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He shrugs. “I contain multitudes. So do you, apparently. I thought this girl didn’t mean anything to you.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Tell that to Dmitry’s poor limbs,” he says.
“He was slacking on the job. I was kicking him in the ass like any good boss would.”
“Of course,” German says. “Most good bosses threaten amputation.”
“Fine. I’m a shitty boss. But this shitty boss will amputateyourfavorite member unless you shut the fuck up.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, but—I just need a serious moment and then this is the last I’ll say,”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
His face and voice are somber enough to make me pay attention, though. “You’re threatening your own men and destroying alliances—including the one with Viktoria’s family, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. And you’re doing it all for this woman. This nobody.”
“I’m not doing anything for her.”
He stares at me, challenging my version of the truth.
“I despise Stefano and I’m not marrying Viktoria,” I tell him. “Those alliances were already doomed. I’m just hurrying the process along.”
“And Dmitry’s amputation? Are you hurrying that along, too?”
“He needs to learn to respect the rules of this house. No dalliances with the staff.”
German barks out a laugh and holds out his arm. “Then you better get your blade. Because I’m the guiltiest son of a bitch there ever was.”
“You’ve been sleeping with the maids?”
“Often and with passion,” he says shamelessly. “And if you want me to believe you didn’t know that, you’ll have to be a lot more convincing.”
He’s not wrong. Especially here at the vacation house, the guards are on low alert. There’s more down time. I’m too observant not to notice them making eyes at the young, unmarried women I hire.
“So it is about her,” German says in conclusion.
“Who gives a fuck if it is?” I snap. “You sleep with your maids; I’ll sleep with mine. We can all have a bit of fun.”
If Rayne could hear that, she’d have my head. Or she’d take a good swing at me, anyway. The thought almost makes me smile.
My phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket. Speaking of the devil.Viktoria.
“Is that ‘your woman’ calling?” German teases.
“You sound like a high school girl.”
He pretends to twist a coquettish tendril of hair around his finger and then uses that same finger to flip me off.
I shove my phone back in my pocket without bothering to answer. “No, it’s not ‘my woman.’”
And she never fucking will be.
18
RAYNE
Weeks pass. Day in and day out, I show up, I do my job, and I leave.
