Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Kazimir
“You have a baby tree?” she gasped at the bonsai tree in the right corner of the living room.
An odd warmth climbed my neck. “It’s not a baby tree, it was recommended by the interior decorator.”
That was a bald-faced lie. I had designed every inch of this building, from the foundation to the choice of wood for the furniture. It was my sanctuary and now she was running around it and sniffing the tree like a goddamn koala. I was beginning to doubt my decision to bring her here.
She turned to me with a taunting smile. “Liar. You’re a tree dad.”
The words hit me smack in the face and the heat from earlier climbed higher. “I am not a dad to anything.”
“But the leaves are well trimmed, the branches are so polished and… wait,” her eyes widened like she just discovered the secret of the universe. “Is that a name?”
Fuck me sideways.
“You named your tree?”
“That was to keep it from getting mixed up while it was—you know what, get over here, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk, I’m having fun with…” she squinted at the tree. “Dusha? What does that mean?”
If I gritted my molars any further, they might turn to dust. “Told you it was a random name to identify it,” I gritted out. “I’ll get all the details from the interior decorator.”
Her smile widened, a glint dancing in her eyes as she lifted her hand to the tree. Her eyes were on me, but I could only focus on her fingers wrapping around a tiny leaf hanging off a branch.
“Don’t.” My voice came out strained and heavy.
Her smile turned into a full-blown grin. “You look too tense over a random tree recommended by some decor guy.”
I swallowed tightly, my eyes not leaving her hand. “I don’t enjoy people plucking leaves from my tree.”
“So it’s your tree.”
“I paid for it, so it’s mine.”
“That’s it? You paid so it’s yours and not because it’s your emotional support greenery?”
The fuck was I doing acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar?
I slowly lifted my eyes from her hand, trailing a path up her arms to her face. “Paid or not, no one touches what I consider mine.”
Her amusement faltered a little. “So you’re a tree daddy, then?”
“Fuck's sake.” I couldn’t tell if it was the smokiness in her voice when she said daddy or the fact that my breath had been shallow since she wrapped her dainty fingers around the leaf.
Maybe it was both, but I’d covered the distance between us in a second and released the leaf from her hold before I figured out the answer.
The tightness in my airways softened.
“That’s it, I’m taking your drunk ass to bed.”
She moved before I could get a proper hold of her, running to the opposite side of the room, her soft laughter bouncing all over the space.
“Wait until Rose and Caroline find out you have a baby tree. They won’t believe it.”
“You won’t say a word about this.”
Did she just stick her tongue out at me?
“Bet. They’ll be so shocked to know the big scary boss has an actual house with marble, cozy warm decor and a baby tree.”
“He’s fifteen, hardly a baby.” The words were out before I realized the implication.
Genevieve might’ve also burst into multiple rays of excitement. “He? Birthday? Oh, this is gold.”
She whipped out her phone and I was on her before she could slip away. “No pictures.”
Her lips tilted. “Is Dusha camera shy?”
“I don’t appreciate pictures of my apartment.”
She regarded me for a moment before speaking. “You don’t scare me.”
Her spine was straight, chin jutted out in defiance, but the pulse in her throat said otherwise. My lips tilted for the first time. “You think I’m scary?”
“Not to me,” she rushed out, her bravado now shaky. “Your staff are scared shitless, but you don’t scare me one bit.”
Now I was amused. “But you’re my staff, little bird.”
“I’m not a bird and even if I were one, I wouldn't be little.”
If my estimation was right, she stood at a good 5'10" on a normal day and her heels bumped her to 5'11" or 6 feet, but her head stopped shy of my chin.
The specks of green dusting her brown eyes gleamed in the low-lit room as she diverted her attention to the city outside.
Though her audacious side lit a fire in my loins, I had a twisted perversion for stripping her of her confidence and watching her struggle to regain control.
“So you don’t think I’m scary?”
“You own a tree,” she deadpanned.
My lips curled. “And that makes me less scary?”
“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’, her smile returning. “It makes you a cutie potato.”
My head emptied of a proper retort while she swayed with a dazed smile. To say I was stunned would be an understatement.
I’ve been called a lot of things, but not once has anyone referred to me as cute even in their most drunken state.
“It’s a good thing,” she continued. “It means you have a heart in there and you’re not as annoying and evil as you portray yourself.”
Now I was just amused.
