Chapter 10
Dubai, two weeks ago…
Mikhail
The moment Katerina sailed out of the room, footsteps clicking loud and fast down the hallway, a hot and unwelcome sensation rolled through my blood. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t irritation either, but the kind of heat that settles low, tightens into a knot, and refuses to be drowned out by logic.
I didn’t follow her.
God help me, I wanted to.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I turned on my heel and went to my room, shutting the door with more force than necessary.
The silence inside the large, shadowed space was oppressive.
The desert wind rustled against the balcony glass, the sound too soft to cut through the image of her face.
I closed my eyes and relived the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened, and the way pride and desire and fury battled together until she had no choice but to run.
I paced back and forth across the room, boots whispering over the deep carpeting on the floor, with slow, controlled steps that did nothing to quiet the storm under my ribcage.
This was ridiculous.
I didn’t get flustered.
I didn’t chase.
And I sure as hell didn’t lose composure over a woman who seemed to barely tolerate me.
But Katerina Volkov was not a simple woman.
I stopped at the minibar, unscrewed the cap on a crystal vodka bottle, and poured a generous shot into a glass.
I downed it without hesitation. The burn hit hard enough to make my eyes sting, not from the alcohol—no, that went down like water—but from the frustration coiling through my every muscle.
I poured another. Then another.
None of it helped.
My mind kept circling back to her, her sharp tongue, her sharp mind, her sharp everything. A beautiful, dangerous, fiery little thing, and I couldn’t forget that Viktor had touched her first, which only made the need settling in my gut even more infuriating.
I snarled under my breath and headed straight for the bathroom.
The shower sprayed cold water first. I stripped and stepped under it, letting the icy shock slap my skin and drag me back to reality, but the cold didn’t do a damned thing. Her voice still echoed in my ears. That sarcasm. That heat. The look she gave me before she fled.
I twisted the knob most of the way to scalding hot. The water flipped from ice to fire, steam filling the glass enclosure. I braced my palms on the tiles, letting the heat sink in and the tension push out through my spine.
My body didn’t care about my attempts at control. My desire for her wasn’t weakening. It was strengthening with each passing second.
“This is absurd,” I muttered to the steam.
I shut the water off, dried myself with rushed, irritated motions, and threw on clean clothes. Black shirt, black trousers. Simple, easy, something I could move in if necessary. Something that wouldn’t betray the storm unfurling underneath my skin.
I needed to confront my brothers. Not about her, but about the mission. The only thing that mattered.
Or so I kept telling myself.
The living area hummed with the muted tones of soft music and glasses clinking. Viktor was sprawled across a couch like he owned the whole space. Andrei was perched on the armrest beside him, scrolling on his phone.
Both looked up the moment I entered.
Viktor’s grin spread slow and wide. “There he is. The brooding king of self-control.”
Andrei smirked. “You took a while. Shower, drink, or both?”
“None of your business,” I snapped, taking a seat across from them.
Viktor laughed. “Oh, it’s absolutely our business.”
Both of my brothers exchanged a knowing look.
Andrei put his phone away. “Mikha. You need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop pretending,” Viktor said. “You’ve wanted to fuck her since you first laid eyes on her. Everyone in this hemisphere could feel it.”
I glared at him. “Watch your mouth.”
“Oh, so you don’t deny it?” Viktor shot back with mock innocence.
Andrei leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Look. We get it. She’s… a prize.” His mouth quirked. “More than that even. But the way you talked to her? You can’t throw out lines like that and then go hide in a shower like a Victorian maiden.”
“I was not hiding.”
“Sure,” Viktor drawled. “And I didn’t sleep with her.”
I didn’t hit him.
That’s how I knew I still had some restraint left.
Andrei snorted. “He’s flustered. I’ve never seen you flustered. Not like this.”
“I am not flustered.”
“You are,” Viktor said cheerfully. “And honestly? It’s adorable.”
I shot them both a glare so lethal it would have cut down lesser men. They ignored it.
Viktor stood, clapped a hand on my shoulder, and grinned down at me. “Stop being a little bitch and go kick down her door.”
Andrei chimed in immediately, “Well, you don’t have to kick it down, but yeah. Viktor’s right. Stop being a little bitch.”
I stared at both of them incredulously.
“You two are insufferable.”
“We learned from the best,” Andrei snorted.
