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Leonid takes Viktoria’s arm and the two of them walk calmly out of the room.
“Did he just offer his daughter as a sex sacrifice?” Rayne mumbles the moment the door is closed.
I think she’s talking mostly to herself, which is good. I don’t have the ability to make casual chit-chat right now. All I’m capable of is marching around this damned table between us. It’s only six feet across, but it might as well be an ocean.
She backs away as I approach. “Mr. Zaitsev, what are you—”
“Don’t call me that,” I bark. “Don’t you dare fucking call me that.”
“It’s your name.”
But I can see in her eyes she doesn’t believe it. The formality feels as odd on her tongue as it does in my ear.
“Oh, right. You’re my maid. I guess you conveniently forgot that little face mid-orgasm. You should have been screaming ‘Mr. Zaitsev’ to the sky. Next time, be sure to remember. I’d hate for you to be unprofessional while you come on my face.”
Her cheeks are red, but she’s stiff from head to toe. “There won’t be a next time.”
I shake my head in disbelief. The hard-headed woman actually believes that.
A figure passes by the doorway. A nosy maid coming to see what broke up my meeting so early, no doubt.
“Meet me in my office. Now.”
Her cheeks flush redder as she shakes her head. “No.” I reach for her arm, but she pulls away from me. “Don’t touch me.”
“Then be a good little maid and follow orders,” I snarl. “I won’t have to touch you if you obey. Meet me in my office. Now.”
Rayne considers me for a moment. She stares at me, trying to suss out my intentions. Good fucking luck. If I’ve learned anything from this life, it is how to wear a poker face.
Finally, she turns around and stomps out of the back exit. I follow her, ready to literally drag her if she deviates from the course. But she doesn’t.
She stops outside of my office door, waiting for me to unlock it. I do so quietly, and then step back and usher her inside.
Rayne slides past me. Her vanilla shampoo trails behind her like a wedding veil only I can see. I feel her body heat warming the air, and I want it pressed against me.
Fuck, what a mess this has all become. There is no such thing as professionalism when everything about this woman draws me closer. When it comes to Rayne, I’m the duck. Calm on the surface, but filled with raw yearning underneath.
I close the door and turn to face her.
She’s standing next to my desk, her hands folded in front of her. She’s doing her very best to make herself small, as if that will somehow help. As if it doesn’t make everything worse.
Rayne can’t be small. She can’t blend in. She can’t be inconsequential.
Watching her hunch herself and try to disappear is like trying to hide a candle in a pitch black room. The juxtaposition only makes her shine brighter.
“What the fuck were you thinking, accepting Leonid’s offer?” I ask.
“I was thinking that what I do with my personal time is none of your business. The party is outside of my normal work hours. It won’t impact my duties here at all.”
“I’ll be there,” I remind her. “You know that.”
“Was I wrong in thinking you could behave yourself?” She glares at me, and I want to kiss the sneer off of her face.
I keep my own face calm. “I can behave myself just fine. It’s whether everyone else can behave themselves that is the real problem.”
“That isyourproblem,” she snaps. “You’re always worrying about everyone else. Me, Leonid, Viktoria, even Sasha. You don’t seem to understand that you don’t rule the world, Kirill.”
“Wrong. And that’s Mr. Zaitsev to you.”
