"Are you okay?" He finally lifts his head to look at me. "Did I hurt you?"
"No," I whisper, shoving the hair out of my face.
"You were perfect." He kisses me softly again and lingers, letting his lips dance over mine. What the hell am I doing? This is so insane. I don't even know why I just did that. "You really are beautiful," he whispers before he straightens and starts tucking his dick back into his pants.
His praise makes me feel warm all over, and I realize I could get addicted to hearing him talk to me like this. But I also remember that this doesn't change anything between us. He's still supposed to marry one of my stepsisters.
This was nothing more than a moment born from adrenaline and fear. It means nothing, and I know I mean nothing to him. And I can't let this get into my head and mess with me. I look down in shame over exactly how much I enjoyed that and swallow away the well of questions bubbling up.
"We should probably get cleaned up." I try to slide off the table, but my legs are shaking too much to support my weight.
"Easy." He catches me and holds me steady. "Take your time."
I lean against him for support while feeling his release continue to leak down my thighs. The reality of what we just did is starting to sink in and I'm not sure what to say or do next.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks, and I nod at him because what the fuck am I supposed to say after that? I consented, but now I’m not sure why. Then Roman cups my face and makes me look at him. "You were incredible, okay?" His eyes search me, and it's too intense. I have to look away again.
"Roman," I start, but he turns away. He grabs a paper towel from the drink station in the corner of the room and comes back, stopping in front of me. When he reaches for the mess between my legs, I stop him and take the paper towels to wipe myself clean while he tucks in his shirt and straightens up.
Then he helps me straighten my dress and find my panties, but I'm so flustered, I just shove them in my dress pocket. We both try to make ourselves presentable, but there's no hiding what we've been doing. My hair's a mess and my lips are swollen from kissing, and I'm sure I have marks on my neck from his mouth.
"You look thoroughly ravished." He smirks as he takes in my appearance. "Anyone who sees you will know exactly what we've been doing."
"Then maybe we should avoid people for a while." I try to finger-comb my hair into some semblance of order as my cheeks burn.
"Maybe we should." He pulls me against him for one more kiss. "But I'm not sorry about that, either."
And now I'm thoroughly confused. He picks up the broken tablet and pulls out his phone, but I feel like a husk of my normal self as I follow him through the building to the elevator.
That all happened so fast, I'm not sure what to think about it. Roman Kuzin is a whirlwind of conflicting messages. He's angry I stole from him, but he promotes me to be his assistant. Then he ravishes me on his conference table, and what's next?
And whatever it is, will I be able to handle it?
Because my head is spinning. And I think I like it.
12
ROMAN
"You have a beautiful home." Sofi sits across from me in my dining room, turning her fork between her fingers. Hosting her is annoyance more than anything else, but it may allow me to gain more insight into her mother. I consider it a business deal that is sadly unavoidable. "Mama said it was, but I didn't believe her." Unfortunately, Sofi is treating this like it's a social call and I'm thrilled to be in her presence.
"I'm glad you approve," I say tartly, but she doesn't pick up on the tone. It appears that Ms. Koval is just like her mother in that aspect, so self-absorbed, she has no sense of how others around her feel.
"It's much nicer than Anton's house…" Sofi picks up a piece of smoked salmon and folds it into her bread as Sara sets a plate of pickled vegetables between us and Sorin fills Sofi's glass with red wine. Sofi takes a drink as soon as her glass is full, and a crescent of lipstick stays on the rim when she puts the glass back down.
"This wine's good," she says. "What is it?" I'm amazed at her ability to find useless things to discuss. If Vera thinks this behavior would ever win a man of my stature, she is sorely mistaken. Her daughter needs a lesson in etiquette and several more years of maturity to ever capture a man's eyes.
"Georgian. Saperavi," I tell her and watch her wince.
"Mama drinks French. She says Georgian is for old men." She takes another drink and shrugs. "I think it's better than anything she has at home." Mama this, Mama that—she speaks like a girl still, not the woman of twenty-five that she is. She's still sucking the tit and it's somewhat comical.
"Sabine wanted to come tonight," she says as she chews. "She was angry when Mama told her it was only me." Sofi grins widely, and I catch movement to my right where Mila sits with her tablet in hand ready to take notes. Every so often, she scowls at me from her perch on a wingback chair across the room. She didn't want to be present, and I forced her. There was never any need for her to take notes as I instructed, but I am curious about the dynamic here between stepsisters.
Besides, she'd have been eavesdropping anyway. And after having my way with her the other day, I want her around me more. I enjoy her presence and watching her squirm.
"There'll be other dinners."
"That's what I said." She tears off another piece of bread and drags it through the oil on her plate. "She didn't want to hear it. You know how sisters are." Her hand waves around in the air a few times before she shoves the oversized piece of bread into her mouth and chews, making her cheek puff out. That makes Mila roll her eyes.
