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“Here we are,” the driver says as he brings the SUV to a stop. “Mr. Ulianov will meet you inside.”
“Thank you,” I say as I step out of the car and head up to the towering entrance. I inhale a deep breath and straighten my shoulders, adjusting my bag over my shoulder.
But I don't knock.
Because the heavy, intricately carved door swings open before I get a chance.
And as the door opens, a tall figure comes into view. He stands in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow of the estate’s interior. Cold dark eyes meet mine. And I feel the blood drain from my face. I feel my eyes fly wide and my body stiffen as I stare into the face of the man in front of me. I sway for a second before managing to get my wits about me…I only barely manage it, though.
Oh.
My.
Fuck!
“Ms. Jones?” Anton Ulianov says, his voice devoid of emotion.
Recognition washes over me like a tidal wave. It’s him! The man from the other night. Drunk hookup. Mind-blowing sex. No protection.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“Um… Mr. Ulianov?” I try to maintain my composure. He hasn’t even shown a flicker of recognition. But he has to be dumbfounded. Surely?
“Come in.” He steps aside, gesturing for me to enter, and my mind races as I cross the threshold.
What now?
What the hell do I do now?
“This way,” he says, leading me through the opulent foyer. The clipped tone of his Russian accent sends shivers down my spine.
Stop it!
Stop thinking about him naked!
“Tell me, Ms. Jones, what qualifications do you have to take care of a child?” he asks.
Is he kidding?
“Uh, well,” I fidget with the strap of my bag, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve done um…a first aid course,” I say, which is true. You never know when you’ll be dealing with a stabbing or a gunshot wound in my line of work. “And I have plenty of schooling experience.” My own schooling – which I was dismal at. “Plus, I’ve looked after tons of kids.” That’s a total lie. But I’m starting to think it really doesn’t matter. There’s no way I can work for this man.
“Experience is important,” he says, stopping at a set of double doors. “But so is trust. Can I trust you, Ms. Jones?”
I force myself to meet his gaze, trying to ignore the heat that courses through my veins as I stare into his eyes.
“Of course. I am nothing if not trustworthy.”
Unless I’m robbing you blind, that is.
Fuck, I have to get out of here.
“Good.” He pushes a pair of broad doors open, revealing a lavish living room filled with expensive furnishings. “Sit down, please. We have much to discuss.”
My heart races as I take a seat on the plush sofa, watching as he settles into an armchair across from me. The air between us crackles. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re both walking on eggshells.
“Would you like something to drink?” His voice is cool and detached. But it has to be an attempt to mask the unease he’s feeling.
Yeah.
