. And definitely not to him. The seconds tick by slow as hours and I had no idea how long we stood like that, just facing off. I inhaled a deep breath.
“Your face is very revealing, Zaika moya,” he whispered, but I remained quiet.
What could I say, really? I’d never been in a situation like that before. I tried to look unaffected, you know, cool and calm, but I imagined I looked like a crazy person. My getup was downright hilarious next to his fancy suit, but it wasn’t like I’d been expecting company.
“You are thinking something, Zaika. Tell me.”
So, were mind blowing, pussy breaking one night stands supposed to track you down the next day at your apartment and just sorta pop up unannounced for shits and giggles?
But I wasn’t saying all that to him. I mean, who would?
“Pussy breaking? I promise, Zaika moya, if I did this terrible thing, I will fix it,” he whispered, eyes darkening as they raked over my body again.
“Shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I? Um, tea?” I asked, my voice unnaturally high-pitched.
“I drink tea,” he said, following me into my postage stamp sized kitchen.
I pressed the button for the electric kettle and got down two mugs, furiously wiping the one with the impossible to remove coffee stain. He stopped my scrubbing with one big hand on my wrist. I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t, at least, not until my body stopped trembling. He smelled so good. Spicy and expensive. Heat seemed to radiate from him, and in my now frigid apartment, I could not help but move closer, seeking his warmth.
“The cup is clean, Zaika,” he whispered, and his breath tickled my cheek. “Don’t tell me you are nervous after everything we did last night?”
I closed my eyes again at the feel of his warm body almost touching mine, but not quite. The tease. His cologne was something I did not recognize as being anything other than him. It was exotic, unusual, like spice and man and something wild and dangerous.
“Maybe that is why I’m nervous. What are you doing here?” I asked, finally finding the courage to meet his steely gaze.
“I-I have a proposal for you,” he said, but it sounded like he was going to say something else first.
Despite being all but frozen a second ago, I was suddenly sweating like crazy. My heart pounded, and a sizzle of excitement spiked up my spin. A proposal? Was this guy nuts?
“Look, last night was fun and all, but I don’t go around marrying strangers no matter how sexy they are,” I began.
Adrik cocked his head to the side again, eyes flashing with some intense emotion. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, surprise, lust, or maybe repulsion. Then he smirked, and my panties just up and melted. Holy. Shit. No one man should embody that much sex appeal. It just wasn’t fair to the rest of the poor schleps out there trying to get by.
“I am glad you find me sexy, Zaika. But this is not my proposal.”
“What?” I asked dumbly.
“I was not asking you to marry me, Sofia. Nothing so rash as this,” he began.
“Oh, good,” I said.
I forced a laugh, turning around so I could grab tea bags from the ceramic cat jar I kept on the counter. I was really trying to hide my embarrassment. Of course, this man wasn’t proposing to me. Me? Of all people. He was Adrik fucking Volkov. He probably had some model thin Russian bride waiting for him in Siberia or some shit. What did he need with a chubby, loudmouthed American?
