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"I need security in my office now," I ordered. I kept my eyes on the man across from me waiting for that moment when I'd see him unnerved, but he didn't react at all.
At all.
"Yes, sir," the operator said and within a few seconds, the security guard who'd been outside my suite threw open the door to my office. He had his walkie-talkie in one hand and a gun in the other. But to my surprise, he didn't point it at Falkov. Instead, he looked at me.
"Sir?" he asked.
So much for the improved security.
"Call the police," I said pointedly as I looked at Falkov.
The security guard looked confused. "Mr. Archer, sir, Mr. Falkov has permission to be in the building."
The statement caught me off guard and when I looked at Falkov, the man had the nerve to point to a visitor ID badge on his lapel.
What the hell was going on? I tried to salvage any hold I had on the situation and said, "Fine. He doesn't have permission to be in my office. Escort him out." When the guard didn't move quickly enough, I added, "Now!"
"That'll be all, Jenkins," Falkov said. He moved toward the guard and glanced at his watch. He nodded and then the guard did too. It seemed like some type of silent communication happening between them that I couldn't make sense of.
The guard left and Falkov closed the door behind him. Unfortunately, the man was still on my side of the door. It was only when he stepped away that I noticed the new hardware on the door. Someone had actually installed a deadbolt on it.
"What's going on?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Twelve hours ago I had a gun pointed at your chest. And yet the first thing you see when you walk through that door isn't the man who threatened your life the night before, but this," Falkov said as he ran his fingers along the top of my computer monitor. Then, to my surprise, he flicked it backwards and the whole thing fell off the desk. Cords and papers went flying along with it. Since I knew the man was baiting me, I didn't react though inside it felt like a bomb had gone off.
I knew what this was. Round two of the game he’d started last night.
I reached for the phone again but this time before I could dial, Falkov said, "Don't bother. He won't answer."
His words caused my heart to seize in my chest at the thought that something had happened to Cliff that would prevent him from answering my call. He wasn't exactly the youngest of men, nor was he in the best health.
"Is he all right?" I asked even as I dropped my work phone and searched out my cell phone. It was one thing for Cliff to not answer calls from the office, but I had his private cell phone number that few people were privy to.
My fingers actually shook as I tried to find his contact information. Before I could react, a warm hand was pressing over mine.
Falkov's hand.
The contact caused an instant and almost violent reaction. But not the bad kind of violent. So many things happened at once that my breath actually caught in my throat. The sensation that fired from the tips of my fingers to the top of my arm was almost crippling. Not surprisingly, my dick reacted to the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing my skin. But it was the overwhelming need to not move, to stay there like that with his hand covering mine, that was equal parts joy and pain.
People didn't touch me. That was just an unspoken rule. Yeah, I shook hands with customers and clients and such, but no one ever touched me.
No one.
"He's fine, Jude," Falkov said. The timbre of his voice caused that rubber band of need inside me to wind even tighter. The knowledge that Cliff was okay should've been enough to release some of the tension, but the physical contact with the beautiful man across from me was making that impossible. I yanked my hand from his and took several steps back. I knew it was like showing my throat to him, but I had no choice.
"You can call me Mr. Archer," I bit out. My rudeness did what I needed it to. The momentary softness I'd seen in Falkov's eyes, had heard in his voice, disappeared just like that.
"Daddy Hayes won't answer your call because even he's done with your games," Falkov said. "Jude," he added. "And I know you couldn’t care less, but you can call me Nik."
"Fuck you, Nik," I said. "Yeah, that has a nice ring to it," I remarked snidely. I hadn't missed how he’d referred to Cliff. He wouldn't be the first to believe the rumors of my relationship with Clifton Hayes. I certainly wasn't going to correct him because I didn't give a shit what he thought.
