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“I didn’t invite you in,” she grits out. “You knew I’d be working for you, didn’t you? That’s why you paid attention to me.”
“I don’t need a reason to do as I please.”
The question says a lot more about her than me. It’s obvious that Rayne has a chip on her shoulder where money is concerned. But is she self-conscious, too? Doesn’t she own a mirror? It’s even more obvious today, now that she’s out of her catering uniform, that Rayne is perfectly proportioned. Every inch of her practically begs to be gripped.
“I know your type. You have no shortage of women throwing themselves at you. You had a gorgeous date with you. Shrill and annoying, but still, gorgeous. Why else would you waste time on your waitress?”
I lean against the wall and cross my arms over my chest. “It’s hard not to pay attention when my waitress dumps wine on my date and individually insults everyone at my table,” I say.
Rayne frowns. “I didn’t insult everyone.”
“You weren’t done?” I ask. “Pardon me. Perhaps I’ll invite them over for dinner and we can have a do-over. Let you have a round two. For closure’s sake.”
“Stop it,” she snaps. “Just tell me what you want.”
“Oh, now,that’sa dangerous game,printsessa. You can’t handle the things I want.”
I have a feeling her entire body is blushing. I want to strip her down and find out. Which is a problem.
Viktoria was my date last night for a reason. Because she is a sure thing. She is the efficient solution to my problem. And Rayne is pointing out the problems in that solution.
Namely, I’m fucking bored.
“You know what? I don’t care what you want,” Rayne says. “I really don’t. I want to keep this job and that is what is important. Short of firing me and having me escorted from the premises, you can’t get rid of me. You’re paying almost double what any other similar position is paying. I won’t give that up because of a little sexual harassment.”
I frown. “Harassment sounds so dirty. I prefer to call it foreplay.”
“It’s definitely not that. But you know what? Call it whatever you want. I’m not going anywhere.”
We’re staring at each other, the air between us turning electric. Sonya is upstairs right now. I could push Rayne back against the island and force her to admit the truth right here, right now. No one would get hurt. Hell, it might even do me some good. I’ve been pent-up, considering last night didn’t exactly go to plan.
I’m rolling the idea of rolling Rayne around in my head when I hear the familiar click of high heels down the hallway.
“Kirill?” a grating voice calls out. “Hello?”
I sigh. “Kitchen.”
The pace of her steps picks up and then Viktoria is in the kitchen with us. She drags her hand down my arm and slides in front of me, blocking my view of Rayne without a second thought.
“You weren’t answering your phone, so I came over.”
“Most people would take that as a hint,” I drawl.
She laughs, but it’s a thin, brittle sound. “You weren’t acting like yourself last night. I thought this morning might call for brunch to soak up all that alcohol.”
“I’m not hungover.”
She ignores this and carries on. “So I was going to come tell your maid or chef or whoever to cook you some pancakes.”
Rayne is currently creeping towards the back exit of the kitchen, doing her best to slip away unnoticed, but she can’t help herself. She snorts.
Viktoria is like a bloodhound on the scent. She goes rigid and spins around. She knows there’s a housekeeper in the room with us; it’s why she didn’t pay her any attention when she first came in.
But she doesn’t know it’s Rayne.
Until…
“You,” Viktoria hisses. She’s like a snake coming out of the grass, rising to strike. “What in the hell areyoudoing here?”
