Page 2 of Vienna Bargain

“You know I could have done that for you,” Alena said. “The Fibonacci sequence, right?”

Alexander jerked the door open so hard he was briefly worried he’d break it. Holding it with one foot he hooked a hand under her arm and hauled her into the suite.

Lights clicked on when they entered, and another red indicator started blinking.

Once they were in he realized he should have taken her to the other suite. She’d been doing something to the server farm, and now he was walking her in to the very place she’d been trying to access.

He forced her wrists up until her body was bent at a ninety-degree angle, then nudged her forward.

“I can’t walk like this.”

“Yes, you can.”

Alexander steered her to the conference room. Elegant but not ornate the way the floors above were, the room had the requisite conference table, elegant high-backed chairs, and a lovely view of the park across the street.

There was a bank of electronics, as well as a small wet bar, hidden behind the paneling on the short wall.

Alexander pressed, and a panel popped open, revealing the electronics within. He reached in and grabbed a spare cord. He had no idea what it was for, and he didn’t care. He needed a way to restrain her, and electronic cables had been the first thing that came to mind.

Alexander guided her to his spot at the head of the table, a plush leather rolling chair with wooden arms. “Sit.”

Alena straightened when he released her wrists, and her gaze was pinched.

“Sit,” he said again, holding up the coil of black cable.

She stared at his hand, and for a moment he thought she might try and run. Fight.

If she did he’d fight back, pin her as he had before.

Unless she’s a professional corporate spy, then she might have some training.

He’d managed to pin her on the stairs, but what if that had just been luck?

The silence stretched, and with each moment his muscles tensed, ready to spring on her if she attempted escape.

She looked disheveled—half her hair was in a bun, that had slid down over one ear, the rest of it spilling around her shoulders in a messy tangle, thanks to his hands. She wore casual black leggings and a black long-sleeved top that hung down to her thighs.

Her gaze shifted from the door to him. She dropped her hands to her sides, the pashmina that she’d freed herself from falling to the floor.

Looking him in the eye, Alena sat in his chair, her hands resting lightly on the arms.

“Alexander, please let me explain.”

“No.”

“What happened between us as Dom and sub had nothing to do with what I was doing upstairs.”

Lying bitch. He ground his teeth. He needed to tie her to the chair, but he was afraid his hands would shake noticeably. He needed to calm down first. “What were you— What, exactly, were you doing?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Before he could reply—as he was still deciding whether to say “fuck you” or “of course you can’t” he heard a door open. Synchronized footsteps thudded through the offices.

Alexander moved away from the door as two men—covered head to toe in black, including tactical helmets with face shields—holding taser guns swept into the room. They were quickly followed by four more men. The first two checked the whole room, then positioned themselves on either side of Alena’s chair.

Some stupid part of him wanted to tell them to step back, away from his…

His what? His girl? His sub?

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