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I chuckle. “My work is of a sensitive nature. Highly confidential. You’d have to kill me before I told you about what I do.”
The corner of her lip ticks up into a grin. “Must be pretty serious stuff.”
“Deadly, in fact.”
“You’re funny.”
I shrug. “So I’m told. My father used to tell me that out of all my brothers, I probably could have grown up to be a comedian. Not that he remembers telling me that.”
Natalya regards me carefully. “What exactly is the nature of Lev’s condition? He has moments of clarity, but they’re few and far between. And why doesn’t he seem to remember you?”
I frown at this. If I tell her what happened to Lev, that I found him a few years ago locked up in a dark, dingy basement in Siberia with the bare necessities by order of my uncle, Konstantin, she’d never believe me. It’s too dark of a story to bear repeating. I don’t want to give Natalya nightmares.
I yawn. “The milk’s kicking in. I think we should get to bed.”
Natalya rinses her mug, then mine in the sink. “You’re probably right. I’m sure Simon will be up in a few hours.”
We leave the kitchen together and climb the stairs. Natalya remains in front of me, a stair or two ahead. We navigate through the darkness in silence, nothing but the creak of our footsteps against the old floorboards reaching my ears.
At the very top of the stairs, Natalya trips forward, likely unsure where the last step was in the dark. She gasps as she catches herself on the railing, but not before my hands shoot out to help steady her from the step below.
“Careful,” I warn.
Natalya turns to face me, her hands resting on my shoulders. “Th-thank you,” she whispers, peering down at me with a look I can’t quite decipher. Her grip tightens slightly, her lips parted just so. Natalya applies a bit of pressure and dips down quickly to kiss my cheek.
“Thank you for the drink,” she says before hastily turning to leave.
I take her hand before she can escape, following her up the last few steps. Heat pools deep within my core. I can barely control myself.
“Now why did you have to go and do that?” I ask, stepping into her space.
Natalya takes a step back until I have her pinned against the wall, but she makes no effort to pull away. I lick my lips, overwhelmed by this sudden hunger boiling in my veins. She’s awakened something in me. Perhaps it has always been here, biding its time.
I dare to trace my lips along the side of her neck, drinking in the scent of her sweet floral perfume. Rose petals, so delicate and mild, yet it makes my head spin harder than any of the most addictive substances known to man.
“Dimitri?” she murmurs. The heat radiating off our bodies could rival that of the sun.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“N-no, but…”
“Tell me you feel it, too,” I rasp against the crook of her neck. I want to kiss her, touch her, lick her, bend her over my knee.
Natalya moans softly against my ear, her hands gripping my shirt tightly. “I… I feel it, too, but—”
I let my hand fall between us, tracing the curve of her breasts and down her stomach. She’s just as soft as she looks. I manage to get my fingers past the elastic of her waistband before Natalya stops me, gripping my wrist. She doesn’t throw me off. Instead, she holds my hand there, contemplating. Will she let me go further? Her heavy breathing and the slight cant of her hips tells me she wants me to.
“You’re my boss,” she insists. “We shouldn’t.”
Dammit, she’s right. Since when did I become one of those walking clichés—the middle-aged man who goes after his much younger nanny? What the hell am I thinking?
“You’re right,” I say lamely, pulling back. I miss her warmth immediately. “Promise to forget what just happened, alright?”
Natalya nods slowly as she bites her bottom lip, her knees squeezing together tight. “R-right.”
“Good night, Natalya.”
She gulps. “Good night, Dimitri.”
