Chapter 26
AMARA
Medium Americano.
Splash of cream.
No sugar.
Hot enough to burn my hand.
I could recite it in my sleep. I have made it in my dreams. But this isn’t a dream. My hand really is on fire as I hold the mug waiting for Ransome to walk through the door. And when he finally does, he stops.
His shoulders tense. His jaw clenches. Unclenches again.
And the smallest hint of a smirk crawls across his lips.
“Good morning, Mr. Rozanov.” My voice comes out like velvet. It’s completely inappropriate and unprofessional. And completely on purpose.
“Good morning, krasivyy,” he says, standing right in front of me. Over me.
“That’s a new one.” I smile up at him. “What’s it mean?”
“Why don’t you look it up?” he asks, a full smirk on his lips now.
“I would, but I don’t have a lot of free time.”
“Oh?” He takes the coffee and sets it on his desk before turning back to me.
“My boss is a little bit… demanding.” I turn from side to side so that my chest brushes against his torso.
He takes my chin between his fingers. “He sounds like a slave driver.”
“In all the worst ways…”
His mouth covers mine. And for two hot minutes, he nibbles on my lip while I press against his body, his hands wandering down to my ass and mine raking down his back.
When we pull away, the magnetic connection that breaks is enough to yank the world off its axis.
I smile up at him and wipe my lips with my thumb. “Your schedule is on your desk.”
Ransome winks at me. He winks! It’s such a sexual and flirtatious gesture I didn’t even know it was something he was capable of doing.
Then he makes his way to his desk, the rest of his gestures deliciously, provocatively routine. Familiar in every way. Predictable—and yet exhilarating.
He picks up his coffee mug, black and steaming.
He stands in front of his window and looks out over the sprawling city. A city he towers over and yet, he knows every building, every street, every gutter. And he runs it all.
He takes a sip of his coffee. Let it settle. Then he turns back to his desk and takes a seat, overlooking the schedule.
I watch as his eyes scan every separated line of it. The hour-by-hour of his daily agenda. With each line he reads, his head tips in the slightest of nods.
He reads it once and only once, memorizing it. Then he sets it back down and looks up at me. Takes another sip of his coffee.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Rozanov?” I ask with the same sugary tone as before.
“Yes. Bend over the desk.”
I have to stifle my shocked laugh.
“If you need me, you know where to find me,” I say as I make my way out of the room. And I don’t even have to try to sway my hips as I go. Thanks to the imbalance of my growing baby bump in the front, my ass has a mind of its own.
And if I had to guess, it’s doing naughty things to Ransome’s mind.
The rest of the day goes by in a breeze.
But that’s not to say it isn’t busy. One of his meetings with Saudi Arabia runs late, which presses into the rest of his schedule.
It means pushing back two other meetings, lunch to go in his office, and no afternoon break.
But with a little rearranging, everything is covered, sewn together without seams. He doesn’t have a moment of disarray.
And in the meantime, I am able to pick up his dry-cleaning as well as eat my own lunch (a half-salad and chicken wrap that he insisted I finish), all while making sure his shirts are hung in the right order by color, style, and brand.
I am in his office closet while he is away in a meeting, in the middle of distancing the shirts one inch apart so he doesn’t have to rifle through them too much, when I hear someone walk through the door.
“Don’t worry,” I say with a smile, but without turning around. “You won’t be missing any this time. Now that I am staying in your home, I have access to as many of your button-downs as I want.”
“Are you sure they still fit you?”
I whip around and find Jenica standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
I hate to admit that I’m startled. My heart is literally jack rabbiting in my chest. But I wouldn’t dare let her see that.
“You mean in my husband’s office?” she asks, and I’m surprised I didn’t hear her stilettos on the wooden floor as she walked in.
She’s wearing a sleek black dress, tight enough to make her size-four body look like a size two.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Dreamhouse Barbie wear anything but pink.
Guess she’s going for Business Barbie today. Cute.
“I should be asking you the same thing,” she says as her eyes sweep over me, locking on my belly as usual. It’s like she’s trying to give me a once-over but her gaze gets stuck.
You may be his wife, but I’m carrying his child…
“I work here,” I remind her. Honestly, I just wanted to say the words out loud.
“Don’t be coy,” she says as she marches over to me. “I know exactly what you’re trying to do.”
“The laundry?” I ask, still being coy.
But Jenica doesn’t find me amusing. She raises her chin and lowers her voice.
“You might think that because you’re carrying his baby, you have some kind of claim.
But you don’t. He is with me. And it’s not just legal.
It’s through a truce that outweighs any loyalty he has to you and your low-class breeding. ”
“Are you talking about me or Ransome’s baby?” I ask. “Because this baby, his baby, is a boy. That makes him the next Rozanov pakhan.”
“And he may be,” she counters. “But once he’s born, Ransome will have no use for you. You’ll be out of here so fast, not even your scent will linger. Jasmine is overrated, by the way. Very last season.”
I stand taller. Meet her in the eyes with my hand on my belly and a relaxed smile on my lips. “He’s not going to take my baby from me.”
“And you’re not going to take my husband away from me.”
I let out a small chortle and take a step back. “You say that like I haven’t already.”
I wait for her to say something else, but surprisingly enough, she doesn’t. She turns and walks out, her heels clacking on the floor as she goes.
But just before she makes it to the door, I add one more thing. Just to ice the cake.
“Just so you know, Ransome loves jasmine.” She looks back over her shoulder, ever-so-slightly, and I smile. “Drives him wild.”