Chapter 10
GABBY
Hours later…
The office is quieter than usual—the late-afternoon lull, when everyone’s checked out and ready to go but no one wants to risk getting caught as the first one out the door.
The air hums with soft keystrokes and the occasional low whir of the printer, and I’m still buzzed off the residual adrenaline from the assassination attempt.
I haven’t seen Sasha since my near-death experience. He’d texted me, telling me he’d see me later and that’s it. Truth be told, I’m not sure whether I want to see him or not. Part of me is a little pissed that I’m now evidently part of whatever insane world he occupies.
Not to mention, all I’ve wanted to do all day is finish the damn merger proposal, and it’s finally ready.
I’m standing in front of one of the printers, eagerly watching it spit out each individual page. It’s glorious. Two months of hard work finally ready for me to hold in my hands and set proudly on Sasha’s desk.
As I watch it print, something occurs to me. Is this the reason I was almost killed? Does someone not want this merger to happen?
There’s a metric assload of money at stake here, and if something were to happen to me, everything would get pushed back at least a couple of months. That’d be more than enough time for someone to make moves that would break up the merger before it happened.
What the hell am I in the middle of?
When the merger draft is done printing, I head over to the workstation and load it all into a dark red binder. Normally, this would all be done digitally. But not with Sasha. He likes things he can hold, touch, feel.
Like me.
The thought sends a rush of heat through me. I’m not ungrateful for it—anything other than feeling fear for my life is welcome at this point.
I take one more long look at the binder in my hands and allow myself a quick proud smile before heading in the direction of Sasha’s office.
I head for the tall glass doors at the far end of the hall and weave my way through the crowds of employees making their way out for the day.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch my reflection.
Thank God I had the foresight to store a spare work outfit in my desk—I can’t imagine presenting Sasha with this thing in my dirty sweatshirt and dingy jeans.
I’m not nervous as I approach. A small eager smile forms on my lips, and for the first time in a long time, I feel excited.
I feel ready.
The elevator dings as I pass, and a woman steps out.
I know who she is. She’s impossible to miss—red hair like molten metal, a dress of emerald silk that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, Louboutins on her feet, the red sole flashing with each step, reminding me of blood: Ruth O’Donnell.
Everyone at AngelCorp knows her name. She’s the owner of O’Donnell Shipping, an import/export empire with deep docks and even deeper ties to the Irish mob, if the rumors are to be believed. Her father’s crew ran guns and drugs back in the nineties before going “legit.”
She moves through the space like it’s a catwalk. Normally, she blows past me like I don’t even exist. But not today. Today, her sharp eyes land on me.
This is new. She’s never noticed me before. Why now? Why today?
“You,” she says, pausing like she’s trying to place me. Her smile widens, too perfect and toothy to be sincere. “You must be new.”
“I’m not,” I reply lightly, my tone inoffensive and just a little sweet. “Been here three years.”
“Well, he does like them young these days, doesn’t he?” Her gaze skims my outfit, from my blouse to my heels. I can feel her eyes linger on my body, my curves. “Not to mention full-figured.”
A thought occurs to me in that moment—does she know? Is that why she’s paying attention to me? I push that aside, offering her an over-the-top sweet smile, one that’s all teeth.
“He likes them good at their job. And see what happens if you make another comment about my body.”
For a half second, I catch it—a flicker of irritation tightening her jaw. She’s not used to being spoken to like that, I can tell.
She narrows her eyes, and for a brief moment I’m convinced she’s going to rip me apart. “Gabriella, is it? You’re his little finance assistant. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“All good things, I hope.”
“Well,” she says, her voice low, almost intimate, “he’s been giving you quite a bit of responsibility these days, from what I hear. Let’s hope his trust in you isn’t misplaced. Sasha, as you know, doesn’t keep those who disappoint him around.”
I let out a small laugh. “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’m tougher than I look.”
Another snort. “I doubt it.” She steps closer, her heady, floral perfume wrapping around me like a living vine. “You know, he goes through women like candy. They always think they mean more to him than they actually do. It’s tragic, really. They never seem to understand the kind of man he is.”
My pulse ticks up, but I don’t move. What does she know about me? How does she know so much about me? Does she think I’m just his assistant? Does she know I’m more?
“And you don’t seem to understand what manners are.”
Her eyes flash with pure, righteous indignation. She narrows her eyes into angry little slits, then opens her mouth.
Just then, the glass doors to Sasha’s office open, and he strides out.
His suit is dark, his movements slow and deliberate, like the entire world runs on his time.
He takes in the scene with those dark eyes, his gaze sweeping over both of us.
The temperature of the hall seems to drop about ten degrees in those seconds.
“Ruth,” he says smoothly. His voice carries his usual quiet authority. “You’re early.”
Ruth smiles—too sweetly. “I just couldn’t wait to see you,” she purrs.
She steps over to him, placing her French-nail-tipped hand on his arm. He doesn’t even look at it.
“Let’s discuss business in my office. My staff is busy enough without you demanding their time.”
“Fair enough. I don’t want to be a distraction.”
His gaze flicks to me. The message he transmits without words is brief, almost unreadable. I can’t quite tell if it’s stay out of it or don’t back down.
I want to say something about how rude Ruth was, but I check myself. Tattling wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good. The air crackles. For a moment, I wonder if she’s going to try ripping into me again. But she doesn’t, thankfully. Instead, she turns on her Louboutins and heads into Sasha’s office.
“Lovely speaking with you, Gabriella.”
Sasha grabs the door as it shuts, giving me one more strange look before stepping inside. Then the office doors close, and I’m alone. My pulse is still racing. I hate that I was so shaken by her.
