Chapter 7
Katrina
Imade it back to my room without running into anyone, which felt like a minor miracle.
The staff wing was busy with the morning routines—showers running, coffee brewing, the low hum of conversation.
Normal. Like I hadn't just spent the night in my boss's bed having the best orgasms of my life.
I locked my door and leaned against it, the new phone heavy in my hand.
‘Only I have the number.’
I should throw it away. Should maintain boundaries.
Should remember that this was just an arrangement with an expiration date.
Instead, I plugged it in to charge and got in the shower.
The hot water felt amazing on my sore muscles.
I hadn't realized how tense I'd been carrying myself until Olek made me unravel.
Now I felt loose, liquid, like I might melt right down the drain.
I washed my hair, shaved my legs—something I hadn't bothered with in months—and took my time with the lotion after.
Vanilla scented, because apparently I was already thinking about the next time his mouth would be on my skin.
Jesus. One night and I was already a mess.
The new phone buzzed while I was getting dressed.
Unknown number
Sleep well?
My heart kicked. I saved the number as "O" and texted back.
O
Better without your elbow in my ribs.
You sprawled across 75% of the bed. I had six inches of mattress.
Should've gotten a bigger bed.
Should've kept you pinned under me.
Heat flooded my face, and a thumping sensation began in my mound that made me squeeze my thighs together.
Don't you have work to do?
Ignoring Mikhail while I think about how you taste. Much more interesting.
I sat down hard on my bed.
Stop saying things like that.
Why? It's true. Already planning what I'm going to do to you tonight.
Confident.
Hungry. Wear the black dress again. I didn't get to take it off properly.
Before I could respond, another text came through.
And Katrina? No underwear.
Oh, my God.
I stared at the message, my pulse racing. He couldn't be serious. I had to work today. Lead the staff. Walk around his house with nothing underneath my clothes while he watched and waited and—The phone buzzed again.
That's an order, not a suggestion.
Bastard. But I was smiling when I put the phone down.
The day crawled by with excruciating slowness. I threw myself into work taking inventory in the wine cellar, reorganizing the linen closet, supervising the deep clean of the formal dining room. Anything to keep my mind off tonight.
It didn't work.
Every time I bent over, I thought about his hands on my hips. Every time I climbed a ladder, I imagined him watching. Every time I passed his study, I remembered the way he'd looked at me in the pantry like I was something he wanted to devour.
"Katrina?" Elena touched my arm. "You okay? You've been staring at that shelf for five minutes."
I blinked. "I'm fine. Just thinking."
"About?" She grinned. "You seem distracted today. The good distracted, though. You're actually smiling."
Am I?
"Just slept well," I said, which wasn't a complete lie.
"Must've been some sleep." She grabbed her cleaning supplies. "Mr. Sidorov's been in a good mood too. Mikhail said he's never seen him so relaxed."
My stomach flipped. "That's nice."
"Yeah. Weird, but nice." She headed for the stairs. "Maybe he finally got laid or something."
I nearly choked on my coffee. Elena didn't notice, already halfway down the hall, humming something off-key. I had to be more careful. I didn’t want anybody around here finding out what we were up to.
The afternoon dragged even worse. I checked my phone obsessively, even though Olek hadn't texted again. Tried on the black dress three times to make sure it looked right. Debated the underwear situation for a full twenty minutes before remembering he'd said it was an order.
Fine. No underwear. I could do this. I was a grown woman. I'd survived worse things than going commando in my boss's house while he—The phone buzzed.
O
My study. 6 PM. We're having dinner.
Dinner?
I do occasionally eat food.
Together?
That's what dinner usually involves. Don't be late.
I stared at the message. Dinner. He wanted to have actual dinner with me, not just—this wasn't part of the contract.
Why?
Because I want to.
That's not an answer.
It's the only one you're getting. 6 PM, Katrina. Wear the dress.
I showed up at 5:58 PM because I was always punctual. The study door was open. Olek stood by the window, this time in dark jeans and a black henley that made him look less like a mob boss and more like something out of a cologne ad. He turned when I entered, and his eyes went dark.
"Jesus Christ."
"What?"
"That dress." He moved toward me. "Come here."
I stayed put. "You said dinner."
"I did." He kept coming until he was right in front of me. "But first I need to confirm something."