Viktor spread his arms wide. “Face it, Mikha. You want her. She wants you. She wants all three of us, probably. And you’re here trying to drown yourself in vodka instead of doing something productive like pinning her against the wall and dicking her down.”
My jaw clenched.
Viktor nudged me with his foot. “So? Just go already.”
Andrei smirked. “Unless you’re scared.”
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly across the floor.
“Screw both of you,” I muttered.
They grinned in unison.
Andrei leaned back, smug. “We’ll still be here when you’re finished.”
With a sneer, I turned and walked down the hallway.
Straight toward the guest room where a certain young woman was hiding out.
I stopped in front of her door, jaw tight, my pulse pounding harder than it had any right to. I tried the door handle and unsurprisingly, it was locked.
I knocked once. Hard.
“Katerina.”
Silence.
I knocked again. “Open the door.”
A beat. Then her voice, muffled through the wood, dripping with sarcasm.
“Go away, Dragunov.”
My fingers flexed against the frame. “I came to give you what you want.”
“That’s funny,” she said. “Last I checked, what I wanted was to be left alone.”
“You don’t want that.”
“You don’t know what I want.”
“I know exactly what you want.”
“Oh, really? Enlighten me.”
“You want me,” I said. “Open the door.”
She made a sound, half scoff, half dry amusement. “If you’re here to flirt, try again. Preferably with someone else.”
“I’m not flirting with you.”
“Yes, you are,” she retorted. “And you’re terrible at it.”
I stepped closer to the door. “Open. The. Door.”
“No.”
“Katerina.”
“No.”
“I’m not leaving,” I warned.
“Then enjoy the hallway for as long as you like.”
I closed my eyes, counted to three, failed to reach four. “If you don’t open this door,” I threatened her quietly, “I will kick it down.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I dare a lot of things.”
Her laugh was quick and breathy. “Try it. I’ll stab you with the knife I smuggled in my boot.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
“Clearly.”
I pressed my hand flat against the wood, feeling the thrum of my own irritation, of my own arousal spiraling out of my control. My cock was hard as a rock, straining to break free from my slacks.
“Open it,” I demanded.
“Make me.”
“Katya,” I snarled, voice rougher than I intended, “I’m warning you.”
“Warn me harder, big boy.”
That did it.
My patience snapped like a frayed wire.
I stepped back, planted my heel, and drove the weight of my other leg straight into the lock.
The sound was violent. The wood splintered, and the entire frame gave way with a crack that echoed through the hallway. The door swung inward, hanging crooked on one hinge, while slivers of shattered wood fell onto the floor like pieces of broken bone.
I stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling, heat tearing through me like I’d run a whole fucking marathon.
And then I saw her.
She was on the bed, lying back against a mound of pillows, a sheet pulled up to her collarbones, bare shoulders glowing in the dim light.
Her hair spilled loose around her face, tousled, tempting, a dark halo against white linen.
Her eyes went wide and she clutched the sheet a bit tighter in her fist.
It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything under the sheet.
I could tell from the flush that colored her face, the fact I’d seen her snatch her hand away from between her legs, and the hard points of her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of the sheet.
She’d been touching herself.
Naughty girl…
For one long, burning moment, neither of us moved.
Her chin lifted.
My breath locked in my chest.
“Well,” she said slowly, “you really kicked it down then.”
I stepped over the ruined door, gaze locked on hers. “I told you I would.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
“You should stop underestimating me. I always do as I say I will.”
She swallowed, the sheet shifting slightly with the movement. “So,” she said, voice quieter now, “what are you going to do now that you’re here?”
Everything inside me pulled taut.
Anger. Desire. Want. Need. All of it twining together into a much more dangerous thing.
For a long moment, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Her eyes tracked my every motion, pupils wide, lips parted just slightly. She looked like trouble wrapped in innocence, lying there under that thin sheet, pretending she wasn’t baiting me on purpose.
I stepped closer, just enough for her breath to hitch again. “You know,” I said, letting my voice drop, “I should spank you.”
Her fingers tightened on the sheet. “Maybe you should.”
Heat punched through me like a fist.
“And what would you do if I did?” I asked
She swallowed, throat bobbing. “Depends,” she said softly. “Would you stop at one?”
“No,” I said. “I wouldn’t.”
The sheet rose slightly as she pulled it tighter to her chest and I could see the exact moment she realized she’d pushed me too far and not far enough at the same time.
“Mikhail,” she murmured.
“Yes?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“I’m deciding,” I answered.
“About what?”