Page 17 of Monstrous Urges

“I hope I’m not interrupting…”

I jolt when I hear the voice behind me. Whirling, I stiffen and flush a little when I see the man standing tall, filling the doorway of Alistair’s office with both his imposing size and his raw power.

Drazen Krylov is a relatively new client of ours. I rarely interact with him, since Alistair and his team handle most of his affairs. But I know his reputation. And his history.

Both are fucking terrifying.

The physically imposing Serbian is the head of the—newly reconstituted, I hear—Krylov Bratva. He also was allegedly a child soldier in the Balkan conflicts in former Yugoslavia in the 90s.

I have no idea if that second part is true, but the man radiates a dark power that swallows the light of every room he walks into.

He’s also freaking gorgeous.

Tall, broad-shouldered and muscled, with a Henry Cavill jawline, piercing blue eyes, and dark black hair. Since he really does look like dear Henry, and given his imposing, fierce look, Fumi and I have joked that he’s “evil Superman” on several occasions.

Tall, powerful, insanely wealthy, gorgeous—and possibly a mass murderer and committer of war crimes.

So, pretty much the king of Sexy Walking Red Flag-land.

Alistair clears his throat as he pushes past me to shake Drazen’s hand firmly, the back of which is covered in what is pretty obviously Bratva ink.

“Not at all, Mr. Krylov. Please, have a seat. May I get you a drink?”

“Vodka, straight up, thank you.”

When Alistair walks back over to the bar cart, Drazen pulls his icy blue gaze to me. I stay perfectly still, never dropping the calm, professional smile.

On the inside, I’m withering.

I mean the man is insanely hot, not to mention powerful and downright dangerous. I have at least a dozen clients just like him, of course, but there’s something different about the Serbian.

Something…more.

“Well,” I smile. “I’ll get out of your hair?—”

“You’re not staying, Ms. Crown?”

“Oh, I don’t think we need her,” Alistair chuckles, passing Drazen a tumbler of vodka. “You wanted to talk about zoning law, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Well, I did. But I think there are more pressing things to discuss right now, are there not?”

Alistair glances at me. I glance at him.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Mr. Krylov,” I say cautiously.

His brows arch. “You haven’t heard, then?”

Alistair frowns. “About…?”

“The hostile takeover attempt.”

Alistair scowls deeper. “This is the first I’m hearing about it, I’m afraid. Who exactly is trying to take over your?—”

Drazen chuckles quietly, a low rumbling sound that sucks all the oxygen out of the room.

“You misunderstand, Mr. Black,” he growls. “I mean the hostile takeover attempt of your business.”

My heart skips. My face goes numb.

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