Page 36 of Diamond Don

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I’m too weak to maintain any dignity or any sense of self-control when it comes to him. The overwhelming desire I feel for him takes over, and I forget all else.

If there were any hope of ever getting this maddening feeling under control, surely I’d have been able to do so earlier today when I learned his real, terrifying identity—after being abducted and practically violated by the man.

But none of it mattered once I felt his hands on me and the mouthwatering scent of his skin invaded me.

There might be no fighting or controlling this craving, which is not only unacceptable but also dangerous. I don’t have the time or the energy to deal with this bullshit. A.J. needs me, and the stronzo and I have unfinished business.

Nik is a nuisance and a distraction I can’t afford right now. The stakes are too high.

Truthfully, even if I had no other problems, I still wouldn’t want Nikolai in my life. Sure, the man is fun as hell in bed, but he isn’t worth the trouble. The very last thing I want or need is to become romantically involved with a freaking mafia boss. I’ve had enough interactions with the type to last me a lifetime.

Even if Nik’s occupation had been something else entirely, he still wouldn’t be someone I want in my life long-term. During the limited time we’ve spent together, he has repeatedly shown me how overbearing and controlling he can be. There’s no doubt about it—with him, it’s either his way or the highway. No questions allowed.

The mind-blowing sexual connection between us doesn’t make up for his personal faults. I could never fall for a man as unbearably domineering as he is. Not now, not ever.

I learned a long time ago what happens when you let undeserving people have complete control and absolute power over you and your life. It’s not a mistake I have let myself repeat since then—not in the last twenty years. I certainly don’t plan on changing that now—or ever.

My best course of action is to treat this situation as just another job. I must avoid any distractions and focus on the task at hand. The sooner I give Nikolai what he needs from me, the sooner I will be rid of him.

I finish rearranging my clothes as best I can and tie my hair in a loose knot. When I walk out of this room and step further into the lion’s den, I will look as professional as possible. With any luck, that should put Nik and me in the right frame of mind.

15

KAT

I walk toward the door that Nik exited through. I’m surprised to find it unlocked. It would be just like him to play infuriating mind games with me.

After a moment of hesitation, I step out onto the empty hallway. Just like the bedroom, its walls are a soft off-white color. The cold marble floors from my gilded prison cell also cover the corridor’s length.

I follow the distant sounds coming from the opposite side of the penthouse. The hallway leads to an open sitting area. No one is around, so I keep walking, looking for Nik.

As I cross the sitting area, the smell of coffee and spices beckons me. I follow the scents, and the sounds grow louder. Finally, I walk through a doorway that leads to a kitchen. I expect to find a housekeeper or cook looming around, but instead, I spot Nik.

His back is turned to me, and I study him for a second as he moves around. He opens and closes cabinets, searching for something.

Nik doesn’t notice me so I continue to watch him in silence. He’s dressed in a black cashmere sweater that temptingly molds to the planes and ridges of his back as he reaches for a wine glass on a high shelf.

His matching black jeans hang low on his narrow hips, the fabric deliciously hugging his ass. Against my better judgment, I find myself staring.

I’m so uncharacteristically distracted by the sight of him in these jeans—trying to recall if I have ever grabbed his ass—that it startles me when he turns around and faces me.

“Oh, there you are. Finally,” he says, a friendly expression on his face. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” I say, my mind still sidetracked by him. “What are we having?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I warmed up everything we have—except for the sushi, of course.” He shrugs, gesturing to a dozen dishes spread out over the kitchen island.

“Wow,” I say. There’s enough food here to feed a large family. Some dishes I can’t identify but there are some classics, too, like fettuccine Alfredo.

“Did you make all of this?” I ask, incredulous. I walk up to the kitchen island for a closer look. Everything looks amazing.

He scoffs. “Hell, no. I can’t fry an egg to save my life. But don’t worry, Irina is an outstanding cook.”

“Who’s Irina?” I ask before I can stop myself, my voice ringing louder than I intended. Nikolai raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, he doesn’t make any snide comments.

“Irina’s my chef. She’s been working for me for over ten years now.” He places his hand on the small of my back before squeezing past me to reach the oven to my left. “Excuse me, I have to get the lasagna out of the oven.”

A delicious shiver runs up my spine at the slight touch, but I pretend I don’t feel anything, and he doesn’t seem to notice.

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