The boardroom is empty now.


    Thest investor left ten minutes ago, but I haven’t moved. I’m still seated at the head of the table, elbows resting on the ss surface, eyes locked on the screen in front of me.


    On her.


    She’s still sitting at myputer after I messaged her for the ount number, a few minutes longer than necessary. I’m sure she decided to do a little sightseeing.


    I don’t me her. I would’ve done the same thing. Curiosity is survival.


    Or sometimes death. All depends on how many buttons one pushes before they find themself blown to bits.


    For her sake, I hope it doesn’te to that. I think I’d miss her. She’s sharp. Tough. Doesn’t cower. And that makes her irresistible.


    I’m not even sure if she’ll make a good assistant yet. Not like Tanya was. But I never once had the urge to press my body against Tanya’s just to hear the way her breath caught.


    That was actually a good thing. Now, I can’t seem to think of doing anything else. Tessa makes me crave things I have no business craving. Makes me restless in a way I’ve never been.


    That’s exactly why she’s here. I know it’s a mistake to let her get under my skin the way she’s managed to. But I’m curious now. And curiosity can get a man killed.


    The smart thing would be to end this. But I don’t want to. Not even a little.


    And that’s the real problem.


    I push up from my seat and move down the corridor, my footsteps silent against the marble. Entering my office, I find her seated at her desk. She turns slightly at the sound of my approach, but she doesn’t rise as our eyes connect, and something in me tightens.


    “I’ll be needing those spreadsheets now.” I ce the man folder down on her desk, crowding her from behind. My hand brushes her shoulder, and she flinches.


    “Meeting go well?” She flips the folder open, her tone dry like she doesn’t actually care.


    “Better than expected.”


    As I lean over, my mouth near her ear, the scent of her shampoo invades my senses—a sweet drug I never intended to get addicted to. Reaching around her, my hand covers hers as I guide the mouse across the screen to pull up the file she’ll need. Her breath hitches, making a smile tug at my lips.


    “Let me show you where the temtes are.”


    “Okay.” She clears her throat, every tiny hair on her arm rising the more my hand remains there.


    “Once you finish…” My lips brush the shell of her ear. “…we’ll have lunch.”


    Or preferably, you’ll be my lunch, dinner, and dessert.


    I can’t seem to forget how good she tasted, how much I want that again.


    “Lunch with the boss on my first day?” She quirks a brow from behind her shoulder. “Should I be honored or concerned?”


    “Both.” I offer her a small grain of truth. “I haven’t decided yet.” Straightening, I spin her chair until she’s facing me, my fingers curling under her chin. “Depends how much more of that mouth you think I’m going to tolerate before I put it to better use.”


    Her eyes glint. “I’m sure I can handle anything you give me, Mr. Marinov.”


    My cock throbs. She doesn’t know who she’s ying with.


    I grab a fistful of her hair and lean in, my mouth grazing hers. “Don’t do that, Tessa. You have no idea how close you are to setting me off.”


    Her gaze flicks to my hard-on straining against my pants. “I have a pretty good idea.”


    I nearly lose all semnce of control, ready to take her bent over this desk. My jaw tightens as I mutter a Russian curse, tearing my hand away from her like it burned me.


    “Spreadsheets. I expect them in an hour.”


    Then I walk out because if I don’t, I’ll remind her exactly who she’s dealing with, and I won’t be gentle.<hr>


    EMILIA


    The restaurant is quiet and opulent as the hostess leads us to a small table in the corner, the glow of candlelight spreading across the crisp white tablecloth. Konstantin pulls out my chair, eyes dark and unreadable, but the heat simmering beneath them coils between us, thick and electric.


    He feels it too. And it’s going to ruin us.


    The table is set on a terrace overlooking a lush floral garden, the scent of jasmine and roses drifting in the air. A tiny waterfall ripples in the background as I settle into my seat, his palms stroking down my arms, and I shiver from his touch, my eyes closing for a beat as I let the warmth of his palms sink into my marrow.


    “This is a nice ce,” I tell him as his fingers drift away and he takes his seat across from me.


    “I’m d you approve.” His smirk could drop the panties off of any woman in the room. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was cheap. It wouldn’t bode well for my reputation.”


    Right. Except I already know his true reputation: a psycho in an Armani suit.


    Before I can respond, a man in a chef’s coat approaches with a bottle of wine. “Mr. Marinov. Good to see you.”


    Konstantin nods, gesturing to me. “This is Tessa, my new assistant.”


    His eyes line with mine, dark gaze lingering, like he meant to say something else.


    But of course he didn’t. I’m only his assistant. Nothing more.


    The chef offers a polite greeting, describes the seven-course meal, and pours us each a ss of wine, before slipping out of view. I’m almost tempted to have a taste, but I won’t. I’ll never go down that hill. It’s not worth it.


