Chapter 15 #2
“Somehow,” he growled, “I don’t think God has anything to do with this.”
His angry words snapped me out of the haze. “Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“You heard me. If you don’t, the fabric in your shirt will cause a significant burn, including blistering.”
Stash stared at me as if I was nuts, but just like a guy, he wasn’t moving. He’d removed his jacket, which made things even worse. I had a matter of seconds and the bastard didn’t seem interested in cooperating.
“You heard me.” When he still didn’t respond, I yanked at his tie without thinking, managing to unknot it before he reacted. As soon as I grabbed his shirt, ready to rip the two sides apart, he snapped his hands on mine.
“I can do it, Saige.”
His gravelly voice sent a wild and highly electric set of shivers all the way to my pussy.
Taking a fluid step backward, he yanked off his shirt by grabbing the back of his collar. Nice and easy, as if that’s the way he always removed his clothes.
The silly thought brought an even more ridiculous wave of heat that started in the deepness of my core. My pussy was already damp, images of his naked body dusting everything else.
When he was bare chested, I sucked in and held my breath. Right now, at this moment and with his Clark Kent eyeglasses, I thought for certain he would do a little run, jump out the window, and suddenly be in blue and red tights.
Only Stash Chertov wasn’t a superhero. Until you added the term antichrist to the title.
A full five seconds passed.
“What now, moya lichnaya tantsovshchitsa?”
“Don’t call me that. Not here. No, not anywhere.” I glanced over his shoulder at the door, thankful no one had walked into the break room. That wouldn’t last long. At least his stupid words of endearment had broken the hypnotic state.
I yanked paper towels and turned on the cold water.
“What would you prefer I call you?” He had to ask the question, his obvious amusement showing more emotion than he’d ever done in the office.
“Ms. Mitchell is just fine.”
“Since we’re getting to know each other very well, that’s unacceptable. Saige will have to do.”
I barely lifted my gaze, falling into Florence Nightingale mode as I pressed the cool towels against his chest. In trying to be as gentle as possible, every few seconds my pinky brushed across his skin.
After only twenty seconds, I realized he’d gone silent.
There were two sounds in the room: his heavy breathing and my thudding heart.
Once again, I dared shift my eyes upward, noticing his were fixated on me, his expression similar to what I’d seen the night before in the throes of passion.
“Stop looking at me,” I demanded, although my voice was barely a whisper.
“I’m merely ensuring you don’t finish what you started.”
“What?” I snapped my head up. “Do you honestly think I did that on purpose?”
“Did you?”
I backed away, my butt hitting the sink. At this point, I couldn’t read his expression. Even if he was kidding, which I doubted given the level of security, his words hurt after what we’d shared.
My cheeks flared, likely hot to the touch and I looked away before he realized he affected me in any way. “You think much too highly of yourself.” I tossed the towels, avoiding staring at his broad chest again.
Being so close to him was annoying. However, inhaling his aftershave, which was so much headier and enticing than the man on the subway, was debilitating.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he offered, although his tone had shifted into being sultry.
“Is that why there’s additional security? You don’t trust me any longer?”
He crowded my space and I was forced to suck in my breath all over again. What was he doing? Reaching over me, he opened the cabinet, grabbing two additional cups. From there, he proceeded to make two cups of coffee, including adding just the right amount of my favorite creamer.
How had he… Never mind. I had a feeling he’d already learned everything about me. The man didn’t sleep, and I knew that because I’d peeked at him during the night. He’d had plenty of time to have his goons checking on me.
When he was finished stirring, tossing the little wooden stick, he pushed the cup he’d prepared for me closer. “There are aspects about last night that continue to disturb me. My security team is merely ensuring every employee is safe while doing their jobs. Nothing more.”
He was close enough I should feel suffocated. The way he was looking at me was as if daring for me to challenge him.
I had nothing at this point to say.
So he backed away, grabbing his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder. The look he threw out was entirely different than this time the day before, a heated glance full of knowing. An experience that couldn’t be changed and would never be repeated.
“You should keep the area dry and pay attention to your skin. If it starts to bubble, you may want to see your doctor just in case. I am sorry I burned you.”
He took a deep breath, the expression I was used to covering the earlier mask. “Don’t worry, my private dancer. I’ve been through much worse.”
