Page 45 of Diamond Don

We enter a large corner office. Nobody is in it but us. Nik lets go of my hand, quietly closing the door behind me. Curious, I glance around the room, surprised to realize it is quite cozy—or at least as cozy as an office big enough to fit half of my apartment inside can be.

The room is beautifully furnished with a massive mahogany desk and numerous built-in mahogany bookshelves. Countless leather-bound books and a few framed photographs populate the shelves.

A plush, oversized antique rug stretches over the floors. At the furthest corner from the door, there is a brown leather couch in front of a large, wall-mounted TV. Next to it sit two matching armchairs, with a large coffee table in the middle.

Intricate wall sconces invitingly illuminate Nik’s office. Their warm glow makes up for the room’s lack of natural light. Only a few rays of sunshine make it through the dark velvet blinds he has pulled down to cover the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows.

I’m not sure what I pictured his office would look like, but this cozy, comfortable, lived-in room isn’t it.

Besides the expensive furnishings, his office also sports little bits and pieces that shine a light on the man that occupies it. Multiple sheets of paper are haphazardly spread out over every flat surface available. I count at least five coffee mugs left around the room, plus a couple of half-empty whiskey glasses.

I’m surprised to see several personal objects as well. A soft-looking, slightly worn-out Kelly Green sweatshirt is crumpled on one of the armchairs. He has a framed sports jersey on the wall by his desk. I’m too far away to fully see the photographs all over the room, but he seems to be in many of them.

As a professional burglar, I’m used to making myself at home in the most unusual, unfamiliar places. But this room is so personal—so Nik—that I almost feel like I’m intruding. It’s a strange thought, made even stranger by the realization that by being here I’m stepping into his mind in a way and getting a sense of what makes him who he is.

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it—or about the fact that he invited me here himself.

It’s the perfect spot to advance my plans for his seduction. Yet, something about being in here with him gives me pause. Just like last night at dinner, this setting makes him look almost human. It’s almost easy to forget the man before me is one and the same with the Russian bratva’s pakhan—and the tall, dark, and handsome god who ravished me at the gala.

Unthinkably, seeing Nik in his natural habitat makes me hesitate about working him. For once, he’s not the larger-than-life man of my dirty dreams—he’s just a man. A dangerously hot one, but a human male, nonetheless. I have no qualms about deceiving Nik’s devilish don persona, but this mortal man before me is a different story altogether.

“Here,” Nik says, handing me a manila envelope.

“What is it?” I ask as I open it.

“Some stuff I think you’ll need. If there is anything I missed, let me know, and I’ll make sure you get it.”

The first thing I fish out of the package is a black American Express. With a loud gasp, I almost drop the entire thing.

I glance at Nik, but he has moved on already. He’s distracted with the TV, fussing with the remote.

“This is a credit card,” I state for mysterious reasons.

“Uh-huh,” he say, paying me no mind, frowning at the screen.

“It’s a black AmEx. With my name on it.” I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that this man has given me a no-limit credit card out of his own free will.

“I know. It’s for any expenses you may have when I’m not with you. There should be more in there. I gave Dmitri a list.”

More? What else could I possibly need?

I pull out the heaviest object inside the envelope. It’s a car key with a beautiful, shiny three-point star. I gasp. “You’re giving me a Mercedes?”

“Lending it. It’s in the garage. I’ll show you how to access it later,” he says, almost as an afterthought. As if he’s in the business of lending practical strangers luxury vehicles every day. For all I know, he might very well be.

I’m still daydreaming about all the places I’ll drive it to so I can use my shiny new card when Nik starts speaking to me again.

“You will probably not have much use for it.” He shrugs. “I’d rather you let me or one of my men take you wherever you need to go.”

My first instinct is to protest against his remarkably controlling request, but thinking twice about it, I decide to let this one slide so he doesn’t get any ideas about taking my new credit card away.

“I’ll take that under advisement, boss,” I say instead with a smile. He shoots me an unamused look before turning his attention back to the TV again.

The next object I take out of the envelope is a stack of papers. I leaf through it, skimming through the documents verbiage, curious about what other little treats Nik has in store for me.

“It’s your account information.” His voice sounds closer than I expect. I’m so distracted by the papers that I didn’t notice he has closed the distance between us.

“My account?” I ask, dumbfounded.

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