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“However.”
I should have known. With men like Ruslan, there’s always a “however.”
“If you so much as breathe a word about this contract toanyone, then—
“Then,” I cut in, “the deal is off. No protection, no recommendations, no pension—and you have the means to completely destroy my chances of employment in any capacity ever again. I’ll be lucky if I can brew coffee for a living. Did I miss anything?”
He cocks his head to the side. That tiny little smirk is back. “You did not.”
I nod. “I pay attention, Ruslan.” It’s mildly embarrassing that goosebumps fleck my arms when I say his name. I’m lucky I chose long sleeves today.
He leans forward, those arms flexing as they hit the table. “Then you’ll have no problem following my rules.”
I laugh. “You better hopeyoucan follow the rules.” I point to myself with both hands. “Hoot and a half, remember?”
Those amber eyes burn a little brighter. Then, without warning, he reaches out and grabs my wrist. His grip is tight, bordering on painful. He meets my gaze with an unflinching glare. “I’m going to make myself very,veryclear: this isn’t a relationship. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your anything. Feelings aren’t an option.”
I swallow a gulp and nod.
He relaxes his grip and sits back in his chair. “Good. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can enjoy dinner.”
* * *
An hour and a half later, the SUV pulls up outside my building.
I’m very satisfied right now, but not in the way I’d expected. The food at Eleven Madison Park was nothing short of holy. The conversation, however, was extremely lacking. In the most literal sense of the word. After we ordered, he barely said a word to me.
I’d half-expected him to take me back to his fuckpad after we finished dinner, but he gave the driver my address instead.
“Goodnight, Emma.”
Of course, he’s not gonna walk me to the door. That’s a boyfriend’s job, and he’s my… fuck buddy? Sugar daddy? Casual sex partner? Friend with benefits?
I almost snort at that last thought. We’re definitelynotfriends.
“Goodnight, Ruslan.”
To his credit, he waits until I’m inside the building before driving off. I watch the SUV go, its engine purring softly in the distance. And all I can think is…
What a waste of lingerie.
11
RUSLAN
“I believe she’s what they call a ‘hot mess.’” Isay’s chuckle comes to a grinding halt when he sees the look on my face. “Uh, um…ahem,what I mean is, she has a lot going on, boss.”
“Your job is to tell me what she’s got going on. I don’t need a running fucking commentary from the peanut gallery.”
He nods awkwardly, his ears turning beet red while his gaunt face remains comically pale. “Right. Of course. Err, so, she’s got a pretty large rent to deal with every month. And it looks like she has student loans that she needs to pay off as well. Then, of course, the funeral expenses.
I frown. “Whose funeral?”
“Her sister’s.”
There’s a question on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it at the last second. I don’t need to know Emma’s life story. I don’t need to know about her past, her dreams, her fears, or her future goals.
I need to know just enough to make this little arrangement of ours a successful one. Beyond that, her traumas are her own.