Of course he walked out, preventing me from correcting him.
Even though a man like Stash would never accept being corrected on anything.
Oh, he was so infuriating.
At least I made it back to my desk without falling on my face or tossing my coffee on anyone else. Once I sat down and after I threw a hate-filled look toward his closed office door, I got to work.
Between my normal workload and the new report, I’d easily become pleasantly absorbed, so much so hours had gone by.
I only looked up because my cellphone buzzed indicating a text.
Tawny: Lunch on the promenade? My treat. I picked up a couple salads like you like.
Uh-huh. Why did I have a feeling she had yet another favor to ask? Since I’d forgotten all about packing my lunch after the night and morning I’d had, and I only had an old granola bar to munch on, the salad sounded delicious.
I glanced at my report, but that wasn’t the real hesitation. I’d need to come up with a plausible story on how the evening had gone. Would she discover I was lying when she went to work the next time?
A quick glance at my boss’ still closed office door reminded me that men inside crime syndicates didn’t open their mouths. Thinking about what Patrick had told me, let alone my… boss. I’d need to rip the Band-Aid off soon enough.
Me: I’ll be there in fifteen.
Tawny texted back the naughty devil emoji.
I sat back, chewing on my bottom lip. I’d simply concentrate on how exciting the fights were and that the money was great. No, good. Not good enough to do again, but. No, the money was shitty. Laughing, I glared at the ceiling. Now I was planning on lying to my bestie.
She was easy to find in her bright pink dress, sitting with her back to me and staring out at the skyline. She’d picked a table closer to the thick glass fence, which allowed for spectacular views while keeping the employees safe.
I’d thought she didn’t like heights, being this close far too uncomfortable. When I approached, she didn’t look up as usual.
“Hey. Tawny. Are you okay?”
It took her a few seconds, blinking even before she snapped out of whatever mental fog she was in. “Oh, hi. I’m sorry.” She laughed, but I could swear with more nervousness than I was used to hearing. Nothing ever bothered her.
I slipped into the seat, noticing she’d momentarily shuddered. “Why are you sitting here?”
“What?”
“You hate tables this close to the edge.”
“Our normal seat was taken. See?” She pointed toward our usual spot, her usual personality taking over. “They dared sit in our place.”
Laughing, my stomach grumbled as soon as I noticed the salad. “You are so predictable.”
“Brat.”
“Bitch.” We both laughed and she tossed me a package of disposable silverware.
“How was last night?” Her face brightened, her eagerness almost addictive.
“Not bad. I was very nervous, but the staff was very nice.”
Tawny narrowed her eyebrows. “Even Patrick? He can be a little… rough around the edges.”
“He’s very pushy and protective but I appreciated his attitude since the guests are…”
“Out of control?” She giggled as she leaned forward.
“Very. A fascinating premise. I don’t think I could do that all the time. Kudos to you.” I watched her reaction, bracing for a barrage of questions. At least I hadn’t lied up to this point.
Her shrug was noncommittal. “Did you make decent money anyway?”
“Quite a bit.”
“Good. I’m glad. Maybe you can breathe a little easier.”
As my best friend, she knew why money was important and it wasn’t for me to purchase a little house. That would be a long time coming.
I breathed a slight sigh of relief when she didn’t ask me for another favor. “How was your date?”
My bestie was thoughtful, munching on her salad. “Interesting.”
“How so?” I was inhaling the salad, forgetting just how delicious they were. Maybe food tasted better after incredible sex. Shit. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t even think about Stash in any other way but professionally. Obviously, the incident hours before had pricked my nerves.
Tawny was many things, but her consistent noncommittal attitude was surprising. She was trying to keep something from me.
“Have you ever thought something was one thing only to discover it was something else entirely?”
“Almost every day of my life.”
My honest answer erased the shadows from her face. “That’s how my night went.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I wouldn’t call the date bad. On the contrary. He took me to an incredible five-star restaurant, ordering the most expensive bottle of wine. After that we went on the cruise. Would you believe on his private yacht? There was music and champagne. Everything a girl should love.”
Yacht. That screamed of money, the kind Stash and his cousin had.
“But you didn’t.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know how I feel about men trying too hard.”
“At least he tried. I take it he’s a wealthy man.”