Chapter 5
DMITRI
I watch as Clara slips out the door. Her hair covers her face, but I know her cheeks are burning red beneath that cascade of darkness. I saw it on her face as she was coming entirely undone, felt it beneath my hands as she gave into me.
Pavel looks after her, too, then looks back at me, a brow raised in question.
But I don't answer. Instead, I watch as Clara gathers herself.
Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes deep breaths, her chin comes up, her shoulders square, and she flips her hair back before walking across the office floor as though nothing at all happened.
Her ability to gather herself is admirable. I can’t help but respect the grit she showed when others would’ve caved or made a hasty retreat. Few dare to stand up to me for long.
“Who was that?” Pavel asks, my last image of Clara disappearing as he closes the door firmly behind him.
I shrug, switching to Russian. “She is the new hire in the legal department.”
Again, his eyebrow arches, and he glances over his shoulder at the door, as though he can see her through it. “I expected some balding, middle-aged man. Not—” He indicates Clara with a jerk of his head.
I don't say anything. That’s answer enough.
Pavel laughs. It’s a rough, deep sound that’s more chilling than it is jovial. But I’ve known him all my life, and I know what that sound means. “I know you’re good, Dimitri, but I believe that’s record time. What was that? Fifteen, twenty minutes before you had her?”
“She and I have met before,” I say, returning to my seat behind my desk.
“Oh?” Pavel takes one of the guest chairs across from me, leaning his long, wiry frame back in a way no one else dares to in this office.
I nod but say nothing more. Pavel has known me long enough; he doesn't need anything else.
“Don't tell me she’s your mystery woman who stumbled into your suite when she was supposed to be somewhere else?”
I make a noncommittal noise in my throat.
“Are you serious?” Pavel presses. “You said she was wearing a blindfold, and it was over two months ago.”
“Oh, I’m certain. She recognized me with no problem. Immediately.”
“Really? And how did she do that, exactly? Did you whip it out the minute she stepped inside? Is that how you greet all your new hires?”
I give Pavel a dirty look, which only results in a gravelly chuckle. “You must have made quite an impression on her, although it sounds like she made quite the impression on you, too.”
He can say that again. I haven't been able to get Clara Benson out of my head since that night, no matter how much time has elapsed.
I wasn’t lying when I told Clara that the only curves I see are hers. I’ve taken other women to my bed since but found them unsatisfactory—an issue I haven't had in a very long time—and now I’ve stopped entirely, frustrated that none of them have been enough.
I knew it was her the instant she walked into my office, and it wasn't because of the recognition on her face.
I knew her body instinctively, memorized it during that passionate hour we spent together.
My mind retraced her curves over and over, remembering the way she felt under my hands, underneath me.
The scent of her perfume, the sound of her cries of pleasure, the slight smokiness to her voice.
I remember that long, dark, straight hair with the blunt-cut bangs that felt like silk as it slipped through my fingers.
I remember touching her heart-shaped face.
I can still taste those full lips; lips painted the color of a rich Bordeaux today.
And to see her eyes, a bronze-hazel color that seemed to draw in all the light in the room, was enough to hook me all over again.
My body craves her like it craves water, air, and food.
“You could say that,” is what I tell Pavel. He knows there’s more to it, but he also knows not to ask, for now. “I want a full background check on her.”
His expression turns to one of confusion. “There would have been one done before she joined the company.”
“Yes, but I want more than that. I want everything about her past, her present, who she dated, and what she ate last night. All of it.”
There’s a twitch at the corner of Pavel’s mouth. Not quite a smile but something resembling amusement. “Got you tangled up, doesn’t she?”
No, she’s got me entirely twisted, because I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind. And I can’t have that.
“It’s due diligence, Pavel. She came to me that night as a fluke, and I want to ensure it was just that—a fluke, that she wasn’t sent here to stir up trouble.”
“Or get information.” Pavel adds.
I nod.
Pavel watches me with his hands steepled over his stomach, green eyes contemplating me, until annoyance crops up as a twinge in my chest.
“What?”
“Is this Clara Benson going to become a distraction?”
“She isn’t a distraction; she’s a liability, and liabilities get people killed.” A distraction is a lost dollar. A liability is a bullet to the head. “This isn't a game of corporate law, Pavel. We both know what happens when the pakhan loses trust.”
That wipes the smirk from his face, and he clears his throat as he straightens in his chair. “On that note, we absolutely have a mole somewhere in the company.”
The lingering warmth from my run-in with Clara is doused instantly. “You’re sure?”
“Someone’s been talking to the cops. Our own mole is hearing rumors within law enforcement—they’re gathering what they need. We don’t know how much they have yet.”
“Any idea who it is?”
Pavel shakes his head. “Unfortunately, no. Not yet.”
I curse, the computer monitor and crystal paperweight jumping as I bring my fist down onto the desktop. “We have to find this traitor before the next Bratva council, before the others decide my seat is vulnerable."
“Dah,” Pavel agrees, because he knows it’s true. He knows just how much is at stake.
Fate must be playing games with me. Clara, of all people, shows up to work for me at the worst possible time, just as I’m battling an unknown and growing threat.
It’s the worst possible time to try to get Clara Benson, her curves, and those eyes out of my head.