There’s a soft knock on my door, which is already ajar. When I look up from my desk, I find Mira there just as I requested.


    “May wee in?” she asks.


    I nod. “Please.”


    I close myptop,pletely intrigued by this friend she mentioned. The one who really needed money. I’m nothing if not charitable.


    As Mira walks inside, I catch sight of the woman behind her, and my lips twist with dark amusement when we lock eyes.


    “Ah, Ms. Monroe. So nice to see you again. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist for long.”


    “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m here for the job, nothing more.”


    “So, you’re the mystery friend.” I lean back in my chair, freely letting my gaze rove down her beautiful body, wanting her sprawled on my desk so I can feast on all those curves.


    “I guess I am.”


    Mira’s expression widens as she nces between us. “Wait, you two know each other?”


    “Sort of,” Tessa says, her gaze still fixed on me.


    “We met earlier,” I add. “You may go, Mira. I’ve got it from here.”


    “Okay, sir.” Her attention shifts to Tessa. “I’ll wait for you at the bar, alright?” She stares at my new friend as though I’m about to eat her.


    Well, that isn’t far from the truth…


    “I’ll be fine.” Tessa’s eyes continue to hold mine, and my blood pumps faster, surging into my cock and making me hard as stone.


    Mira nervously makes her escape and shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with my current fascination.


    “So…” I fold my arms over my chest. “You want to work at my club, huh?”


    “It’s why I’m here.” She lets out a dryugh.


    “And you understand the sort of club it is?”


    “I do. Exclusive sex club for every fantasy, catering to the uber rich and famous.”


    “That is correct.” I beckon her with a finger. “Come closer.”


    She takes a step toward me, then another, a teasing smile on her face. Every muscle in my body tenses, wanting to grab her and take her bent over my desk.


    The image won’t leave me, and my fists curl over my thighs. If she rounds my desk, she will see how hard I’ve be at the mere sight of her. I cannot imagine what it will feel like once those clothes are gone and she’s bare for me.


    When she’s only a few inches away from my desk, I look up at her tempting gaze. “You think a girl like you can handle working for a ce like mine?”


    “I’m not a girl. I’m twenty-six, old man.”


    My teeth gnaw. That sexy smirk she’s wearing, that tone, makes me want to put her over my knee, tied up and at my mercy.


    It will happen, Ms. Monroe. You just keep talking and see how far you can push me.


    “I may be neen years older, but I promise, one night with me and you won’t remember why you ever wasted your time on vani when there are far better vors to try.”


    “Always so sure of yourself, huh?”


    “It isn’t merely confidence; it’s a fact.” I push my chair back and turn toward her. “Come here, little girl.”


    She doesn’t hesitate,ing to stand right by my knees.


    “Closer.” My thighs spread to wee her home.


    When she nces at my obvious straining hard-on, her mouth curves. Devious woman.


    My God, I want her. Want to possess her. Own her. Carve my name on her perfect skin. She’s not fazed by me, and it only makes me want her that much more.


    My finger hooks into the strap of her dress, and she flinches, grabbing my wrist.


    “What the hell are you doing?” A sh of irritation settles in her brows.


    Her touch sears into me—a brand I want poisoning my flesh, rotting through my bones, fused with her infectiousness.


    I let out a wryugh. “Inspecting my merchandise. Now drop your arms, malyshka.”


    Her jaw tenses, and the fact that she doesn’t want to only makes me need it more.


    My little temptress doesn’t realize who I truly am, does she? But she will soon enough.


    She does what I ordered, lowering her arms, and with my gaze locked on hers, I pull both straps down, exposing her perfect breasts, firm and more than a handful. Those pink pebbled nipples are like an invitation, daring me toe in for a taste, but that’s not what this is.


    If she wants to work at my club, she has to befortable doing just about anything and with anyone.


    She nces away from me, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths she attempts to control.


    “Look at me.” My voice is gruff with arousal as I fight with everything in me not to take what I want.


    Her eyes narrow when they lock with mine.


    “We can stop right here if you wish, or…” I start to pull the dress past her chest, and her face strains.


    “No. Do what you have to do.”


    I intend to.


    “This is no ce for a shy little thing like yourself.”


    My hand clenches the fabric of her dress, dragging it past her stomach and lowering until the first peek of her cunt appears. And my only regret is that she’s not sitting on my face where I can taste it.


    Her hands ball as I continue removing her dress.


    “I’m not shy.” But that crack in her tone betrays her.