    I lift my ss of ice water, taking a slow sip.


    “Shame I don’t drink. Seems like it’s allowed on the job.” A teasing grin shes over my lips.


    Hisugh is low and warm, feathering over me like a ghost. “That’s alright.” His fingers graze mine from across the table. “You’ll find there are other perks to working for me.”


    “Perk. Is that what we’re calling it these days?”


    His gaze pins me. “Life’s too short not to enjoy it, Ms. Monroe.” He draws his hand back, eyes distant for a beat. “We’re all a ticking time bomb, one way or another.”


    The air shifts. It’s the way he says it, like he’s already seen his own death.


    I shouldn’t care. But something unsettling takes root in my chest.


    I start to wonder what his childhood was like. I know his mother died when he was very young and his father was a psychopath, but did his father ever love him? Did he feel an ounce of the affection I was never given as a child?


    And why do I suddenly feel sad?


    Fuck, Emilia. Stop it. Don’t humanize him. Focus on the important things. Like keeping your identity intact so he doesn’t chop you up into little pieces for his piggies to enjoy.


    I wonder if I’ll ever meet them. I bet they’re cute.


    A server approaches with the first course, interrupting my thoughts. When I pick up my fork and take a bite, Konstantin watches me intensely, like his life depends on it.


    “It’s really good.”


    Heughs, the sound like a mixture of whiskey and a slow-burning fire, warming me from the inside. “You sound surprised.”


    I shrug. “I’m a simple girl. I’ve never done fancy.”


    Because I couldn’t afford a simple meal growing up, let alone one like this.


    “If you’d prefer something less ornate, I can make that happen next time.”


    “Next time? You n on taking me out for lunch on a regr basis?”


    His mouth thins, but he doesn’t answer me as he starts to eat. Watching him, I wonder what he wants from me exactly.


    Is this just about sex? Probably.


    ording to everything I’ve found on him, he’s never had a girlfriend. Not one. Which is strange, considering the women in his world wouldn’t bat an eye at what he does for a living.


    As we finish our first course, the second is brought out.


    I won’t lie, I could get used to this. When I pop a piece of tender steak into my mouth, I practically moan, and his features grow with satisfaction.


    “I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself, Ms. Monroe.”


    As I’m about to respond, a woman’s heels click against the stone terrace, blue eyes staring right at Konstantin, not trying to hide how much she likes him.


    She’s tall. Elegant. Blonde. Exactly the kind of woman I’d picture him with.


    You don’t stand a chance.


    I don’t want a chance.


    Liar.


    The diamonds on her wrist sparkle when they catch the light, her attention zeroed in on him. But he doesn’t notice her. Not at first.


    Not until he nces at me and catches the flicker in my gaze.


    My throat tightens as his eyes remain on hers, and I start ying images of them together and I hate every damn second of it. I don’t care who he’s slept with or flirted with or whispered dirty things to in Russian.


    I don’t.


    But when her eyes drop to his mouth for a beat too long, it feels like a knife twisting in my stomach, and I stab my fork into the next bite like it insulted me.


    “Konstantin,” she purrs, like he’s her pet. “I thought that was you.”


    He sets his winess down with deliberate calm. “Nadia.”


    His jaw tenses, while I start to wonder who she is and how many times he’s fucked her and where.


    She doesn’t spare me a nce, eyes devouring him instead. “It’s been too long. We should catch up.”


    “I’m in the middle of a date,” he says tly.


    That catches me off guard, my heart drumming faster.


    “A…date?” She blinks, like the words don’tpute.


    He gestures toward me with an outstretched palm, giving her a look that could melt steel. “Yes. Meet my girlfriend, Tessa.”


    Girlfriend…


    The word punches through me, and this sudden desire to be just thates out of nowhere.


    Her gaze cuts toward me, expression filled with thinly veiled disgust. “Oh.”


    “Hi there.” I arch a single brow.


    Nadia stiffens, her mouth snaking into what could be described as a smile…by some…before she flicks her attention to Konstantin.


    “I see. Well…I won’t keep you.” She flings her hair over her shoulder.


    “You already have.” His words cut, and she stiffens, tension creeping through her.


    She hikes up her chin. “I’ll see you around.”


    “Doubtful,” he replies without a shred of emotion. It almost feels like a threat.


    She’s visibly seething as she turns her back to us and starts away.


    When she’s gone, I set my fork down. “Was that your ex?”


    His mouth thins. “Far from it.”


    It’s none of your business.


    “Well, either way, I really think you need to stop calling me your girlfriend. People will start to believe it.”


    His expression darkens as he leans in. “It’s inevitable, Ms. Monroe. I’m just getting you used to the idea.”


