Chapter 18 Ransome
RANSOME
Everything is exploding.
My phone has not stopped going off since last night, everyone from Mav to Baron to my parents to people at Apex.
I can’t say that I am surprised. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve kissed someone publicly enough for it to go postal.
And the fact that there are photos not just of the kiss, but the date too, has the world in an uproar.
Thankfully, there are no photos of Amara signing the contract.
And speaking of Amara…
The moment I walk in the office, she’s a mess. She drops her phone, spills my coffee, and blurts out another unsavory word.
“Shit! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You scared me and—”
“What are you wearing?” I bark out, and Amara looks down at her tube-tight dress. The same one she wore last night on our date.
“The only thing I had in your penthouse that I could wear,” she answers, and I grit my teeth. She’s not wrong. I took her back to the penthouse but didn’t think about the wardrobe issue.
“Does that mean you’re wearing the same panties too?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Clean this up.”
“Right away, Mr. Rozanov.”
I watch as Amara hurries around my office, wiping the outside of my coffee, handing me what’s left of it. I narrow my eyes at the third a cup and take a sip. At least it’s still hot.
She then proceeds to wipe up my desk, tossing the drenched schedule in the trash before making her way to the door.
“I’ll print another one right away,” she says. My eyes fall on her ass. The dress is so tight she can hardly move her feet. I don’t know whether to be turned on, entertained, or pissed off.
But when I notice other eyes following her ass to her office, I go with the latter.
“Is anyone around here going to work or do I need to write up the termination papers now?” I bark out. The second I do, everyone’s heads drop as they make themselves busy.
I walk back into my office and slam the door.
My phone buzzes again. And again. I fish it out, frustrated, and stare for a long second at the name on the screen.
Otets. Father.
OTETS: If you won’t pick up, then we’ll do this in person.
OTETS: I’ll see you at 5 P.M. at the usual place for drinks.
I rub my temples hard. As good as whiskey sounds right now, I don’t want to deal with him. He seems to forget, I have a company—an empire—to run.
Bratva operations need a cover. Something to hide behind so people don’t go peeking under rugs. And in our case, that cover is Apex, a multi-billion dollar company that I oversee.
Or I would be overseeing if I had a fucking schedule on my desk.
I march out the door and into Amara’s office. But the second I walk inside, we collide—again.
“Goddammit,” I growl. I hold my arms out to the side in a T, but not quickly enough to protect the rest of my coffee from spilling, this time all over the floor.
Amara looks white in the face, with a tinge of green that matches her dress.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rozanov. Sir. I was just… Here’s your schedule.”
I take in a sharp breath and let it out. Then I swap her the empty cup for my schedule. My eyes run over it quickly and I suck my teeth before nodding once.
“The meeting with Ahmad is in fifteen, sir.”
“I see that,” I snap.
“It’s a 7 hour difference and—”
“I know what time it is there.”
Amara flinches, snapping her mouth shut. For a split second, I feel bad. But my coffee is gone, my name and face are all over the internet, my dad is pissing me the fuck off with his business hours meetings, and that dress is too fucking distracting.
I make a mental note to have her wardrobe sent to the penthouse later.
I turn around and head back to my office, then decide I really, really need that coffee. I stop and turn around and as I do, I nearly run into her again.
“I’m sorry,” she says for the hundredth time.
“What now, Miss Parker?”
“I was going to ask if you want me to get you another coffee.”
I deadpan her, almost annoyed that she read my mind. I don’t know if it’s because she’s been stalking me for two months or if she’s just really that good at being my personal assistant. Either way, I’m annoyed.
“Yes. Get me another coffee. And try to keep this one in the cup.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” Amara turns to leave, but I call out to her.
“Oh, and Miss Parker? One more thing.”
She looks back at me, her dark brown eyes like Bambi’s and her pink lips pouting in concern. “Yes?”
Fuck me, she is gorgeous. I want to rip that dress off her body with my teeth. But I can’t. I can, however, remind her of her place. Her new place.
I close the space between us in two steps. And then, knowing full well that everyone is looking, I kiss her.
Not long. Not hard. Just enough to impress on her—and everyone else—who owns her now.
Me.