    “Don’t lie to me, Ms. Monroe.” I yank the dress past her thighs, my face lowering to her core and inhaling its scent as she steps out of the garment.


    Her legs squeeze, and I pry them open while looking up at her, enjoying the torment on her face.


    “If you have a problem with my hands on you, how will you ever handle anyone else’s hands?”


    The thought of anyone else touching her makes a surprising level of rage pummel through me. This is quite interesting, this possessiveness. Oddly enticing too. I’m going to enjoy this little game with her.


    She grabs a fistful of my hair. “What now?”


    “Now…”


    I straighten, purposely letting my gaze slink down every bare curve, knowing how much she needs a proper fuck. It’s basically written all over that tight face. Wonder if her cunt is just as tight and angry, like a little pussycat with sharp ws.


    “You put on a show for me and let me be the judge.”


    “What?” She chokes on the word while I let out a bored sigh.


    “The door is right there, Ms. Monroe. I’m not holding you prisoner. This job isn’t for everyone.”


    Her fingers quiver, but only for a second, her mouth forming a thin line. “What kind of show?”


    My lips wind up. The kind I want burned into my memory long after I’m through with you.


    “Hop on my desk.”


    Her mouth trembles like she’s about to say something, but like a good girl, she does what she’s told. Climbing up, she mps her legs shut, trying to hide from me.


    Unfortunately, that won’t work for either one of us.


    Grabbing her knees, I slowly part them. “Spread your thighs, katyonak. Show me everything.”<hr>


    TESSA


    His hands make me feel like my skin’s on fire. Every touch sets me off, which enrages me more.


    I shouldn’t be turned on right now. This level of humiliation shouldn’t get me off, but it does. I’ve clearly gone insane—or he did something to me—because I slowly let him pull my legs apart until a deep grunt escapes from his throat.


    His dark eyes lock to mine, my pulse battering in my chest as he drops his attention to my core, practically licking and sucking me already. I wonder if that’s what he’ll do.


    Would I let him? Do I even have a choice? Getting close to Konstantin Marinov is the only chance Nate has.


    Hisrge, masculine hands engulf my inner thighs, making every inch of me hot with lust. If I didn’t want to stab him to death, I would’ve fucked him by now and enjoyed myself.


    Instead, here I am, pretending to tolerate the thought of him, let alone the way he touches me. He can’t know how much I truly hate him.


    His gaze drags over me while his fingers tracezy circles up and down my inner thighs.


    They say he’s a monster. A sadistic killer who feeds his enemies to pigs just for the thrill. But right now, he’s just a man with a hard dick, and I can use that to my every advantage.


    I roll my hips, tone dripping with lust. “So, what would you like me to do?”


    He leans back, a teasing pull on his lips. Even while he’s sitting, he towers over me. His frame is at least six-five, though I’m sure it’s more. Fingers drift over his neatly trimmed goatee, eyes dark as sin, fixed on me with unsettling focus, as though he’s trying toe up with the sickest thing he can make me do just to see how far I’ll go.


    But I’m ready. He has no idea the lengths I’ll go to save my brother.


    Slowly, he begins to unbutton his cuffs, dragging each sleeve up his forearms with deliberate ease, never taking his eyes off me. They roam over my skin like a touch, sparking goose bumps in their wake.


    Every instinct screams at me to grab my clothes and bolt. But I’m frozen, held in ce by the intensity of his gaze and the slow burn of his control.


    As his sleeves roll up, ink is revealed—dark, brutal, beautiful. Thick veins of tattooed ck snakes wind around his forearms, their jaws unhinged, fangs bared. They’re coiled in barbed wire, vicious and alive, like they might slither right off his skin. There’s no color. Only darkness, just like his soul.


    I’ve never seen anything so dangerous. Or so mesmerizing.


    “Touch yourself, malyshka. Show me how you do it when no one’s there to watch.”


    Shit. I can’t do this.


    When he catches my hesitation, he scoffs and starts to rise from his seat. “I don’t have time for childish games, Tessa. Sure, you’re nice to look at, but I have more pressing things to deal with than sitting here waiting for you to decide whether you’re actually cut out to work in a ce like mine.” He gestures toward the door, dismissive and cold. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”


    No. I can’t let this slip through my fingers.


    “Give me another chance.”


    My blood pumps in my temples when the corner of his mouth lifts, full of dark satisfaction.


    This bastard knows he’s won.


    “If you want to work for me, moya dorogaya, you have to be willing to do anything and everything. Are you willing?”


    No.


    “Yes.”


    “Then show me.”


    When he leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on me, I want to kill him.


    But I can’t. What a shame.