His hand slid up my thigh, under the hem of the dress.
"Good girl," he murmured, finding nothing but bare skin. "You followed orders."
"You said it wasn't a suggestion."
"I did." His fingers traced higher, teasing. "And you obeyed so perfectly."
I grabbed his wrist. "You said dinner."
"I'm having an appetizer." But he withdrew his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth. "Fuck. You're already wet."
"Stop that."
"Stop being turned on by you, or stop noticing that you're turned on by me?"
"Both."
He laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward a small table I hadn't noticed before. It was set for two—actual china, silverware, wine glasses. A covered dish sat in the center, smelling incredible.
"You cooked?" I asked, surprised.
"Shocked?"
"A little."
"I'm full of surprises." He pulled out my chair. "Sit."
I sat hyperaware of my bare skin against the leather chair. Of the way, Olek's eyes tracked my every movement as he took his own seat across from me.
He uncovered the dish—chicken in some kind of cream sauce, vegetables, pasta.
"This looks amazing," I admitted.
"Family recipe." He served me first, then himself. "My mother insisted that all her sons know how to cook. Said we shouldn't rely on women to feed us."
"Smart woman."
"She was." Something sad flickered in his expression. "Died when I was sixteen."
"I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "Long time ago." He poured wine—red, expensive-looking. "Eat."
I took a bite and nearly moaned. It was incredible—rich and savory and perfectly seasoned.
"Good?" he asked, watching me.
"Really good." I took another bite.
"When I took over the Bratva at twenty-three, I was living on takeout and vodka.
Mikhail staged an intervention." He sipped his wine.
"Said if I was going to lead, I needed to take care of myself. Starting with actual food. Those cooking skills my mom taught me kicked in and I’ve never turned back. "
"Mikhail seems like a good friend."
"He's my brother in everything but blood." Olek cut into his chicken. "Known him since we were kids. He's the only person I trust completely."
"That must be nice," I said quietly. "Having someone like that."
"You have your sister."
"I do. But it's not the same." I pushed pasta around my plate. "I'm supposed to protect her. I can't be weak with her."
"Being vulnerable isn't a weakness."
"Says the man who probably hasn't cried since he was ten." I teased.
"Sixteen, actually. When my mother died." He refilled my wine. "And you're changing the subject."
I cringed, wishing that I could take that back. "There's no subject. We're having dinner."
"We're getting to know each other."
I set down my fork. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are we doing this? The dinner, the conversation. Why not just—" I gestured vaguely, "—stick to the contract?"
Olek was quiet for a moment, studying me over his wineglass.
"Because," he said finally, "I don't want to just fuck you, Katrina. I want to know you."
My heart stuttered. "That's not part of the deal."
"Then consider it a bonus." He stood and came around the table, leaning against it beside me. "I want to know what makes you laugh. What are you afraid of besides your ex? What you dream about when you let yourself dream?"
"Why?"
"Because you're fascinating." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Because you're the first woman in years who's made me feel anything other than bored. Because—" He paused. "—because I think you need someone to actually see you. Not the mask you wear. The real you."
I couldn't breathe.
"Olek—"
"And knowing the real you makes things even better between us. I want inside your mind so I can own it too.” He added. “Finish your dinner," he said smugly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to me. "Then I'm going to take you to bed and make you forget every reason this is a bad idea."
He went back to his seat, but the air between us felt charged now. Electric.
Had I made a mistake by signing this agreement?
Sex could be just sex. I was capable of detaching that way.
Yes, it was a bonus that he was skilled with his mouth and that he could get me off.
However, I didn’t want to complicate things unnecessarily.
I finished eating in silence, acutely aware of his eyes on me.
Of the promise implicit in every glance.
When I was done, he stood and offered his hand.
"Ready?"
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
I took his hand. And let him lead me to his bedroom so we could do what I’d agreed to. The part of us that was safe. Not that conversational piece that he’d been trying for before. Now we could get to business.
The bedroom was different tonight. Candles flickered on the nightstands, casting warm shadows across the walls. The curtains were drawn, making it feel intimate. Private.
Like this was more than just sex.
"You went all out," I said, trying to keep my voice light.
"I told you. I want this to be good for you." He closed the door behind us and turned the lock. The click echoed in the quiet room. "Not just physical. All of it."