14. Vladimir
Vladimir
"She came sooner than I expected."
The words leave my mouth in a low rumble as I lean against the desk, watching the security feed.
There she is.
Luna moves like she owns the place, stepping onto the balcony without hesitation, her body a study in effortless dominance.
The black leather jacket clings to her, framing the lethal grace of her form.
Tight jeans. Boots. Her hair is slicked back into a bun, but a few rebellious curls slip free, fighting against restraint—fitting.
The night air swirls around her, carrying her scent with it—sharp, intoxicating, uniquely hers.
Dimitri whistles low. “She’s got a thing for dramatic entrances, huh? She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.” He swirls the whiskey in his glass lazily, grinning like the shit-stirrer he is. “Not every woman storms into the lion’s den like she’s the goddamn hunter.”
“Or she’s just crazy,” Konstantin mutters, arms crossed as he watches the screen. His usual stoic expression is slightly pinched. “You’re sure you want her here, Vlad?”
I don’t answer, my gaze locked on Luna as she pushes the glass doors open and steps inside.
She moves like a storm—controlled chaos, unpredictable but inevitable.
By the time I turn, she’s already in front of me, cocking a brow. “Something wrong, Vladimir?”
I chuckle, stepping aside as she strides past. “Not at all. Just admiring the view.”
“Flattery? That’s desperate. Even for you.”
Ignoring my men, who are watching with barely contained amusement, she makes her way to my desk. And then—because of course she does—she drops into my chair, kicks her feet up onto the polished surface, and owns it.
Dimitri snickers. Konstantin mutters something under his breath before slipping out of the office with Dimitri, clearly deciding they don’t want to be here for whatever the hell is about to happen next.
I let out a low laugh, making my way to the bar cart. “Comfortable?”
She tilts her head, smirking. “Actually, yeah. I could get used to this.”
I swirl the whiskey in my glass, amusement curling through me. “You look good behind that desk, Luna.”
She twirls a pen between her fingers, her smirk widening. “I know.”
I take a slow sip before adding, “But you’d look even better bent over it.”
That gets a reaction.
Her fingers tighten around the pen, lips parting slightly before she schools her expression back into one of pure indifference.
“You’re insufferable,” she mutters, though her eyes gleam with something wicked.
“And yet, you’re here.” I push off the bar cart, closing the space between us. “So, tell me, Luna, what’s the real reason for your visit?”
She leans back in the chair, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, you know. Just wanted to see which poor girl you’d marry in my place. I assume you have a backup plan, right?”
I smirk, lowering my voice. “Maybe. Amani would probably enjoy the power. Raven would tolerate me, at best. Should I write them a personal letter as well?”
Her jaw tightens, but I catch the flicker of something more profound in her eyes. Jealousy? No. Possessiveness.
She’ll never admit it.
But I see it.
I move around the desk, and before she can react, I grab her by the hips and lift her onto it, settling her exactly where I want her.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she glares up at me, her legs on either side of mine.
“You’re stubborn,” I murmur, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. She jerks her head away, but I see the way her pulse jumps in her throat. “I like that.”
Her jaw clenches. “You’re an insufferable, arrogant bastard. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Every day.”
She glares, frustration palpable. “Do you even hear yourself? Why can’t you find a regular bride? Someone who will actually like you? Are you insane?”
I lean in, my voice dropping. “Calling me insane is like calling the pot black, isn’t it, Luna?”
She snorts. “Why can’t you just let what I did to Anton go? Why do you think that I’ll agree to this insane plan of yours? If you think I’m going to marry you for some fucked-up business alliance, you’re out of your mind!”
I reach for her wrist, lifting it gently. Her scars catch the light, faint but visible, and I brush my thumb over them.
“You’re asking too many questions for someone who has no interest in this ‘business proposal’,” I say softly.
Her breath catches, but she yanks her hand back, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare pity me?”
I laugh, low and dark. “Pity? No. Admiration. Respect. An obsession. But never pity.”
Her lips part, but whatever retort she has died in her throat when I step even closer, caging her against the desk.
“I hate you,” she hisses even though there’s no real bite behind it.
“You know what they say about love and hate,” I reply, brushing my fingers along her jaw.
She snatches the whiskey from my hand, eyes locked on mine as she downs it in one go. Then, slowly, deliberately, she throws the glass, letting it shatter against the floor.
My pulse kicks up. "That supposed to scare me?"
She licks a stray drop from her lip. "No. Just felt like breaking shit."
I chuckle darkly. "I know your body wants me, Luna. Your mind just hasn’t caught up yet.”
Her breath shudders, but before I can revel in her reaction, she yanks me forward and bites my lip—hard enough to draw blood.
A groan rips from my throat, pleasure spiking at the sharp sting.
She leans back slightly, eyes gleaming as she licks the crimson off her lips.
My mind spirals into depraved thoughts.
I want to ruin her. Worship her. Keep her.
So I do.
My mouth crashes onto hers, the taste of whiskey and blood mixing as I claim her, as I pour every ounce of frustration, obsession, and need into the kiss. Her nails dig into my shirt, her body pressing into mine as we lose ourselves in the fire that’s been burning between us for far too long.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of this woman.
And I don’t fucking care.
“You’re going to regret this,” she says, her voice shaking with barely restrained fury.
“Maybe,” I whisper, brushing my lips against hers. “But I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
When she pulls back, her eyes are blazing. “This doesn’t change anything.”
“Of course not,” I say, smirking.
She hops off my desk and storms out, her scent lingering in the air, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’ll be seeing you soon, Lisichka,” I yell out as Dimitri and Konstantin reappear in the doorway, both looking far too entertained.
“She’ll kill you one day,” Konstantin mutters.
I smirk, pouring myself another drink. “Maybe. But what a way to go.”