Page 20 of Preferential Treatment

CHAPTER NINE

The next day at work, Kate got a calendar alert from somebody named Sarah Engels, tagging her for a spur-of-the-moment meeting in one of the conference rooms up on the executive floor later that afternoon. She wasn’t sure who Sarah Engels was, and suspected she’d been roped in for another one of those “we support women” bullshit developmental meetings that HR was always hosting, that never accomplished anything or went anywhere. It was just lip service to make it look like the company actually cared about equality or whatever.

If they cared about equality, maybe they could actually hire more women to leadership positions instead of badgering them into “managerial track” development programs that amounted to a bunch of unpaid labor and nothing to show for it. Maybe they should’ve promoted Kate to the department head position she’d applied for six months ago, instead of hiring some dumb kid straight out of college on the grounds that he had a bachelor’s degree and she didn’t. Like her decade of experience was nothing compared to two extra years of college classes and a big name internship.

Stop, she chided herself mentally. If she got her temper worked up before the stupid meeting even started, she’d end up getting into an argument. Last time she’d demanded to know how many of the program participants statistically went on to hold managerial positions at Domovoy. The presenter had weaseled out of answering with vague reassurances about “upward trends” and “positive outcomes.” Unsatisfied, Kate had pressed for hard numbers, flustering the presenter, until one of the HR managers had stepped in and told everyone to hold their questions for the end. (Guess who didn’t get called on when question time rolled around.)

Ten minutes before the appointed meeting, Kate suppressed a sigh and locked her computer. She took the stairs instead of the elevator so that she wouldn’t be trapped in there with any of the HR people. They were too friendly, in a meaningless small talk kind of way. It made Kate feel irrationally annoyed.

When she reached the conference room, the lights were off and the hallway was empty. She stepped inside hesitantly, wondering if she’d gotten the room wrong. The drapes had been pulled over the windows, making the room so utterly dark that Kate couldn’t see a thing. While her eyes adjusted, she felt along the wall for the light switches.

“Don’t.” A deep voice, a Slavic accent.

“Mikhail?”

“If you turn the lights on, you’ll give our hiding spot away.”

Kate bit her lip, trying to keep calm despite the frisson of excitement running up her spine. “A conference room is a terrible hiding spot.” Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. Mikhail was a pitch-black silhouette standing in front of the curtained windows.

“Not if the room is blocked out on the calendar and the door is locked.”

Kate smiled ruefully. Taking the hint, she quietly closed the door and clicked the lock into place. The sound seemed to echo through the conference room, loosening something inside Kate’s chest. She turned back to face him and swallowed a gasp. He’d crossed the room silently, standing just in front of her now. His face looked even harsher in the low light, all shadowed angles and hard lines.

Attempting to keep her cool, Kate lifted her chin, expression remote. “Who’s Sarah Engels? Does she know you’re using her account to set up fake meetings?”

“Sarah’s my personal assistant. She’d let me use her account to commit high treason if I wanted.”

“Careful, Russki. I could be a government mole.”

Mikhail gave her one of his rare smiles. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that she could see the details—the way his eyes creased at the corners, the slight crookedness of his canine teeth, the bristle of his five o’clock shadow coming in strong. “I’m too rich for consequences.”

Well, if that wasn’t a mood-killer, Kate didn’t know what was. She wasn’t sure how to reconcile wanting the money he was paying her while simultaneously resenting how much of it he had when too many people had too little. Was she a hypocrite? Nah, she thought with cynical amusement. I’m just redistributing his wealth.

She crossed her arms, gazing up at him with detached calm. “What was so important that you had to lure me here under false pretenses?”

“I want more,” he said, stepping closer.

She held her ground, refusing to let him corral her backwards. He wanted to trap her against the wall again—he was trying to provoke her into putting him in his place. “More what?”

He made an impatient sound, half growl and half sigh, as he loomed over her, close enough to kiss, if he’d only bend down. Not that she’d do it. She’d learned her lesson with that one. The embarrassment of doing it a second time might actually kill her.

“I want your control all the time. Whenever you want it—anything you want. Any time of day.”

Kate’s brows rose. “Anything?”

“Yes.”

“So, if I told you how to dress in the morning?”

“Yes,” he said thickly, pressing even closer to her.

“And if I said you have to get permission from me before you eat anything?”

“Yes.”

“What if I wanted you to send me compromising photos and videos of yourself?”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Yes.”

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