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He puts the cigarette out when he sees me and sets his shoulders back.
“Morning, Malyshka.” He beams as if we’re old friends and everything is wonderful.
“I would prefer if you didn’t call me that.” I keep my tone measured and without the disgust I feel for hearing the endearment again.
“You seemed to like it just fine when you first heard it.”
“Back then, you were someone else. Not the devil or the fraud.” I know that was way too harsh and I’m pushing my limits, but I can’t act as if I’m just going to play along with his games and I’m fine with being a pawn.
A sinful grin spreads across his handsome face. “Do I need to remind you what happens if you don’t play nice? Believe me, I have all sorts of wicked ideas for that body of yours.”
“I remember very well, thank you.”
“Good, then we can start today off on the right foot.”
I look away from his intense stare at the large oil painting on the wall of a pirate ship caught in a tempestuous storm. The painting looks old and valuable. So do the ornaments on the wall and the solid mahogany table in the center of the room with the matching chairs around it.
“How many people live in this house?” I look back at him.
“Apart from us, there are five others. All staff. Jeanne is one of them. You’ll meet the others today.”
“How many bedrooms does this house have?”
“Ten.”
“And this is your home?”
“Yes.” He watches me closely and I look over his suit.
“Are you going to work? Do you even need to work?” For all I know, he could be meeting with a bunch of drug lords to discuss their next billion-dollar drop. Or it could be worse, like maybe he sells people—women. Women like me.
“I do work.”
“What kind of work do you do? I’m guessing it’s not with the government or anything to do with the Navy. Was that injury story even true? I mean, maybe you were called back to yourKnights.”
At my comment, something dulls in his eyes, and I can tell I’ve struck a nerve.
“If I hadn’t been injured, I’d still be in the Navy. There is no question about that.” There’s something about his eyes when he’s telling the truth or showing emotion that lets me know what he’s saying is genuine. It’s like whatever guard he’s placed up falls away and I can see the real him. “Now I work at my family’s company, Volkova Inc. It’s a shipping company. I take care of the fleet of cargo ships we have worldwide. Sometimes I’m here in Boston, at other times I’m in Russia or Norway.”
I’m surprised he told me so much.
“What exactly do you do there?”
“Anything to do with finance and logistics.”
It sounds so ordinary, like something you hear a normal businessman talking about. But he’s anything but.
Malik points to the chair at the end of the table. “Sit. We’re going to eat while we talk. I have a busy day ahead.”
I make my way down to the chair but can feel his eyes on my ass with every step I take. Just to check, I turn and look at him. I see I’m right.
He’s checking me out, and even when he sees me looking at him, he doesn’t stop like most men would when they get caught. Malik Volkova shows he’s not most men by continuing to stare at my ass, then oh-so languidly runs his gaze over my body as if it’s his next meal.
My cheeks burn with the heat of arousal, and that wild combination of chemistry and attraction I’ve felt for this man since the first day we met stirs in my body like hot lava.
His eyes meet mine just before I sit, then he seats himself at the head of the table in the chair next to me.
We stare at each other for a few silent beats that fuel the deadly combination of everything I need to be wary about this man. This thing between us, this reckless thing I can’t stop myself from feeling and he clearly feels, too, is real.
