Chapter 4David
4
David
M y eyes train on her as soon as she enters my office. Her presence not only captures my attention. It demands it.
I stand and button my blazer, walking around the desk to meet her in the center of the room. She smells like something floral, sweet and bright like spring. My lungs expand to draw it in.
My eyes drift over her, and I try to keep my instant attraction under control. She’s alluring without trying, and it’s lucky for me she doesn’t seem to notice the powerful affect she has on me. If she knew how much she excites me, I’d be in trouble already.
She’s at least a head shorter than me, with deep brown eyes that peer up at me with a sense of daring and brave curiosity. She’s not just some random person. I see that now, but I’m curious what her intentions are. It’s dangerous for a woman like her to get anywhere close to the Bratva.
Her chestnut hair tumbles in silky waves over her shoulders and back. She’s wearing a pencil line tight black skirt that enhances her sleek curves. For a moment I allow myself to imagine my hands mapping out her hips, my fingers tracing the dip of her waist.
I glance at my security guard, Nero. “Leave us.”
He gives me a curt bow and steps from the room, closing the door behind him.
She tosses a nervous glance over her shoulder before returning her gaze to me. Her bravado plunders slightly.
“Don’t worry, I’m unarmed here.” I unbutton my blazer and lift the sides to show her.
What she doesn’t know is that my gun is in the top drawer of my desk, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her in this situation. Everything around me is an illusion, anyway. Nothing is real but death.
She releases a deep breath, but her shoulders don’t relax. “David Petrov. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person under different circumstances this time.”
A wry grin stretches across my mouth. “And Hazel Dowers, as I’ve been told. It’s also nice to meet with you in a less chaotic environment. Thank you for your discretion up to this point.”
She shrugs. “They were thugs who started a gun fight, and I have no idea whose bullets belonged to whom.”
I wag my finger at her. “You’re clever. I like it.”
Her eyes scroll over me briefly, taking me in, assessing how big of a threat I might be to her. I must give her credit, she masks her intimidation well, but there’s still a trace of it outlining the dark brown rim of her eyes.
“Yes, I’d say so.” She politely dips her head. “Thank you.”
I step to the side and gesture to the empty chair by my desk. “Please, sit.”
She does as I ask.
“Can I have my assistant bring you anything? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
She hesitates, but I see in her eyes that she’s too worn out to deny herself a drink. “Coffee would be great.”
I press a button on my desk phone. “Sonya? Would you bring two coffees in here please?”
“Cream and sugar,” Hazel adds, leaning forward.
“Cream and sugar,” I echo into the receiver.
Sonya promises to bring them shortly.
I practically salivate as I watch Hazel cross her legs. Her skirt lifts a little, revealing more thigh. So pale. So soft. I stare at the bonus skin while she reaches for something in her purse. She pulls out her phone.
Her face is poised as she speaks. “Do you mind if I record our conversation today?”
She’s amusing me already. I arch an eyebrow. “Getting down to business just like that?”
Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. Her lashes are thick and sexy. We stare at each other a moment, unspeaking, sizing each other up. “Maybe I should start by saying how grateful I am that you saved my life the other day.”
I nod once. “That would be a good start.”
Humor flints in her eyes. She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable. “Humble isn’t your finest quality, is it?”
I offer a shrug. “I prefer my finer traits to be about getting ahead and staying on top. Call it a survival tactic if you will.”
“And what exactly are you trying to get ahead of?” she asks.
My eyes skate to her phone in her lap and when she catches me looking at it, she crosses her other leg and says, “don’t worry, I’m not recording unless you give me consent.”
There’s a consent I want from her, but it has nothing to do with conducting a meeting like this. There’s a dent in her thigh from the muscle tone, and it runs up her leg like a carving. I force my eyes to look away.
When I meet her gaze, she’s studying me. She keeps catching me in the act when I steal too long glances at her. I take a deep breath and clear my throat, grabbing a pen off my desk. I click it repeatedly.
“Do I make you nervous?” Her brows arch as if she’s surprised at this new development.
Only because you make me horny, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut on that front.
Our conversation is briefly interrupted by Sonya scurrying into the office carrying two piping hot Styrofoam cups of coffee.
She sets one on my desk and hands the other to Hazel, who thanks her, and cups it with two hands before blowing on it. I watch her mouth as it curves into an oval shape. A low, pulsing throb begins to ache between my legs. Everything this woman is doing is sensual and turning me on, and she’s not even trying. It’s frustrating me.
The second Sonya is gone, I look at Hazel. “Do I make you nervous?” I boomerang her question back to her to distract myself from those sexy, red painted lips. I want those lipstick stains all over my mouth, my jaw, peppering down my neck.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and casts her gaze to her lap. Her thick lashes flutter as she blinks.
