Chapter 4
Dmitri
“Good morning, Mr. Ivanov.”
Exhaustion settles deep in my bones as I walk past her desk to my office, my eyes burning from lack of sleep.
After forcing myself to take Annika out for dinner for appearances, I spent hours trying to figure out another way to secure this alliance with the Suyunovs aside from agreeing to marry the exasperating heiress.
How the fuck am I supposed to stay married to her for a year?
I assume the marriage will stand for however long the alliance survives, and it’s in my best interest for the alliance to last decades.
Annika chewed out the waiter last night for putting too much ice in her water. She’s the type to nitpick about everything.
It’s not like I was planning on dating anytime soon, but I’ve always assumed I’d start a family with a strong woman. A family built maybe not on love but on mutual admiration and respect instead of misery.
That future doesn’t look likely anymore.
I pull open the doors to my office and stop in my tracks at the sight of Cara bent over picking up papers off the floor, her ass facing me. She’s wearing a tight red dress that I’ve never seen before, and the moment that she stands and turns to me, heat pools low in my stomach.
Her neckline is even more revealing than normal, showing the delectable dips and curves of her cleavage. My eyes settle there for a moment before I clench my jaw and force them upward. As if I haven’t already spent too many nights thinking about her.
“Good morning, Mr. Ivanov,” Cara says with a warm smile as she places the papers back on my desk.
“Morning,” I say as I approach her. The word is gruffer than intended because I don’t like being the asshole boss who thinks about bending his assistant over his desk a hundred times a day.
Cara pushes her hair behind her shoulders, keeping the long strands from obscuring the view of her neck and chest. “Coffee and breakfast today? Or just coffee?”
“Both. I’m starving,” I reply. My eyes settle on hers, tension forming in the space between us as I stop in front of her. She has no idea how badly my tongue craves a taste of her. “Get something for yourself too.” And get out of my office before I forget myself.
Cara’s face brightens as if she senses my desperation and relishes it. “Thank you. I’m pretty hungry myself.”
I check the time on my watch, grounding myself back in reality. It takes longer than it should for me to figure out which way the hands are pointing. “My meeting is in an hour. I’ll come with you to the café.”
It’s not like I have anything else to do during that time, other than fantasize inappropriately about her.
Cara lifts her eyebrows in surprise, her green eyes sparkling. “Are you sure? I can go by myself.”
I shake my head. “It’s just down the street. Lead the way.”
“Yes, sir,” Cara replies, giving me a smile before striding toward the double doors.
I hang back for a second, giving myself time to watch the alluring sway of her hips as she walks.
We haven’t spoken much about anything other than work.
Not that we should be getting personal with each other, but I can’t help but be curious about her.
Brains and beauty are one hell of a combination.
Outside of her education, work background, and debt, I don’t know much about her. She seems particularly…innocent, but there’s something in the back of my mind that tells me otherwise. That dress certainly doesn’t scream innocence.
Cara pauses before opening the doors and looks over her shoulder at me. “Coming?”
I could. Fuck me, I could come on her beautiful breasts so damn hard.
With a stiff nod, I leave my office with her and head into the elevator. Now that I’m closer to her than usual, I can smell her perfume. I expected something flowery, but she smells sweet instead.
Vanilla. Maybe a bit of cinnamon. Like she just walked through a bakery. I could devour every inch of her.
Cara glances over at me, her eyes catching mine. An embarrassed look fills her face as she looks away just as the doors open. She walks out, leading me through the large lobby of the building, garnering the undivided attention of the two guards at the front desk.
Possessiveness momentarily sparks from within me before I quickly douse it with the water of pragmatism.
Cara’s not mine. She’s only my employee. I can’t shove a skewer through these assholes’ eyeballs just for looking at her.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this woman suddenly a million times more intriguing today?
Perhaps it’s because she hasn’t been acting shy like usual. Either she’s feeling more confident or she wants something from me. She’s only just started, so she can’t possibly be vying for a raise. Maybe she wants an office of her own.
I prefer her occupying my office.
When we arrive at the café, we get in the short line at the counter, the smell of coffee and pastries filling the air as jazz music plays over the speakers. It’s a contrast from the typical chaos that I’m used to on a workday or night.
“What do you want?” I ask her. The question carries more weight than is required for the moment.
But I find that I’m genuinely curious about the answer for once.
Everyone I know wants something from me—money, power, a promotion, mercy.
My life is one transaction after another, which has become tedious.
“Something sweet,” she replies as she peers at the case full of pastries and other desserts. She looks over at me with a curious expression on her face. “Do you ever eat anything sweet?”
I could eat you up and down, milaya.
Shrugging off those thoughts, I tell her the truth. “I wasn’t allowed to growing up. I got used to not eating it.”
Cara tilts her head. “Are you opposed to trying something new?”
God, I loathe change. To me, new is usually just another word for disorder, a disruption to the status quo, a loss of my much-needed sense of control. Yet, my lips form a smirk when I tell her, “I welcome it.”
“Then you can split one of these cherry Danishes with me. They’re as big as my head,” Cara says as she motions to a large Danish with cream cheese and cherry filling.
It does sound pretty good. A few bites won’t kill me.
“Sure,” I reply before taking one of my credit cards out of my wallet and paying for our breakfast and coffee.
