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“WHAT THE hell? Is she for real?” I mutter as my gaze locks onto her. “She wasn’t included in this morning’s candidates, was she?”
My eyes glue to Sophia before darting to Svetlana standing rigidly at my side. She solemnly shakes her head, her stern expression colored with an unusual hint of curiosity.
“No, sir. A late addition. One of the janitorial staff vouched for her.”
I’d burned through those profiles this morning, all eleven, each potential candidate picked apart. But she wasn’t among them.
The sheaf of resumés in my hand buckles, crumpling in my tense grip. She crashed the party, an unexpected twist in my otherwise meticulous process. A surprise but not necessarily an unwelcome one.
Now, here she is, in my sight again. Sophia. Like a damn mirage that won’t go away. She’s back. There are a lot of questions I should be asking right now, and top of the list should be “Why?”
What’s her reason for coming back here?
What are the chances of this being a coincidence?
Good questions, all of them. Instead, my pulse throbs in my veins, my cock swelling with an undeniable urgency. Her presence is a dangerous cocktail, her scent the catalyst, like pouring gasoline on an already raging inferno. The fragrance of her perfume lingers in the air, a sultry hint of jasmine and vanilla that drills into my senses.
I wonder what she’s got on under that funeral-like black dress of hers.
“Blyad, chert vozmi,” I curse under my breath. The dress clings to her body like a second skin, radiating that “fuck me” vibe. An arrow to my libido.
Is she wearing those lacy little panties that drive me crazy?
Hell, is she even wearing anything under it at all?
The thought sends a jolt straight to my crotch. I can feel my pants tightening, and I need to shift my gaze before I completely lose it.
But it’s those damn eyes of hers – they’re messing with my head. They bore into me, tearing down every goddamn defense I’ve ever built. The room’s buzzing with noise, but it all fades into nothing.
She’s the only thing that matters. The only thing I see.
We lock eyes, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.
I raise an eyebrow, daring her to look away. She’s shaking, her breath hitching in her chest, her skin pale as a ghost. But her gaze… Her gaze is fucking fearless. It taunts me, dares me to break first.
A silent dare between us. I lift an eyebrow. Her response? A defiant glare.
“What the fuck?” I growl. I’m the boss here. Yet she’s got me feeling like a horny schoolboy.
It’s a mindfuck, a headspin. Feelings, desires I haven’t felt in years.
I watch her as her chest swells ever so slightly before her shoulders adjust and her spine straightens. She still looks fearlessly at me, her gaze daring me to choose her.
“I am not only a nanny-extraordinaire, but I’m also available 24/7 for Yulia. That’s right, no breaks, no vacations, just pure, unadulterated dedication!” She’s up there, chin high, voice trembling, but she’s bulldozing through it.
The room buzzes with whispers, but all I can zero in on is her. Sophia. She’s a live wire in a room of muted tones.
Yey-Bogu!
I haven’t felt this damn entertained in years.
Her “pitch,” if you can even dignify it with that term, is downright ballsy. Not your everyday scene; a woman offering herself up like a Christmas present to be a nanny in the den of the mafia household. And the sheer gutsiness of it! Blyat! That’s a rare sight, intriguing.
I’m trying to keep a poker face, clenching my jaw tight, but it’s a damn futile effort. Laughter is surging up, obliterating any pretense of seriousness I’ve been clinging to. I make a stab at suppressing it, but it’s about as effective as using a toothpick to stop a speeding bullet.
This is fucking unreal.
It bursts from me, a low chuckle at first, then escalating into full-on guttural laughter that shakes me to my core. My body convulses with the force of it, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.
