His sentence brings all my thoughts to a grinding halt. Another one of my men? Murdered?
“What?”
Even I can hear the dangerous edge to my growl, the one that makes Dmitri, for once, take a step away from me.
“The police are starting to look into it,” he tells me. “I’m sorry, Evgeny. With the string of killings lately, we couldn’t keep this out of their hands.”
Anger starts as a tingle and a tightening in the center of my chest, picking up speed and intensity as it pounds through me. It builds until I finally explode to my feet, knocking over the pile of papers and books on my desk with a sweep of my fist.
“Fuck!”
Dmitri takes another uncharacteristic step back, eyes on my face as though he’s trying to decide whether I’ll turn on him. He still isn’t sure as I stalk past him toward my office door.
“Just take care of this,” I snarl back at him. “This is the last thing we need while trying to win the development contract.”
I slam the door behind me, leave my home office, and pound down the hallway to the gym I built. My body wants only one thing right now, but the punching bag will have to do.
For an hour, I work out my anger and frustration on the treadmill, the weight machines, and finally on the punching bag.
Then the security pad on the gym door lights up with a video.
Fucking Eva.
She’s wandering down the hallway, looking at the art I’ve collected over the years like she belongs here. Like this is her home instead of mine.
Dmitri talked me into letting Eva roam the halls unaccompanied, reasoning that she wouldn’t be able to escape. I’d disagreed at first, but he’d pointed out that we would get more work out of her if she had more freedom, a point I couldn’t argue against. Her freedom, though, would come with strict rules.
And now she’s wandering in my personal space, as though having her in the same damn house isn’t challenging enough. As though she’s not here at the worst possible time when I can barely control my rage, a rage she is partly responsible for.
She nearly screams when I jerk the door open.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She backs up two steps, her eyes wide, fear sparking in the air between us as the storm of anger rolls off me.
I yank her into the room and slam the door behind me, unwilling to let her go now that she’s the focus of my fury.
Eva stumbles as I let her go, catching herself on a weight bench, watching me warily. I can see her hands shaking, though she tries to hide it, and it makes my blood boil.
“Didn’t Dmitri tell you to stay the fuck away from the north wing? Why can’t you fucking listen?”
“I…” she starts, stumbles, then says, “I think it’s a dumb rule.”
“A dumb rule?” I echo. “You are aguestinmyhouse, and you?—”
“I’m not a fucking guest, asshole!” Eva shouts back, hands still shaking even though they’re clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re keeping me here against my will. You took me from my house, away from my family, and you’re forcing me to work for you under threat of my family’s well-being. That isnota guest!”
She’s up against the wall in a heartbeat, my hands and greater bulk pinning her shoulders. I see real fear in her eyes, and I relish how it feeds the rush in my blood like kindling to a fire.
“Do I have to remind you again that you’re the one who hacked into the computers of a fucking Bratva?MyBratva? You will do whatever the fuck I say, and you’ll be grateful I’m not resorting to other solutions.”
My eyes are locked on Eva’s. I hold her gaze, and I expect her to look away, cower, or try to get away as quickly as possible. But the fear subsides, and her own fury flares as she fights back, her nails digging into the skin of my arms and leaving raw scratches.
I knew she would be a fighter, and the thought makes my blood soar, a heady pulse centered at my crotch.
The moment Eva feels it pressed against her stomach, her eyes widen before narrowing. She doesn’t blush, doesn’t scream, doesn’t push me off. As I lean over her, our faces so close, I can see the way her pupils have dilated, feel the way her chest is rising and falling with shallow breaths.
“Get the fuck off me,” she says, her voice low and icy. But her palms are pressed flat on my chest, and she’s not pushing me away.