    His gaze is relentless, hungry, and when his tongue drags across his lower lip, I nearlye undone.


    I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. How I’m supposed to touch myself with him watching. How I’m supposed to imagine it’s him inside me without hating myself for it. But that’s exactly what I’m thinking, and I despise how much I want it.


    My fingers drift lower before I can talk myself out of it. My body’s tense, stiff with nerves, until his expression shifts.


    His eyes darken, lids heavy with lust, and just like that, something clicks. That look—like he wants to devour me whole—is all it takes. It’s the knowledge that I have power over him that gets me off.


    I roll my clit in slow, deliberate circles, breath hitching as pleasure blooms in my gut. A moan slips past my lips when his handsnd on my knees, spreading me wider until my legs press against the cold surface of his desk.


    I rub faster. Deeper. Dip a finger inside with a breathless gasp.


    He growls something in Russian—low, rough. “Add another finger and go slow.”


    I obey.


    His tongue slides across his mouth, his fingertips digging into my thighs as his eyes follow every movement like a predator watching prey. Heat curls through me, sharp and dizzying, until myshes flutter shut, overwhelmed by how badly I want toe for him.


    “Don’t you dare close your eyes and deny me this,” he husks out, and my core squeezes at his dominating tone.


    I try not to think about what he represents, the rage he brings out in me. Instead, I use that rage as fuel to the fire and I let it win.


    I’m so close. My God, this feels too good. I can only imagine how rough he’d be. The way I’d fight it, the way he’d fight back.


    “Fuck! I’m gonnae.”


    He growls, pushing my hand back, his finger recing mine while my chest aches for its next breath.


    He grazes my clit, dipping into my entrance only an inch, and I squeeze around him, causing another curse to slip from him.


    “Not yet. You don’te until I tell you to.”


    Oh God. This is wrong. So wrong.


    It’s okay. You can go back to wanting to murder him tomorrow. It’s been too long since you’ve had a man’s attention. Use it.


    He takes his finger into his mouth and sucks, and my need spirals when he groans while tasting me.


    He reaches down to his ankle, and when his handes back up, it’s holding a nine-millimeter, offering it to me like a gift.


    “What do you want me to do with this?”


    “Use it.”


    My eyes widen, adrenaline pumping through my veins.


    “Don’t worry, the safety is on. I wouldn’t want you to blow up such a pretty cunt. Now, let’s see how much of it you can fit.”


    Oh fuck, he’s not joking.


    My hand trembles a little as I reach for it. Not because I’m afraid of a gun—I’ve used plenty—but just from this insanity, this desire.


    But I can’t hesitate. He’s this close to kicking me out of his office, and he’s not the kind of man who’d willingly give me another chance.


    Grabbing the gun, I grasp it tight, lowering it to my core and rolling the muzzle against my clit until the overwhelming sensation fills my entire body. My back arches, my eyes still on his as I work myself with it, so close I can taste it.


    “Put it inside you. I want to watch your cunt stretch around my gun. I want to smell you every time I use it.”


    My head grows dizzy with insane lust, and I find myself doing just that. The cold metal inches inside me and I cry out in pleasure as I tighten around the hardness, imagining it’s him.


    His eyes turn molten, jaw strained so hard I’m afraid he’ll crack a tooth. When my cries grow, when my wetness coats the metal and I sink it in and out, his finger grazes my clit until my back jumps off the desk.


    “Need help?”


    “Oh God, yes…”


    I can’t believe I just said that, but I’m desperate and dizzy. Right now, I don’t care who he is or what he represents.


    “No…” His wicked mouth lifts up. “You started, you finish.”


    Fuck. I hate him.


    “Come on, now. Make a mess of my desk.”


    He pins my legs on opposite sides, and I work myself with his weapon, knowing he’s probably killed over a hundred people with it. I should feel dirty at the thought, but that filth is what makes my body grow wanton, chasing the orgasm I’m craving.


    My eyes fasten to his, that gaze of his dark and corrupting every inch of me. My self-hatred continues to grow for allowing this monster to do this to me, but I know deep down I like it.


    When I cry out with my release, his face nears my pussy, like he’s trying to smell and taste me. Like all he wants is to have me.


    But I won’t give him that. Not yet. I’ll be the carrot dangling in front of his face until he can’t resist. Until I’m the only one he wants.


    That’s when he’ll let his guard down and let me into his world, and that’s when I’ll get what I want.


    Konstantin Marinov is nothing but a toy I n to y with until it breaks.


    And I will break him, if it’s thest thing I do.