Chapter 12
LEV
Living with Mari this past week has been hell.
She’s in my space, yet she still refuses to even talk to me. After we brought her things from her apartment, she took the guest room, shut the door, and stayed inside for two days. Then she went full-on nuclear.
The first morning she finally left her room, she tore through the kitchen, banging every cabinet door and making as much noise as possible.
Then she loudly complained that there was nothing in the apartment to eat, which was categorically untrue.
I’d had a staffer get a list of all her favorites and stock the kitchen.
I kindly offered to order in anything she wanted, but she yelled at one of my guards that if he didn’t let her leave the penthouse to get her own breakfast, she would twist his balls off with her bare hands.
After that, it was clear she wouldn’t stay in the penthouse for anything short of a death threat, so I conceded and let her work at the office. The trade-off, of course, was that she had to travel with my men and be under physical surveillance at all times.
She hasn’t given my men an inch. They have a bet going among themselves to see who she can make cry first. They’re all contenders.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of making this better for her.
While she’s freezing me out, I’m burning hours hunting the embezzler I knew was there before she arrived, keeping the Kozlovs from mistaking my silence for weakness, and closing the holes the Delancey hit tried to open.
I have to be everywhere at once, and I simply don’t have the time to coddle her.
Not that she’d let me, anyway. As angry as she is, she still refuses to even look at me. At the penthouse, she disappears the second I come home, and at work she keeps her door shut and only communicates with me through short, clipped emails.
My team complains. To one another, of course, because they’d never complain to my face. They like their jobs too much. But Yuri’s been showing me the text thread they maintain.
Marcus: She refuses to sit in the back seat if the driver takes the FDR. Says the view’s boring.
Pavel: She told me to “stop shadowing like a creep.” She said if I didn’t walk six paces ahead, she’d scream her head off.
Elyan: I tried to knock on her door and she threw something heavy at it.
They probably want me to do something about the “Mari Problem,” but I’m secretly proud.
As annoying as she is, she’s still a fighter.
She isn’t just taking this on the chin. If real danger shows up, I can trust that she’ll fight like hell to get away from it.
It’s the only comfort I can take right now.
Yesterday, she made my men move her couch in. She said she couldn’t be expected to stay here any longer without her favorite couch.
What I didn’t realize, though, was that she would make my men move my living room couch into my home office.
I called Yuri in a fury.
“You said she could bring the couch,” he said with a laugh. “What did you expect her to do?”
“I expected she’d rearrange the living room, not declare war on my private office. Who the hell signed off on this?”
“Believe it or not, you did.” He laughed again. “You said we could move the couch wherever it fit.”
“It doesn’t fit in my office,” I said, seething. “This isn’t working any longer. The penthouse is obviously too small for the two of us.”
“Don’t make this worse than it is, Lev,” he warned. “She’s a tornado in your penthouse. Take her to the compound and she’ll be a full-blown hurricane. I’ve got two guys threatening to quit as it is.”
“Then let them quit,” I growled. “If they aren’t up to the task of keeping a tiny woman safe, I can easily replace them.”
I hung up and fumed.
How has this five-foot-three Latina woman so completely taken over my life? And still, I can’t help but be impressed by her audacity. No one has ever challenged me like this, or if they did, I quickly put an end to it. But when she pushes me away, it only makes me want her more.
On Friday, I line up so many back-to-back meetings that my vision starts to blur.
I’m trying to get a meeting with my contacts in the Kozlov camp, but no one will take my call.
Agent Halloran calls to say there’s no movement and he’s still trying to track down the fake Agent Cole.
I need a weekend out of the city as much as I need to get Mari out of my penthouse for a couple days.
By three, I know I can’t put it off any longer. I have to tell her that we’re going to the compound this weekend. I wait until I see her leave her office, then I “coincidentally” run into her in the hallway. It’s the only way I can be sure she won’t shut me out.
“Mari,” I say as nicely as I can.
“Lev,” she says in the same rude tone.
We stop beside the glass wall outside Finance. I don’t waste any time.
“We’re going to the compound for the weekend.”