Can I really call it breakfast, though? It’s essentially just a lump of sugar.
Once we receive our items, we take a seat at a table in front of the window that showcases the rest of downtown Las Vegas. It’s a surprisingly overcast day, donning the city in a grayish hue.
“Here’s your fork,” Cara says as she holds a plastic utensil out to me.
I take it and cut up a small piece of the Danish. I inspect it for a moment before putting it in my mouth where an explosion of sweetness hits my tastebuds. It’s almost overwhelming, but damn it’s good.
“It’s better than I expected,” I tell her before sipping on my coffee, which isn’t sweet in the slightest making it a good chaser.
Cara smiles then licks her fork after finishing her bite, making me clench my fist under the table. She’s killing me today. “You’ve been working a lot lately. More than usual.”
Given how little time she has spent with me, I’m surprised she noticed.
“I’m running into an issue with my antique shop,” I tell her before stealing another swipe of filling. “Transportation issues. My main guy for that is…on an extended vacation.”
Cara nods as she sips her latte. “What kind of transportation issues?”
“I need trucks, and to send a shipment of small packages to my buyer, but I’d like them to not be seen if law enforcement decided to check the delivery trucks,” I reply as I watch her expression to see if she’s catching on.
“Questionable items?” Cara asks with a straight face.
“You could say that,” I tell her. I’m not sure why I’m revealing this much of the “other side” of my business to her today. That damn dress appears to be loosening my tongue. Her mouthwatering figure is more potent than a truth serum.
“Do you have an inventory list of the antique items in your shop?” Cara replies after a few moments.
I nod.
“If you want to send it to me, I can take a look and try to help you come up with a solution,” she offers.
Cara is…strangely comfortable discussing criminal activity, like she’s familiar with it or just that fearless.
Something about the thought of her being a little bad underneath the persona of someone who seems so good makes me so damn hard. Just how bad is she?
“How about we work together? We could strategize after hours,” I suggest, eager to spend more time together. She already seems confident in coming up with something with the small amount of information she has now. I can only imagine how effective she’ll be when she gets the rest of what she needs.
While I try to tell myself that it’s her brain that’s impressive to me, I know it’s more than that. The damn dress just seems to be amplifying her siren call, more so than usual today.
“I’d be happy to,” Cara replies with an easy smile, her eyes lingering on mine. “I’m here to help you in any way I can.”
In. Any. Way. She. Can.
She has no idea what she’s offering.
Or does she?
If so, I wonder just how much it would cost me to have her any way I want. After all, everyone has a price.
I would ask if I were a weaker man.
But I’ve got two empires to run, am soon to be engaged, and have no time for messy dalliances with my staff that might throw a wrench into my future. One mistake could cost me more than I’m willing to risk.
Still, I want to see her tonight. The more time we spend together, the more likely I’ll find that she’s just like all the other women who only see me as their personal ATM.
Yes, that’s exactly what I want, proof that there’s nothing extraordinary about her. It’s only a matter of time.
“How late should I plan on staying?” she asks.
I take another bite of the Danish, starting to grow more used to the punch of sweetness. “Late, milaya. I’ll order us dinner.”
Cara briefly brushes her knuckles against her cheek when it reddens as if recognizing that I’m blurring the lines between employer and employee, that I just fucking called her sweetheart. “But that’s my job.”
I shake my head. “I’ll do it. I need you to focus on strategizing.”
“Okay,” Cara replies before taking another bite. A tiny smear of cherry filling stains the corner of her top lip, drawing my eyes to her enticing mouth. She notices my staring and cocks her head. “Is there something on my face?”
“Your lip,” I say as I gesture to the spot.
Instead of wiping it off with her thumb as I expect, she drags her tongue over the corner of her mouth, licking up the cherry filling. Her teeth then graze her bottom lip for a second, making desire burn through me.
I don’t need to get involved with her in any way, especially when the alliance is riding on my marriage to another woman but fuck, she’s so damn beguiling. She probably tastes as sweet as that Danish.
“You got it,” I tell her once I manage to remember how to speak.
“Thank you,” Cara replies before checking the time. “We should probably head back to the office soon so that I can get you prepped for the meeting.”
I nod in agreement and finish off my coffee before tossing our trash. As we slip out of the café together, our hands briefly touch, fingertips brushing. It sends an electric charge up my arm, making me tense. A fluke, surely.
Cara notices and gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say before holding my arm out, motioning for her to go ahead of me.
I’m not used to these tense moments. My curiosity about her is threatening to throw me off my game, and with so much happening with the marriage, my businesses, and the cops grabbing my men off the street or finding my drugs, I can’t have that happen.
I need to be focused, which means seeing her as an employee, not someone to ogle over or even wonder about. I’m too busy to entertain someone, and I’ll be stuck trying to make a prissy heiress happy for the foreseeable future, anyway.
When we get back to the office and head to one of the conference rooms, I hear muffled voices inside, grounding me again to my purpose here.
Not only do I need to get myself together for my own wellbeing, but I also have to remind the men who work for me that I’m not a person that they want to disappoint.
That I don’t hesitate to eliminate liabilities.
The Ivanov empire comes first. Always.
It’s my sole purpose. The reason I was born. The reason I’ve been chosen and trusted to lead the whole family.
I don’t know anything else.
And I don’t care to.