Vasilisa’s head snaps up. “I didn’t mean right now. Christ! It’s almost midnight.”
“Mitch is paid to be available twenty-four seven. He won’t mind.” I nod toward the cell. “Call him and ask what you need. Now.”
Her eyebrows lift, then she slowly rises and approaches, her steps cautious and guarded. She appears worried that I might pounce on her. And maybe she’s right to be, because the temptation to do just that is a barely leashed torrent coursing through me.
She stops a couple of steps in front of me and looks down at my extended hand.
“And you can’t just let the man sleep and have him called tomorrow?” she drawls, eyeing the phone. “You’re one shitty employer.”
“No, I’m not. Every single man who works for me is amply compensated for their service.”
“So, are they just that? Employees, nothing more?”
“Extremely well-paid employees.” I press the call button with my thumb. “Ask away.”
Vasilisa looks up, her eyes meeting mine. Neither of us can actually clearly see the other’s face in the darkness, but I can feel her gaze boring into mine as she tries to penetrate beyond the surrounding gloom.
“Boss?” Mitch’s voice breaks the silence.
Slowly, Vasilisa’s fingers wrap around the phone on my palm. The instant her skin comes in contact with mine, I close my hand on hers, holding her in place. She tenses immediately but doesn’t try to break herself free.
“I hope your wrists have healed,” I say as I brush my thumb over her knuckles. “I’m sorry you suffered that.”
“They have,” she whispers. “And I hope your forearm is on the mend. But I won’t say that I’m sorry.”
A smile pulls at my lips.
“Boss?” Mitch insists again. “Can you hear me?”
I let go of Vasilisa’s hand. Her fingers feather over my palm as she lifts the phone and puts it to her ear.
“Hi, it’s your boss’s pet hacker speaking,” she quips.
Her eyes are still locked on mine even though she can’t really see them. I’m sure of that the same way I know her fingers brushed my palm on purpose.
“I need some information on the NAS server you set up.”
My gaze follows Vasilisa as she returns to the desk and remains locked on her for the next hour while she listens to whatever Mitch tells her and simultaneously types away on the laptop. None of the mumbo jumbo she mentions makes any sense to me, but I still soak up every single word. She has the most alluring voice—a little husky but honeyed in a sweet way that, listening to it, makes me imagine how she would sound while pinned under me.
It’s not a daydream, but a promise to myself. I will claim Vasilisa Petrova as mine. In every way possible.
I take a sip of my wine and continue watching her as she once again draws the pencil between her teeth, holding the phone wedged between her chin and shoulder. These evenings have somehow become the highlight of my day. I could gladly spend hours simply observing her doing her work, or talking with her to try to figure out what it is about her that has me so enthralled.
Yes, her beauty is beyond compare, and looking at her feels like viewing the most sublime work of art, but her appearance is not the sole reason for my obsession. I’m completely captivated by her tenacity and determination to do whatever it takes to keep her family safe. She hasn’t tried to run even once, according to my security team’s reports on her movements. Neither did she try to slip any information to her family when she used Guido’s phone to speak with her mother the other day. The strength of this girl’s will is astonishing.
So is her daringness to snark back at me. People don’t ever do that. All too afraid of my wrath.
Fear is good. Necessary. It makes it so much easier to get them to dance to my tune. However, I don’t want my vespetta to be scared of me, which is why I’ve taken such great lengths to hide my face from her. I want her defiance. Her banter. And more of her ridiculous-looking doodles.
My lips quirk as I remember the sticky note I found on the laptop after one of our evenings. It took me a few moments to realize that the strange-shaped creature with an apron was a rendition of me. The speech bubble drawn next to it is what eventually clued me in.
“Okay, I’ll try that.” Vasilisa lowers the phone to the desk and pushes away some of the dark strands falling over her eyes before resuming her work.
Tonight, she used another tie of mine to gather her hair at the top of her head. She tried to corral the mass, but a big part of it escaped during the evening and is now falling in tangled strands around her lovely face. My fingers itch to touch the soft tendrils, and I have to keep reminding myself why I can’t go to her and do exactly that.
“I see you decided to expand your garments,” I say, eyeing the jacket from my suit that she put on over one of my dress shirts. The getup looks ridiculous on her—swallowing her small frame. It does look like she’s wearing a tent.
“I was cold,” she mumbles without looking up.
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “Cold?”
“Yes. Your jacket works, but I would appreciate something actually in my size. Your hospitality leaves a lot to be desired, Rafael.”
“What else do you need?” I growl. She was cold. Because of me!
Vasilisa’s eyes rise from the laptop screen, focusing on my spot in the corner. I immediately lean deeper into the shadows.
“Letting me go home isn’t an option, I assume?”
“No.”
“T-shirts. Leggings. A hoodie. Socks. Pajamas. And a hairbrush. Oh, and some real breakfast foods. I hate cereal.”
“Is that all?”
“And women’s deodorant, please. I don’t want to keep going around smelling like you.”
My cock instantly turns to granite at the mere idea of her carrying my scent. “Fine.”