“Really?” I decided to play into her game. “You think I don’t have a heart?”
“You did try to shoot me in the vagina.”
I took a step forward. “Your reaction was hardly that of a person scared for their life.”
Her breath hitched and she took a step back. “I told you, you didn’t scare me.”
I took another step, sealing the space between us with my body. “So if I were to whip out a gun and fuck you, you wouldn’t be scared?”
Her lips parted as she sucked in a sharp gust of air.
“You’d moan and empty your juices all over my pistol while it moved out of that wet pussy of yours, even though you knew I could easily pull the trigger.”
“That’s… that’s not what I meant.”
“But I think it’s what you want.” I backed her against the floor-to-ceiling window, forcing my thigh in between her legs. Her eyes rolled and her lids fluttered.
“I think you want to be bent over and spanked till your ass is covered in prints and fucked till you can’t sit without feeling me in you. Isn’t that why you put up an attitude?”
Her legs tightened around mine, an incorrigible sound coming from her throat.
“Cat got your tongue, little bird?”
Red spread through her freckled cheeks and I wanted nothing more than to watch her choke on my cock for her silly comments about my tree, but her lids were still heavy and her movements sloppy.
I was a man of questionable morals, but I had lines and drunk women were one of the places I drew the most defined line.
Removing my leg from her tightly clenched thighs, I released her from my hold.
She looked sinfully delectable. Her lips puckered for attention and her heaving chest caused her boobs to strain against her dress, begging to be released.
I didn’t risk a look at her eyes. If there was one thing I learned in the past month, it was how her eyes had the ability to draw questionable actions from me.
“You’re drunk, get some sleep.”
“Is the all-powerful Kazimir Ivanovich running from a woman?”
“He prefers his women conscious and aware of everything he does to them.” I finally dragged my eyes to hers, feeling my cock jump at the look in them. “When I fuck you, Genevieve, there won’t be a single drop of alcohol distracting you from the things I would do to you.”
I left her wide-mouthed and panting in the living room while I made my way to my bathroom for a needed cold shower.
When I returned to my room, she had passed out on the bed, every air of defiance stripped away, revealing the soft innocence beneath.
I watched her curled form for a moment before deciding to change her into something more comfortable.
“What are you doing?” Her slurred voice caught me as I pulled her dress below her hips.
“Go back to sleep.” Her eyes fluttered closed almost immediately.
A deep groan tore from my chest when the dress finally slipped off her hips, bringing me face to face with her mound.
The only thing separating me from her pussy was a thin layer of black lace. My mouth watered at the sight. It would take nothing to rip it off her and devour her in the way I’ve wanted.
It took great restraint to tear my eyes from her crotch and I almost lost it when I found her staring down at me.
“Guess you can help yourself the rest of the way.”
I was out of the room before I convinced myself a woman looking at me through hooded eyes wanted me just as badly.
For all my claims and talks about discipline and self-control, I knew I couldn’t spend the night in the same room as her without compromising my values.
I doubled the time for my workout routine, pushing till I couldn’t feel my limbs, and the sight of Genevieve’s lace-covered pussy blurred beneath the accumulation of lactic acid.
It was six a.m. when I convinced myself I was exhausted enough to not make any moves at her before I headed back to my bedroom, only to find the subject of my frustration curled into a fetal position in one of my white shirts.
Her chest rose and fell softly, her body not stirring at the sound of intrusion. She looked so peaceful that I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her.
Plus, half her exhaustion could be attributed to how I let her work the whole day and only told her about the gala a few hours before the event.
I was a sucker for how a good workout pumped the muscles and a warm bath loosened them for the day ahead. I found myself dressing in silence to keep from waking the woman in my bed, and when I was ready, I still couldn’t bring myself to wake her.
Against my better judgment, I left instructions for my chef and driver and made my way to the office.
Nikolai was waiting in my office when I arrived. “Your PA is late.”
“Good morning, Nikolai.” I dumped my bag on my table and headed for the liquor cabinet.
“Isn’t it a bit too early for liquor?”
I pulled out the first drink my hand landed on. “Really? What time does the stomach open for alcohol?”
He didn't answer.
“So where’s your PA?”
Memories of them laughing and whispering last night resurfaced with a bitter burn. “Thought you had all the information you needed from the employee file?”
“Why would I go that far?”
I threw back a quarter glass of whisky. “You tell me. You seemed really cozy last night.”