Chapter 4
CLARA
Holy. Shit.
I step forward, about to say something—though I have no idea what—when my mystery man’s eyes flick to something beside me. I realize then that there are two other people in the room. I snap my mouth shut and do my best to pretend I’ve never met this man before.
“Mr. Smirnov, I’d like to introduce you to our newest member of the Smirnov Corporation’s legal team.
This is Clara Benson.” My boss gestures toward me with a wave of his hand, then to the man I know only as the one I had the best sex of my life with.
“Miss Benson, this is Dmitri Smirnov, president and CEO of the Smirnov Corporation.”
Dmitri Smirnov.
Dmitri, my boss’s boss, pushes himself away from the desk, uncrossing his arms as he extends a hand to me.
I stumble forward, barely managing to anchor myself before I meet him halfway, my hand slipping into his for a firm shake.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep the shiver that threatens to run through me at bay.
His hand is just like I remember from that night—large, warm, strong, and commanding.
“Ms. Benson, it's good to have you on our team. I’ve heard great things about you.”
That rich baritone finds its way to the marrow of my bones, and it is all I can do to remain outwardly calm and return his challenging gaze with a pleasant smile.
“Mr. Smirnov, it’s an honor to be working here.
I’m looking forward to doing great things for your company.
” The reply sounds inane to my ears. But then again, almost anything will, seeing as I know my new boss intimately.
Not only have I seen him entirely naked, but I’ve heard, felt, and possess deep knowledge of what it is like when he comes undone, just as he does me.
I feel my cheeks grow warm at the memory.
“What have you heard about me?” His tone is teasing, accompanied by a slightly amused curl of his mouth.
“Oh, well, let’s see.” I shrug, unwilling to give in to his fishing expedition.
“That you’re a billionaire, that you rebuilt the company from the ground up after your father retired, that your reputation in law and business circles is ruthless.
” I let the last word hang between us, injecting a subtle test.
“You seem very well-informed.” His eyes hold mine, and I see the challenge in them—a challenge I am entirely up to meeting.
“I consider it part of my job. Understanding my clients’ roles in the world and the world’s perception of them comes in handy when you’re facing an opponent.”
The light in Dmitri’s eyes grows curious, appraising, before turning mischievous again. “I see. So, you like to go deep, find every single weakness, and drive home until you get your desired result.”
I can’t help but choke, losing my reply between an intake of breath and the sudden, vivid recollection of what he is implying. I wave away his concern when he asks if I’m okay. I don't know whether to be annoyed or turned on when Dmitri himself doesn't even try to stifle his grin.
The PA who brought me to the office offers me a glass of water, which I gratefully accept.
We all sit for the meeting as I am introduced to my role expectations and company guidelines.
But I barely hear any of it. Instead, all I can do is concentrate on the fact that my mystery man is sitting across the table from me, so close I can smell the cologne that has haunted my dreams since that night two months ago.
His presence runs like currents of electricity under my skin, the physical knowledge of him taking up nearly all the space in my brain. The little bit that’s left is overcome by memories from that night—still so fresh it feels like days instead of months.
I am surprised and a little embarrassed when the meeting is over. I barely remember anything that was said, and all hopes of starting this job off on the right foot go out the window.
I stand up with the other two lawyers, and we all shake hands again before we leave. Halfway to the door, trailing behind the two men, my feet seem to stop of their own accord.
“Would you mind if I stay and ask Mr. Smirnov a few more questions about the business before I get started? I want to make sure I have everything in line before I begin.”
John, my boss, turns back and looks at Dmitri. From the corner of my eye, I see Dmitri nod his acceptance. John smiles and gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Hard worker, this one. I can already tell.”
From behind me, I hear a low chuckle, a tacit agreement that probably has nothing to do with my office work. My assumption is confirmed when he adds, enthusiastically, “I’m sure.”
I heave a sigh of relief when the door closes, without John or my coworker looking back to see the bright flush on my cheeks.
I wait a moment before I turn on my heel and face the man who gave me the wildest night of my life.
“Did you hire me because you knew who I was?” I demand in a loud whisper.
Those expressive, heavy brows lift in faint surprise. “I don’t know if you remember, but we did not exchange names or information, nor was I given an image with your resume. All I knew was that you seemed like a damn good lawyer and someone who would benefit my legal team.”
Dmitri, Mr. Smirnov—I don't even know what to call him in my head—is resting back against the desk with his arms crossed over his chest once more, his expression intent.
