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“It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Sidorov,” Dad says, shaking his hand with verve as Ben pulls me into a side hug.
“Please, call me Mikhail,” he insists, then releases Dad’s hand to accept my mom’s.
“We look forward to discussing politics with you again sometime,” she says warmly, her usually scolding, motherly tone chased away by his charm.
“Yes, my people will definitely be in touch,” Mikhail says, nodding toward my father.
Then, as Ben hugs our parents goodbye, Mikhail turns his attention to me.
“Dani, would you mind stepping outside with me? I would love a moment alone.”
Mom’s eyebrows raise in a look of silent approval, and I know I’ll never hear the end of it if I say no.
“Sure,” I agree, keeping a tight rein on my tone.
“I’ll go bring the car around,” Ben suggests helpfully, heading for the front door.
It sours my stomach to hear my brother sounding like he’s this pompous businessman’s lackey.
Mikhail follows, holding the door open for me.
Though it makes my skin crawl, I step onto the front porch.
“Hey, Hanson,” I greet our night security, for once, extremely grateful that he’s there.
“Miss Richelieu and I would like a moment alone,” Mikhail states, dismissing the security guard with all the authority in the world.
“Of course.” Missing my silent plea to stay, Hanson gives a polite nod and descends the front steps—most likely to do a perimeter sweep.
As soon as he vanishes into the dark night, Mikhail turns to face me. Stepping forward, he boldly closes the distance between us, and for the first time, I realize that, while he’s not so muscular as Efrem, he’s tall enough to feel quite imposing.
Taking a reflexive step back, I meet the unyielding cement of the newel post at the top of our stair railing.
He takes advantage of the barricade behind me to narrow the space between us even further. “I must say, Dani,” Mikhail purrs, his silky voice low and seductive, “I’ve heard about how stunning you are, but after meeting you, I find you positively breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” I state flatly, leaning back over the railing in an attempt to get away.
But the oily businessman, who’s probably almost twice my age, is having none of it. His hips find mine as he leans over me, his arms trapping me as he braces his palms on the sturdy cement banister.
“What do you say you let me take you out to dinner sometime?” he suggests, his dark eyes like black holes threatening to swallow me whole.
“I don’t think so,” I say, my hands flat on his chest, ready to push him away if he comes any closer. Every instinct screams at me to run, that I’m in danger. My skin crawls with disgust at the man’s presumptive behavior.
But the respectful, politically correct side of me that my parents have drilled into me from a young age says it would be rude to physically shove him—even if he’s invading my personal space.
Where is Ben? And where the hell is Hanson?
I desperately want one of them to get here before things escalate. Because I know Mikhail wouldn’t push things further in their presence. He didn’t make a single move until he got me alone.
“No?” Mikhail asks, his tone challenging. He leans an inch closer, inhaling deeply before releasing a hum of approval. “What can I do to change your mind? I don’t like taking no for an answer.”
A single burst of incredulous laughter escapes me at the sleazy man’s nerve. “Well, that’s the only answer I have to give,” I counter, turning my face away. My back screams with the effort to maintain the last six inches of space between us.
“Come on. One date. What’s the harm in that?” Mikhail coaxes. He reaches up to grasp my jaw firmly between his fingers and turns my head to face him. “I think you’ll find I can beverypersuasive.”
His eyes flick hungrily toward my lips, and my stomach drops as I see the warning sign a split second before he starts to lean in.
“I saidno,” I insist, and this time I do push him.
