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“Deal?”

Her jaw tightens as she swallows. I imagine the saliva traveling down her throat, and my fists clench at my side. I’m starving for her. The soft, porcelain skin on her neck looks so tender I could fucking drool.

She quietly searches my eyes, and to my surprise, I can’t quite tell what she’s thinking. Then, quietly: “Deal.”

Now, it’s my turn to swallow.

“Good girl.”

6

GRACE

Having sex with Dimitri Petrov wasn’t in my blackmailer’s instructions. But I’m not under any delusions about what “stay” means—or about what him saying “good girl” has done to my insides. Spoilers: they’re mush.

He didn’t ask me to stay to talk about the loss of his father or to compare notes on the security industry. He didn’t ask me to stay to talk, period.

I rub my thighs together as I watch him walk away. He’s hot, rich, and—against all reasonable odds—interested in me. And the part I keep tripping over… is that, for the first time in my life, I’m interested too.

I’ve never understood what it actually felt like to have the full, undivided attention of someone you’re genuinely drawn to. Now I do, and it’s throwing me completely off balance.

Remember why you’re really here, I tell myself. Remember Millie.

I turn to face the bar, giving Dimitri my back, hoping it will help cool me down.

Sleeping with him would be a horrible idea. Giving him my virginity? Even worse. You can’t have sex with the first man who makes your pulse spike, Grace. Especially not this one. I don’t even know what the stuff I’m supposed to give him will do, but I’m sure it won’t be good.

My heart volleys back and forth in my chest. Hooking up will only make things messier… but it also might be the only way to get enough private time with him to complete my mission and get away unscathed. Sure, I could try to inject him at the bar, but with all the security around, I won’t exactly be able to make a discreet getaway.

Maybe, to save my friend, I need to hook up with the handsome billionaire who clearly wants to fuck my brains out. It might be the only way to⁠—

I shake my head sharply.

What the hell am I thinking?

“It’s the lust talking,” I mutter under my breath.

“Ma’am?”

I blink, realizing the bartender is looking at me.

There’s no dignified way to explain that I was arguing with myself, so I don’t try. “A bottle of water, please.”

I glance back over my shoulder while he goes to get it, and I’m surprised to find Dimitri already staring at me. Like he never stopped. Fortunately, an older man steps into his line of sight, pulling his attention away.

Only then do I remember how to breathe.

Fuck. Is it always like this when you’re attracted to someone who clearly likes you back? One minute you’re a functioning adult, then the next—bam—it’s like a switch flips, and all you can think about is that person doing things to you.

Listen, I’ve had crushes before, but not for a while now, and definitely never on anyone who ever showed this much interest in return. Call me a romantic, but I guess I always fantasized about guys I couldn’t have. Famous musicians, actors, book characters, you know, fictional men. That’s just what romantics do. And obviously, I’m just a romantic.

My gaze drops to his ass, round and firm in those form-fitting pants, and oh my God. I want to sink my teeth into it. Like, actually bite him. What is wrong with me? Is this what men think when they look at women? Is this me being a romantic?

“Here you go.” I turn back as the bartender sets down two bottles of water and a glass. “I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer—room temperature or cold—so I brought both.”

I smile politely. “I’ll take the cold one, thank you.”

He takes the other away, and I’m already twisting open the cold bottle, lifting it straight to my mouth without even thinking about the glass. I need to cool down. Fast. Before Dimitri gets back.