Page 43 of Frequency of Attraction

She blinked at her phone, registering six a.m. and that Hadrian’s name had popped up on a Google alert. She rolled onto her back and swiped open, dread building. Waiting to see what kind of trouble her family had gotten into was her least favorite part of the job.

Chi, an Italian gossip magazine, had posted a headline.Federica Ferrari steps out with billionaire bad boy Hadrian Moreau. Bad boy was a bit of a stretch. Hadrian just had poor taste in women and too much taste for booze. He was rakish and charming and clean cut—hardly a bad boy. Quinn quickly researched this Federica, praying to God she wasn’t married.

She wasn’t. She wasn’t a socialite, either, though she was related tothoseFerraris. Federica worked for her family’s company, an executive like Quinn. Hadrian actually had something in common with this woman. She used her fingers to enlarge the picture on the cover ofChi. The two were leaving a restaurant in Cannes, hands clasped, Hadrian’s head thrown back in laughter.

Miracles did happen. First, her orgasm, followed by a second, and now Hadrian had found a woman who wasn’t bad for him?

Quinn took a screenshot to send to him.For once, I approve.

His answer came immediately.Quinnnnnnn. Being with her is heaven. This has been the best week of my life, he gushed.

She smiled.I’m happy for you, cousin.

Quinn yawned but didn’t bother trying to reclaim her last hour of sleep before she needed to be up for work. Instead, she opened her email. Her stomach flipped when she saw the PI’s name in her inbox. His email was short, studded with photos, and exactly what she wanted to see.

I found them. Call me when you get a chance.

Thank God it was three hours ahead in Boston. Quinn sat up and dialed his number.

“It’s Quinn,” she said when he answered. “Thank you for letting me know. What did you find out?”

“The grandmother and the little girl are here. I’ve seen no trace of the mother, Annika. Little Mila is three, enrolled in a preschool. That’s how I found them. The elder Mila works at a Russian bakery in Eastie. They live near there, too.”

“I want to contact the grandmother. How should I do that?”

“Call the bakery? It’s called Pastila. She speaks English. You should go in next time you’re in town. Get the sharlotka. Apple cake.”

Quinn thanked him again and hung up. Time to set things between Vadim and Mila in motion.

She didn’t have the nerve to tell him right away. Not even when he brought her to her third orgasm the following week. The man had installed a mirror on the fucking ceiling of his bedroom. He’d bought a floor mirror, too.

She came in minutes to the sight and feel of his tongue massaging her nipple while his fingers worked her clit in smooth circles. The vision in the mirror of his hulking, marked body covering hers, the muscles rippling and moving for her pleasure, broke her into fragments.

Vadim had been right. She loved watching him.

Quinn didn’t see him again until the end of Thursday. From what she’d heard, he’d been locked in the sim for hours, running through brutal training exercises with Thomas. Or maybe Vadim had set the schedule himself. He accepted the teasing about his fainting in the trainer, but she knew that he did not accept failure from himself.

He appeared at her office door shortly after five, leaning against her doorframe in that sure, casual way that drove her wild. Vadim owned any room he was in. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, which he’d paired with a polo that barely contained his biceps. The open collar showed the stacked skulls of the Roman catacombs on his breastbone. She’d licked that very spot the night before. They hadn’t had sex since that first night Operation Orgasm had succeeded, but they’d traded other very delicious favors. She’d also gotten on the pill, just in case.

“How are you feeling?”

Quinn had no idea what he meant by the question. After a long day? After breaking the orgasm barrier for the third time? About him? But, she realized with a jolt, the vague question offered her the perfect opportunity.

“I’m feeling like I want to get away for the weekend. Interested?”

His eyebrows reached for his hairline. Just last night, she’d traced the constellations tattooed up there with her nails. He’d purred like a kitten. Soft, just like she’d said.

“A weekend away? Together? Where?”

Ooh, this might be harder than she thought. “I’m missing Boston.”

His jaw clenched, pulling the tendrils of ink on his neck higher.

“I realize it could be hard visiting a town that might have a connection to your daughter. But an entire house, just the two of us…” Quinn stood and made her way to the door. To him. His stance didn’t change as she approached, but his breathing did. She lowered her voice to a whisper he had to lean in to catch. “I came for you three times now. I do believe you owe me a proper fuck, V.”

A rumble sounded from his chest. “I do.”

She knew it cost him to stay still and nonchalant while he made unchaste promises. He liked to demonstrate.

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