She laughs, short and bright and mean. “We aren’t going anywhere. I’ve got plans.”
“What plans?” I ask with a dismissive chuckle.
“I’m having dinner with Susie tonight, and brunch with a college friend on Sunday.”
“No,” I say simply. “You’re not doing any of that.”
“No?” she scoffs, lifting her chin to challenge me.
Infuriating and a turn-on. I want to push her against the glass wall and take her right there, to remind her who’s boss.
“You don’t get to make unsanctioned plans right now,” I remind her. “You’re coming with me. The car leaves at six.”
She scans the corridor like she’s looking for witnesses. A few people do glance in our direction as they pass by. Enough. I set my palm on her elbow and feel the change under her skin.
“We’re not doing this in the hall,” I say.
“You don’t get to just order me around—” she starts.
“We’re going to my office,” I say in a low growl. “Now.”
I guide her to the office, then shut and lock the door. She wants witnesses, but I need privacy.
She spins before the latch settles.
“You have to stop ordering me around like I’m one of your men,” she says, seething. “I have every right to file a complaint with HR.”
“Stop,” I demand, holding the back of my chair, because if I touch her the wrong way, we’ll be past talking. “This isn’t a punishment. I have better security at the compound, and I need a weekend out of the city.”
“You need,” she spits, rolling her eyes. “What about what I need?”
“What do you need?” I ask impatiently.
“I need to feel like I’m not a hostage in my own life. I need to see my friend, to sleep in a bed that doesn’t smell like your detergent, to make coffee without a guard’s reflection in the kettle. I need to breathe.”
“You can breathe at the compound.” I shrug. “We have a lovely garden.”
“Where I’ll be guarded by your men,” she argues.
“Yes.” I nod, because that’s the condition.
She shakes her head, mouth set, eyes blazing.
“You keep making executive decisions like you bought shares in me. I didn’t agree to any of this.”
“Do you want to stay alive?” I cut in, cold. “Because you seem to keep forgetting that those are the stakes. I can keep you safe, or I can let you live your life and risk someone hurting you.”
“And you know what, Lev?” she yells. “That would be my choice. I would get to decide whether I live or die.”
“I don’t accept that!” I yell back, finally losing my patience. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger just because you don’t want to be with me.”
She steps into me like she’ll swing. She doesn’t. Her fingers reach my tie, pause a millimeter short, like she’s reminding herself who I am.
“Move,” she says. “I’m going back to work.”
“No,” I say, staying solidly in place.
“I’m not your property,” she spits.
“You’re not,” I agree, more quietly. “But you are mine to protect.”
Her breathing turns shallow, full of rage and something deeper. I stare at her mouth for a fraction of a second too long. I step in, take her face in my hands, and she meets me halfway.
The kiss isn’t gentle. She fists my shirt and hauls me closer. I pin her to the wall with my body and grip her hips tightly. Even now, she’s fighting me for dominance. Her tongue battles mine, trying to claim me when she’s mine to claim.
She groans, pushing me away but fisting the fabric of my blazer so I can’t go anywhere. She’s a walking contradiction.
“You think you can kiss me into compliance,” she murmurs. “That’s not how I work.”
My hands slide down to the hem of her dress and I tease her, testing her resolve.
“I can make your knees go weak,” I remind her. “I can make you scream my name until your voice goes hoarse.”
I take my hands from her skirt and pin her to the wall.
“I can make you beg me to make you come,” I whisper against her jaw. “So maybe I can’t kiss you into compliance, but, baby, I’ve got a lot more weapons in my arsenal.”
Just to prove it, I grind my hardening cock against her stomach and feel the quick exhale of breath as she reacts to my words.
But just as quickly, she pushes me away and smooths down her dress.
“I have to get back to work, Mr. Borikov,” she says coldly, a perfect mask of professionalism on her face despite her smudged lipstick.
I carefully swipe at my own mouth to get rid of the evidence.
“Whatever you say, Ms. Gonzales,” I shoot back. “I’ll see you at six in front of the building. Don’t keep me waiting.”
She glares at me until I move out of her way and unlock my door for her.