Page 2 of Caught By the Bratva Beast

His eyebrows raise, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know you had any interest in tech.”

I reach for the shimmering glass of white wine, fingers twining around the thin stem as I take a sip, savoring the citrus notes. “I would be a fool not to be. Advances in technology are the way of the future. Even if we ignore the cloud computing you focus on and take a look at the human capital management systems you’ve created, they’re outstanding.”

The lines at the corners of his eyes crease, interest sparking in his gaze. “Alright, let’s say I’m having a problem with an aspect of that particular software. I think that the percentages may be skewing higher on an employee’s profile, making them seem more profitable than they are. What would be your first step to fix this?”

“Assuming the calculations your program runs are correct?”

“Yes. Say, for example, Maxim Orlov is using my software to maintain the productivity of his blackjack dealers.”

My spine stiffens, my body drawing tense at the mention of Maxim Orlov, but I brush it off by leaning closer, pretending to be deeply invested in the topic at hand, waiting for Noah to finish his scenario.

He pauses long enough for the waiter to take our orders before looking back at me. “Where was I?”

“We were talking about the productivity of blackjack dealers.”

“Yes.” He steeples his fingers beneath his chin, watching me intently. His eyes dart around my face and body like he can’t quite decide where to look before he settles on my eyes. “We’ve checked the calculation, and they seem to be right, so why do you think the percentages are skewed?”

“Someone found a flaw in the system. If, say, they were reporting their numbers, it would be easy enough to change say thirty wins for the house to ten wins for the player to thirty-one and nine. Or I would think that you could have someone on the backend altering numbers after the fact, especially, if there are bonuses given based on performance.”

Noah’s hands drop and he reaches for his glass of red, swirling the deep berry liquid around before taking a sip. “You may be right about that.”

“That’s only given that there are two determining factors, but if the numbers are right, then it’s usually human interference.”

“And what do you think of the use of such a program in say a medical field?”

“Efficient medical care is lacking. If you were to start tracking numbers like that, say, patients, condition, and how long it takes to triage and treat that condition upon admittance, then you may be able to create an efficient hospital while still providing proper healthcare.”

“I have to admit,” he says, his tone low and slow, the glance he gives me appraising. “You’re not what I expected from a dinner companion. I’ve gone on several outings in the last couple of weeks, and none were as outspoken with their ideas or as receptive to hypotheticals.”

My lips curve along the rim of my glass in a secretive look that only the two of us share.

“If I were you, I would keep that fact to yourself. Demand for my time is already high. If other powerful men knew I was intelligent, I would have to beat them off with a stick just to get some time with you.”

He’s playing right into the palm of my hand as our food appears in front of us. “I’ll be sure to keep your secret then. I wouldn’t want anyone to jeopardize our time together.”

I take a small piece of the garlic butter lobster, letting the flavors melt on my tongue, before following it with a thin slice of the rosemary-infused steak.

Noah swipes one of his scallops through the creamy lemon sauce on his plate. “How is the food?”

“This has to be one of the best dinners I’ve had in a long time.” I reach for my napkin and dab the corner of my mouth. “I hope you didn’t have to go to too much trouble to get us a reservation for tonight. I know it was rather last-minute.”

He shakes his head, swirling another morsel of food around on his plate. “I’m the owner.”

“And here I thought your talents were only in tech.”

His warm chuckle and the gleam in his eyes have me thinking that his mind has moved past dinner and gone solely to what might come after it, should he play his cards right.

Noah leans closer, spearing a scallop and holding it out to me. “You must try this. It’s divine.”

Slowly, I open my mouth and wrap my lips around the fork. His gaze flares with desire, his body moving closer to mine as I take my time sliding the bite off the end of the fork.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this night to end,” he says, returning to his food and finishing it off. “I’ve barely begun to scratch the surface with you.”

It’s a subtle hint, but the meaning is there.

The corner of my mouth curves as I down the last sip of wine in my glass. “I’m afraid I have to meet a friend early in the morning.”

His face smooths into an unreadable mask—the disappointment hidden before I could fully register it. “Well then, I better see you home. Perhaps another night?”

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