Page 9 of Preferential Treatment

“Why me?” she asked. The question came out too raw, unguarded. She quickly schooled her expression back into dispassionate calm. “Why not hire a professional? A man of your means could have anybody in the world.”

“Yes, I could,” he agreed, a touch of arrogance hardening that cool mask. “But there are women to whom this comes naturally, and that’s what I want.”

“You think this comes naturally to me?” She wasn’t sure if she was offended or not.

“Command? Self-possession? A complete disregard for my authority?” A faint smile tilted the corner of his mouth. “Yes. I think those things come naturally to you. There are plenty of women who’d be happy to play the part, but that’s all it would be—a performance. Not real dominance.” The last few words slipped out with more emotion than she’d yet heard from him. Hunger and need. The heat of them washed over Kate, warming her deep inside.

She took a second to steady herself, licking her lips. Mikhail’s dark eyes tracked the movement. The cold mask fell away entirely, revealing a raw combination of hunger, pleasure, wistfulness.

“Please,” he said softly. That deep, graveled, Russian accent coasted over her senses like the rasp of calloused hands. Mikhail’s eyes searched her face, growing heated as he observed her response. “Please, knyazhna. Own me.”

He gazed up at her, still on his knees, hands still clasped behind his back. His shirt strained across his broad shoulders and chest, while his thighs tested the confines of his trousers. He was big and strong and so harshly masculine—and he was kneeling at Kate’s feet, relinquishing all that power to her.

It was difficult to focus with that appealing offer laid before her, but she needed to think. She was tempted to accept the offer, regardless of the money, simply on the grounds that she wanted this.

But he was her boss. And not just her boss, but the founder and CEO of the entire company. And he wasn’t just some plebeian millionaire CEO. He was one of the richest men in the world, his net worth over fifty billion. No matter how much power he handed over to Kate, she was still the one with everything to lose.

Even so, the money was an unholy temptation. She didn’t technically need it anymore. He wasn’t firing her from her job, so she’d still have her regular income. And after talking to Anna’s friend Naomi on the phone, she’d agreed to a roommate arrangement, starting next week, so she no longer had to worry about covering all of the rent on her own. But she was still living with a mountain of debt, and the amount of money Mikhail was offering—five grand a week—amounted to nearly four times her yearly salary.

Some faint, sensible part of her mind screamed at her to walk away. She knew she ought to listen.

“Soliciting sexual favors from your employees is wrong,” Kate finally said, her tone ice-cold.

She hadn’t realized how much Mikhail’s expression had opened up until that moment. Suddenly, the vulnerability, the hope, the desire, was gone. He was back to closed inscrutability. He released his hands from behind his back and started to rise. Kate stopped him by planting her foot against his chest. The point of her heel rested directly over his heart.

He froze, looking up at her with a confused frown.

She reached into her bag, pulling out the file with the signed NDA, and dropping it on his desk. “Did I tell you you could get up?”

And then the heat was back. His face didn’t shift dramatically, but the hot gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He sank back down, hands behind his back again, and bowed his head. “I’m sorry, knyazhna.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Kate drew her foot back, returning it to the floor. “I should punish you for your disgusting behavior.”

His gaze flew to hers, bright and hungry, before he quickly cast it back down. “Yes, knyazhna.”

A hot thrill ran down Kate’s spine. She stared down at him, arms crossed. “Before this goes any further, tell me your safeword.”

Mikhail shook his head, brows drawing together. “I don’t have one. I don’t want one.”

“Well, I want one. So consider this a command—give me a safeword.”

He gazed up at her, sullen reluctance warring with his obvious desire to continue. “Choose one for me.”

Kate shrugged. “Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for keep going. Okay?”

“Yes, alright,” he huffed, clearly having no intention of using them.

“If I ask for a color, you better be prepared to answer me,” she snapped.

Her tone blotted the sullenness out of his gaze. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”

“Alright. Give me a color then.”

His lips quirked, bemused but still game. “Green.”

“Good boy.” She let her gaze track over him, taking her time about it. “If I own you, I want to see my possession. Shirt off.”

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