“I’m just trying to do my job,” she recites to her folded hands resting in her lap.
“And what exactly does that job entail?” I wonder.
She lifts her head. “I’m a journalist.”
“Ah.” I nod.
“I take it you’re not a big fan of journalists?” She quizzes.
“Indifferent, I suppose. Unless they are spying inside my warehouses looking for trouble.” I give her a knowing look.
A hint of a smile tugs at her lips. If she can sense that I’m trying to flirt with her, she doesn’t prevent me from doing it. Part of me wonders if she’s permitting it because she’s trying to appeal to me to get what she wants. I’ve seen these games before. I know how to play the pawns.
“Are you involved in the illegal weapons trade that has been tainting this city?”
I lean back in my chair and swivel back and forth. “That’s an awfully presumptuous question to ask.”
She shrugs as if my question rolls right off her back. “I’m just trying to get the facts.”
“You’re certainly recovered from your little scare,” I note.
“Yes well,” she shifts her weight. I watch her bottom lift slightly off the chair as she does it. My pulse hammers. I notice a slight edge to her tone. “I can’t dwell on it. I have to move on.”
“I admire your strength,” I say and mean it.
She drops her phone back into her purse and looks at me with a hardness in her professional features. She’s growing impatient.
I give her my most charming smile but she doesn’t buy it. She’s not only attractive, but feisty too. I can only imagine how hot it would be to bend her over this desk, push up her skirt, rip down her panties, open her legs and fuck her right here, right now.
I keep all these thoughts locked away in the vault of my brain with all my other secrets. There’s no point in causing her any more alarm. It won’t get either of us anywhere.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she reminds me, her lips pursing as she stares at me.
“That’s because I’m offended by your question,” I reply, shaking my head.
“So, you’re not part of the illegal weapons trade?” she asks.
“Did I not just rescue you from a mission of the very sort?” I smirk.
Her jaw twitches. Her lips are beautiful. I want them wrapped around my cock as soon as possible. I lean forward. “I’ll make a deal with you, Hazel Dowers, journalist for the…”
“Freelance at this time,” she says quickly, and I see the lie written on her face.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me who you work for, but you do need to meet me in the middle if you want me to help you.”
“I’m listening,” she says in a guarded vice.
I toss an idea at her. “You’re conducting research for your story, yes? I assume that’s why you were at the warehouse that day. I’d love to clear my name, and I think you are just the person who can help me do that.”
She scoffs, unable to hide the cynicism on her face. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really.” I give her a boastful look because I know I’m enticing her. “You want your story, I want my reputation. So, let’s work together. I’ll allow you to shadow me as long as you keep your story anonymous.”
“Meaning what?” Her eyes narrow, but I have her on the line. Now it’s time to reel her in.
I hold her gaze. “Leave my name out of it. If you want to actually make a difference to end the gun trafficking cycle, then stick with me. I’ll help you get what you want, and you help me get what I want.”
“And what exactly is that?” she asks.
I stare at her, unblinking, stoic. “An end to the gun trade.”
She chews her bottom lip again and I can practically see the thoughts turning in her head.
“You can follow me around, see what I do.” I stand up and she watches me like a hawk as I come around the desk and sit on it directly in front of her. Her slender legs tense. She doesn’t uncross them. I hear her breath in slowly. The air is thick with tension… Is it sexual? It’s hard to tell yet, but I’m provoking her in some way, and I feel it in the charged energy between us.
“I can tell you one thing for certain,” I say.
“What’s that?” She’s breathless.
“We’re on the same side, you and me.” I stare at her.
“Oh?” Her face flushes. Her chest moves faster with each breath.
I stand and offer a hand to shake. She takes it, confusion tugging her lips into a frown. Her hand is warm and soft, slender fingers, a good, firm grip.
“Think about it. I believe we will make an excellent team,” I add.
“I have to leave your name out of it?” she asks.
“You have to leave my name out of it,” I confirm with a thin smile.
“The public might know it’s you. It’s an even greater chance that law enforcement will, if they read it.”
Is that a veiled threat she’s giving me? I keep my poker face in check. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means putting an end to gun trafficking in this city. I don’t like it just as much as you or anyone else.”
She eyes me, a journalist hunger in her eyes, along with a slice of doubt of what I’m telling her.
But there’s something else shifting in her expression, too. Is it desire? Lust? Blood rushes through my ears as I wait to see whether she’ll agree to my conditions.
She’s smart, I can see that. I’ve only just met her. I know she’ll make the right choice.