Those ice-blue eyes bore holes into me until I feel entirely exposed.
My new boss knows entirely too much about me.
Not only has he seen my resume and my CV, but he also knows what buttons to push to make me scream and writhe in pleasure.
I decide to cross my arms, too, and glare at him. “You tricked me. You knew I was lost and in the wrong room, yet you still invited me in and played along.”
Another curve of his lips augments that faint surprise into the barest hint of an amused smile.
He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he straightens to his full height, which, without the blindfold, seems so much taller.
I’m not exactly short, more on the average side, but he still towers over me as he saunters across the room, his hands in the pockets of his heather-gray slacks.
Mr. Smirnov is enjoying this.
His smirk grows as he stops mere inches from me, the scent of his cologne all-enveloping. His closeness makes my knees feel weak, as though it is some kind of Pavlovian response.
“Might I remind you that I told you the truth and gave you an out before things got too far?” He doesn’t deny my accusation, but he doesn’t own it either, dancing around the subject like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
In fact, we both know exactly what he’s doing, especially when he leans forward, his mouth close to my ear, and murmurs, “You were mine the second I opened that door.”
Biting my cheek doesn’t keep me from shivering this time. I shudder at the whisper of his breath across my ear, as the meaning sinks beneath my skin.
“I don’t belong to anybody,” I hiss, pulling back and meeting his eyes. “No one has power over me.”
“And yet, you remained that night. Even now, by the way you are trying so desperately not to look at me—and failing, by the way—and from the color in your cheeks, I’d say that isn’t true, is it, Miss Benson?”
My name on his lips, said in that low rumble and Russian accent, is like a caress. I close my eyes, trying to block him out, along with the sensations he evokes in me.
“We had one night together,” I say through tightly clenched teeth. “That’s it. It was fun for you, and it was fun for me. I’m not going to deny it.” I open my eyes, my self-assurance renewed. “But that’s all. As I said, no one has power over me.”
He watches me with an amused spark in his eyes, and I know I have to leave before something happens that I will deeply regret.
I take a step away from him. “Well, Mr. Smirnov, it was a pleasure to meet you this morning, and I look forward to working for you in a legal capacity. I know I will be a good fit for this company.”
His predatory smile grows. “Indeed. I believe we’ve already tested that, have we not? I think you fit rather well.” His inappropriate suggestion outrages me as much as it turns me on.
“This might be a game to you,” I snap, “but it’s not to me. Men like you only want to play with women.”
The words come out as another hiss; any professional capacity is lost in the hurt that swells from memories and scars that have barely begun to heal.
The change in him is swift. The smile disappears, replaced by a coldness that startles me into taking another step back. But Dmitri’s hand shoots out and grabs my arm, his grip like a vice, and I can’t move.
“Don’t you ever say that to me again.” His voice is like steel, his words dripping with ice and warning. “Do you have any idea how many women throw themselves at me? I could have any one of them. But the only curves I see when I close my eyes are yours.”
The last words are spoken softer, and I swear I hear an edge of reverence that throws me entirely off my game.
“What?” I manage. “That’s not true.”
There is no way this man has thought about me even half as much as I’ve thought about him, except he won’t let me brush it off. He won't let me look away from those ice-blue eyes, pinning me with that stare until I can't help but believe him.
He backs me up until the conference table is digging into my hip, and I can’t go any further.
His hand slips down my side and down my slacks until he is cupping the softness between my legs.
Just like that night, he has me instantly.
His finger slips past my panties, but not inside me.
I can only hang on, digging my fingers into his arm and grasping at the fabric of his shirt as he teases me until my entire body is flushed and my breath is coming in short gasps.
His other hand runs over the curves he professed he couldn’t stop thinking about. I still can't tell whether he is being sincere, or if he’s playing with me, and I hate that I am so lost in my lust that I can't tell the difference or force myself to pull away.
He is playing me like a fiddle again, and I can already feel that edge rushing toward me.
It’s as though he learned all my secret places in that single hour we spent together.
My whole body tightens, and I’m desperately biting the inside of my cheek to remain silent when there is a sharp knock at the door.
Dmitri pulls back instantly, and I hurry to right myself, entirely aware I am still furiously flushed as the door opens. I don't even see who it is before I blurt, “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Smirnov. I am looking forward to working with you.”
I rush past whoever it was that came in, my head down, my cheeks hot, and my body still burning for the man in the office behind me.