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“Okay,” I murmur to myself. “Time to go see the boss.”
Chapter 9
Mikhail
Isaw the whole thing from my office. To say I’m displeased by Charlie’s behavior is an understatement. It’s Luka’s job to train them directly, but I’ve been keeping a watchful, albeit distant, eye on all the interns for their mid-year and year-end performance reports.
I don’t give a shit if he graduated from CalTech with honors, or that his father happens to be a client of CyberFort. Despite being the self-proclaimed ringleader, Charlie is arguably the worst performer of the bunch. He wastes his time, his submission deadlines are always late, and the cherry on top is that his behavior toward Aurora is downright deplorable.
A part of me wanted to step in. Fire him on the spot. Such comments are unbecoming of a CyberFort employee. Not to mention it’s a massive HR red flag. When he brought up the suggestion of Aurora wearing and looking hot in a bikini, I damn near flew out of my chair to knock some sense into him. I didn’t, of course, because I’m nowhere near that brash. And I don’t want to open my company up to a potential lawsuit because—if I’m being perfectly honest—I would have beat his ass into the ground.
I remain in my office, seated in my leather executive chair, strumming my fingers on the edge of my desk. I sent Merrybell to retrieve Aurora for me roughly twenty minutes ago. What’s taking so long?
My phone dings in my pocket.
Meet me at Red Orchid at 9pm.
Irritation lances through me. It may be an unknown number, but I know exactly who it is. My uncle has been annoyingly persistent this week, finding ways to contact me despite all my attempts to block him. He must have a hoard of burner phones at his disposal. It’s the only way I can explain how he’s been able to reach out repeatedly.
Concern eats away at my chest. The Red Orchid? That’s a high-end lounge bar downtown. If he’s asking to meet there, it means Konstantin is in New York. How the hell did he manage to get into the States without raising any alarms? With a criminal record like his, I figured he would have been on a no-fly list. He must have found a work around. I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow involved money, violence, or both.
I block the number, knowing full well he’ll attempt to reach out again soon. This situation is getting out of hand. What do I have to do to get my uncle to leave my family alone?
A soft knock pulls me from my thoughts.
Aurora leans lightly against the doorframe, spinning her wedding ring around her finger. Her eyes are cast to the floor, her brows knitted together in worry. “You wanted to see me?”
“Close the door. Sit down.”
Aurora does as she’s asked, sitting on the guest chair across from my desk. I remain seated, studying her with more heated intent than anticipated. This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to look at her this week. It’s been hard. A near gargantuan task, though a necessity all the same. I tell myself it’s for her sake. Her beauty is too intoxicating, too mesmerizing. If I don’t keep my distance, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off her.
“What happened out there?” I ask evenly, leaning back in my chair.
She shifts in her seat. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
Aurora squints at me. “So you heard it?”
“Difficult not to.”
“But you didn’t do anything?” She crosses her arms, sounding wholly indignant now. Aurora’s a lot sexier than she has any right to be.
“It looked like you were holding your own just fine,” I state, rising slowly from my chair. “I simply wanted to hear your side of the story first.”
I circle around to the front of my desk, leaning against the edge in front of her. Aurora’s eyes flick up to me but return to the spot on the floor just as quickly. My jaw ticks. I don’t like not being able to see those pretty baby blues of hers. Before I can think against it, I reach out and tuck my fingers beneath her chin. Applying the faintest bit of pressure, I tilt her face up to look at me.
I regret it in an instant becausefuck. I almost forgot how beautiful she is. I’ve had dreams about those gorgeous, full lips. When I see her walking in the hall, I have to fight the urge to run my fingers through her hair. The other day when we were stuck riding the same elevator, I’d managed to ignore her completely. Little did she know I was barely hanging onto my sanity. All I wanted was to hit the emergency stop button, press her against the elevator wall, and have my way with her.
Heat stirs deep within my core. What I wouldn’t give to bend her over my desk right now. I have spent every day since Priscilla Kelp’s party thinking about her languid moans, the press of her hot skin, the way she moved so beautifully against me. Would she protest if I threw her over my knee and spanked that peachy ass of hers, or would she welcome it? The more I take in the length of her lashes, the cute point of her nose, the silky locks of her hair, the more I come to realize something.
This woman terrifies me. I have barely any control over this all-consuming hunger I have for her. I’m scared that one day soon, I’ll finally snap.
“Misha?” she whispers, her lips parted just so.
A shiver shoots down my spine at the sound of my name. Only my family is allowed to call me that, yet I can’t say I mind the way it sounds rolling off her tongue. I pull away. This isn’t a good idea. Everybody may be out to lunch, but my office walls are still made of glass. Anybody could walk by and see us together.
“I’ll have a word with Charlie when he gets back from his break,” I say. “He won’t bother you again, I’ll make sure of it.”
