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RUSLAN
Emma shows up on time, but she looks like she barely slept last night. There are bags under her eyes and her usually immaculate bun is loose and unkempt. When she walks in with my schedule for the day, her eyes skim over me without seeming to process what she’s actually seeing.
Is she self-conscious? Embarrassed? Annoyed?
And why the hell do I need to know so badly?
“Good morning, sir.” She hands me the schedule, which is neatly color-coded as per usual. “The Santino people called and asked if they could postpone the meeting to next week. What would you like me to tell them?”
I scan through dates and times without absorbing any of it. “Yeah. Reschedule.”
She nods. “Should I get your coffee now, sir? Or would you like it at ten during your meeting with the finance department?”
For some reason, the “sir” is bothering the hell out of me today. It was okay before, when we were just fucking. But now, I’ve been in her ramshackle little apartment. I’ve met her kids. Ilikeher kids.
Which also begs the question—how the fuck didthathappen?
My voice is gruff when I answer. “At the meeting is fine.”
“Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“How are the kids?”
Her eyebrows lift instantly. Her gaze slides over my face, but again, it refuses to stick. “The kids are…” She sighs and, as she does, that mask cracks just enough to show me the human beneath it. “It was a hard night. Rae had a nightmare and she ended up waking the other two. When I finally managed to get them all back to sleep, Caroline was up with a nightmare of her own.”
“And Josh?”
She hesitates, her eyebrows lifting even higher. “Josh is… Josh. He wants to be strong. He slept on the floor of my room the whole night because he wanted to protect us.”
I frown. “He’s eight. He shouldn’t have to protect anyone.”
Emma bites her bottom lip. “I know that. But I think he feels an urge to step up and be the man of the house because his father—” She breaks off mid-sentence, her cheeks flushing with color. “I’m sorry. This is not your problem.”
I want to remind her that I’m the one who asked, but she’s already retreating toward the door. She turns on the spot, freezes, then turns back to me. Before I can figure out a way to ask her what I truly want to know, she cuts off any hope of further conversation. “Did you want anything else, Mr. Oryolov?”
Hell yes. So many things.I want to know why she clams up every time her deadbeat brother-in-law is mentioned. I want to hear how she ended up in this mess and how it feels to have gone through what she’s gone through. I want to see, yet again, what it looks like when she comes.
And most of all, I want to know why she’s so damn determined to hide all that from me.
“No. That’s all for now.”
The redness on her cheeks recedes as she walks out of my office. Gritting my teeth, I lean back and swivel my chair toward the view of the city through my windows. The overwhelming question that I find myself faced with is,Why do I even care?
I already know enough about her life. Between my glimpse of it yesterday and all the information Kirill dug up for me, I have most of the story.
And yet the fact that all this information has come to me secondhand bothers me. I wantherto tell me. I want her towantto tell me.
Yes, I want her body. But there’s a gnawing in my gut that’s hungry for more.
When did sex stop being enough?
And if sex is really not enough… what more do I want?
* * *
“Do you think the owner will tell us who this other competing buyer is?”
I purse my lips. “I don’t give a damn if he confirms it or not. It’s Adrik. I know it is.”
