Page 10 of Stolen By the Bratva King

Her face is poised as she speaks. “Do you mind if I record our conversation today?”

She’s amusing me already. I arch an eyebrow. “Getting down to business just like that?”

Her eyes flutter up to meet mine. Her lashes are thick and sexy. We stare at each other a moment, unspeaking, sizing each otherup. “Maybe I should start by saying how grateful I am that you saved my life the other day.”

I nod once. “That would be a good start.”

Humor flints in her eyes. She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable. “Humble isn’t your finest quality, is it?”

I offer a shrug. “I prefer my finer traits to be about getting ahead and staying on top. Call it a survival tactic if you will.”

“And what exactly are you trying to get ahead of?” she asks.

My eyes skate to her phone in her lap and when she catches me looking at it, she crosses her other leg and says, “don’t worry, I’m not recording unless you give me consent.”

There’s a consent I want from her, but it has nothing to do with conducting a meeting like this. There’s a dent in her thigh from the muscle tone, and it runs up her leg like a carving. I force my eyes to look away.

When I meet her gaze, she’s studying me. She keeps catching me in the act when I steal too long glances at her. I take a deep breath and clear my throat, grabbing a pen off my desk. I click it repeatedly.

“Do I make you nervous?” Her brows arch as if she’s surprised at this new development.

Only because you make me horny,I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut on that front.

Our conversation is briefly interrupted by Sonya scurrying into the office carrying two piping hot Styrofoam cups of coffee.

She sets one on my desk and hands the other to Hazel, who thanks her, and cups it with two hands before blowing on it. Iwatch her mouth as it curves into an oval shape. A low, pulsing throb begins to ache between my legs. Everything this woman is doing is sensual and turning me on, and she’s not even trying. It’s frustrating me.

The second Sonya is gone, I look at Hazel. “Do I makeyounervous?” I boomerang her question back to her to distract myself from those sexy, red painted lips. I want those lipstick stains all over my mouth, my jaw, peppering down my neck.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and casts her gaze to her lap. Her thick lashes flutter as she blinks.

“I’m just trying to do my job,” she recites to her folded hands resting in her lap.

“And what exactly does that job entail?” I wonder.

She lifts her head. “I’m a journalist.”

“Ah.” I nod.

“I take it you’re not a big fan of journalists?” She quizzes.

“Indifferent, I suppose. Unless they are spying inside my warehouses looking for trouble.” I give her a knowing look.

A hint of a smile tugs at her lips. If she can sense that I’m trying to flirt with her, she doesn’t prevent me from doing it. Part of me wonders if she’s permitting it because she’s trying to appeal to me to get what she wants. I’ve seen these games before. I know how to play the pawns.

“Are you involved in the illegal weapons trade that has been tainting this city?”

I lean back in my chair and swivel back and forth. “That’s an awfully presumptuous question to ask.”

She shrugs as if my question rolls right off her back. “I’m just trying to get the facts.”

“You’re certainly recovered from your little scare,” I note.

“Yes well,” she shifts her weight. I watch her bottom lift slightly off the chair as she does it. My pulse hammers. I notice a slight edge to her tone. “I can’t dwell on it. I have to move on.”

“I admire your strength,” I say and mean it.

She drops her phone back into her purse and looks at me with a hardness in her professional features. She’s growing impatient.

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