    I let out a wryugh. “Look, if this is about sex…” My voice drops so the other tables don’t overhear. “Maybe we should just get it over with. That way you can be done with whatever interest you have in me.”


    “You think I just want to fuck you?” His lips curl as he leans in, close enough that every nerve in my body sparks to life. “Net, katyonak. Of course I want to see you on your knees—begging, crying because you can’t take another orgasm.”


    His hand grips mine, thumb drawing circles on my skin with rough tenderness. “But that’s not all this is. You’re the kind of woman I want to savor, Tessa. Slowly. Thoroughly. Again and again. Until you ache for it. Until you can’t breathe without it. Without me.”


    I swallow hard, wanting everything he just described.


    He’s dangerous. Arrogant. Criminal. Yet here I am being a whore for the enemy.


    My lips wind into a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I’d be the one begging.”


    Amusement flickers beneath the hunger breeding within his gaze.


    “Oh, you will. And when you do, you’ll say my name like it’s a prayer…or a curse. Either way, you’ll mean every fucking syble.”


    My pulse skips, hand gripping the ss a little too tight.


    This is exactly what I wanted, right? To make him want me, crave me. Until I’ve infiltrated every facet of his life.


    Except I wasn’t supposed to feel this out of control of my own body.


    “So, are you going to tell me who Nadia was?” I quickly change the subject, though the thought of that woman makes me want to punch something.


    He sighs, like he’d rather talk about anything else. “We slept together. Once. Years ago. Her family runs in my circles, and she thought there’d be wedding bells, but I’ve never been one to desire marriage and I told her so.”


    I’m surprised he gave me all of that. A man like Konstantin doesn’t strike me as the open-book kind of guy.


    “So you never n on getting married?”


    He shakes his head. “There’s no need.”


    “Me too.”


    His brow pops. “And why is that?”


    Iugh. “I need a reason, but you don’t?”


    “Fair enough.” The sides of his eyes crinkle with his genuine smile.


    “I’m sure your bed’s never empty, though. How many women are you sleeping with right now? One? Five?”


    The image shes through my mind: some faceless woman wrapped in his sheets,ughing at something he said, touching what I shouldn’t care about. But I do.


    He squeezes my hand. “Right now? I’m hoping it’ll be you. No strings, of course. For either of us.”


    My core tightens and I reach for my water, the cool ss the only thing keeping me grounded. I shouldn’t even be entertaining this. But it’s been so long. And that mouth… God help me, the things it did to me.


    “You feel it too.” He drags his thumb over my knuckles. “Don’t lie to me.”


    My throat dries. That voice could drag me straight to hell, and I’d beg him to take me deeper.


    If he hadn’t destroyed my brother’s life, would I want him? Could I actually fall for someone who kills without blinking, who rules with fear and violence?


    I don’t want to know the answer. But deep down in the darkest, most broken parts of me…I think I could. And that makes me just as twisted.


    “No.” It’s barely a whisper.


    His smile is murky and knowing. “You lie.”


    He lifts my hand, brushing a kiss against my knuckles. Myshes flutter from the sensation, from the warmth of his breath.


    “And I don’t like liars.”


    “Maybe you’re the one lying to yourself.” My gaze holds his, daring him.


    “I am,” he says, low and raw. “But not about this.”


    His words swim with a husky baritone, dripping with meaning that I don’t understand. What is he lying about?


    “You want me,” he goes on. “And I want you. That’s a fact. Denying it doesn’t make it any less true.”


    A part of me wants to run. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating in the most maddening way.


    He doesn’t just take up space. He owns it. And somehow, without touching me, he already owns this moment too.


    “How long’s it been?” His words are etched in unsatiable hunger.


    “What?”


    His mouth curves. “Since you were properly fucked.”


    Heat pulses straight to my core. My God, this isn’t fair.


    “That’s none of your business.” Ites out breathless instead of indignant, and I hate that.


    “Ah…” His eyes narrow. “So never.”


    He’s not wrong.


    “Shame.” He presses another kiss against my hand—soft, unhurried—and I feel it everywhere. “I could have you crying my name by dessert, if only you’d stop pretending you don’t want it.”


    I stare at him over the rim of my ss, refusing to let him see how deep he’s already gotten under my skin.


    “Think about it,” he adds, voice dipping to a gruff whisper.


    My fingers tighten around the ss.


    “Unless you’re afraid you’ll just keeping back for more.”


    I meet his stare and force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Don’t tter yourself, Mr. Marinov. You’re not that unforgettable.”


    Heughs,pletely unbothered. Like he already knows I’m lying.


    The worst part is, deep down, I know if I let him have those parts of me I’ve never let anyone else see, I’ll never want to walk away.


    And there’s noing back from that.