I glance down at the proposal in my hands. I’d been all ready to turn it in, eager to plop this thing on Sasha’s desk and let him know it was ready for review.
One more glance at my binder, and I realize now’s not the time. Ruth’s got his full attention, and the proposal’s just going to have to wait. With a sigh, I start back to my desk.
Once I’m back at my desk, I drop the binder and plop into my chair.
I feel strangely defeated, like my moment has been stolen from me.
My jaw tightens. I turn to my screen, trying to busy myself with emails, but it doesn’t work.
I find myself craning my neck to see down the hall, catching the faint shadows of Sasha and Ruth through the frosted glass.
It’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on, but they’re close—too close.
A hot pulse of jealousy rises before I can shove it down.
This is ridiculous, I try to tell myself. I may be having his baby, but I’m not his girlfriend. We haven’t done anything together since that night. Do I have a right to be jealous that some Irish bombshell strolled in here and immediately started putting the moves on him?
I try to push it all aside, but it doesn’t work. The thought of her in there with him—touching his arm, leaning in, flashing him that smile of ruby-red lips and teeth as white as the pearls of her necklace—it makes my stomach twist.
I stand up and pace. The proposal sits pristine on my desk, the culmination of every little drop of hard work I’ve done since this nightmare started. He should see it. He needs to see it. He needs to see how hard I’ve fought for this company, for him, for both of us.
It’s not jealousy, I tell myself. It’s professional integrity. It’s about showing him what I’m capable of.
Screw it.
I grab the binder off the desk and start back down the hall. Where I was nervous before, now I’m totally full of determination. I don’t bother with subtlety when I’m at his office doors—one knock, hard enough to slice through Ruth’s laugh on the other side.
A beat of silence. Then Sasha’s voice, low and firm. “Come in.”
I take a slow, deep breath, holding the dark red binder like a shield with one arm as I pull the door open with the other.
The first thing I see is Ruth on his desk, perched on the corner, like she’s starring in a perfume ad. Her emerald silk dress hugs every curve, her red lips are gleaming, and one leg is crossed over the other in a way that shows a totally NSFW amount of thigh.
She flicks her eyes to me and her smile fades, her expression turning to one of total disdain, like I’m here to interview for a job, and it took her exactly one second to determine I’m not the right fit for the role.
I pull my eyes away from her and focus on Sasha.
He’s standing behind his desk, jacket off, his sleeves rolled to the elbows.
The veins on those ropy forearms catch the light just right, and I hate that I notice.
He looks composed, powerful, and a little unreadable.
In that moment, he’s every bit the man who drives me insane and turns me on every single day.
He doesn’t say anything—it’s up to me to explain why the hell I practically busted into his office in the middle of a meeting with one of the most powerful women in Chicago.
This better be good, his expression seems to say.
It is.
I clear my throat. “I’ve finished the proposal,” I say, crisp and professional. “It’s ready for your review, Mr. Orlov.”
Ruth tilts her head, her green eyes sparkling with fake sweetness. “Oh, so you’re the one handling the merger. How brave of you, Sasha—putting the future of the company in the hands of a girl who looks like she should be preparing for sorority rush.”
My jaw tightens so hard, it aches.
“Ruth.” Sasha wields the name like a knife. His tone is hard, cutting. Ruth obeys, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes. “I demand professionalism in my office. And yes, Gabriella has been leading the initiative. And she delivers results.”
Ruth clears her throat and shifts where she sits. She suddenly looks a hell of a lot more awkward perched on the corner of the desk, like a wannabe seductress. Her hands move over her lap, smoothing out wrinkles that aren’t there.
“Of course, she does,” she says. “You wouldn’t stand for less.”
I swallow the half-dozen things I want to say—none of them HR-approved—and hand Sasha the folder. Our fingers brush, and there’s a quick and electric rush of something I can’t quite name.
But I like it. A lot.
He glances down at the folder in his hands, bobs it up and down, as if getting a sense of how much it weighs. Then he lifts those obsidian slits to my eyes, and I’m locked in his gaze.
“Excellent,” he says. “We’ll discuss this after my meeting with Ms. O’Donnell.”
“Understood.”
Ruth flashes me a smug little look, as if to say that’s right—it’s me first. “She’s very efficient,” she says. “I’ll give her that.”
Sasha doesn’t break his gaze from mine. “That’ll be all, Ms. Resse.”
“Thank you.”
I slip out of the office and let out a whoosh of air as soon as the door’s shut behind me. I press my palms flat against my thighs until my hands stop sweating, then start back to my desk. The other employees I passed on the way to the office give me furtive little looks as I move past them.
Once I’m back at my desk, I practically collapse into my seat. The city’s glowing beyond the windows to my left, bright and calm.
For a second there, I’d managed to forget I’d almost gotten killed earlier today. Not to mention, I’ve been uprooted from my home, put under watch, and pushed to my limit.
But I’m still here. Still standing. And I might’ve just turned in my magnum opus.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the sight of the two silhouettes in Sasha’s office. Too close for my comfort. What the hell is she doing in there?
And is Sasha going for it?
I push that out of my head. Right now, the only things that matter are my baby and my work. That’s it. Whatever Sasha wants to do in his personal life is none of my business.
I open my laptop again, going back to those emails, trying to forget the turmoil my life is in.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the black of the screen before the laptop boots up.
I look tired, wired, a little wild. The version of me that walked into this job three years ago wouldn’t recognize the woman staring back.
I crack my knuckles and get to work. I whisper something under my breath as I do, too quiet for anyone to hear. It’s half challenge, half promise.
“Go ahead. Underestimate me again. I dare you.”