Page 35 of Sinful Games

She scoffed, crossing her arms with a glare sharp enough to cut. "I don’t know what twisted fantasy you're living in, but I’m not one of your easy lays. There’sno wayin hell I’m stepping foot in your arrogant little man cave, Romaniev."

My eyes drifted over her face, soaking in those high cheekbones and full, rosy lips. That tiny beauty mark just below her lower lip was practically begging to be noticed. Her brows were furrowed in a fierce frown, and, fuck, she looked even hotter when she’s pissed off. It was driving me crazy, how her anger made her even more irresistible.

It fucking annoyed me how much I couldn’t look away.

“It’s just dinner, Caia. Relax, I’m not asking you to strip naked—though, I wouldn’t exactly complain,” I winked.

She shot me a dark glare. "Just dinner? Oh please, like I haven’t heard that line a million times. Take me home, Romaniev."

I leaned in with a smirk. “How about we make a deal?”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “What kind of deal?”

"I’ll make us dinner—a steak with potatoes," I offered. "And if you don’t like it, I’ll drive you straight home. Deal?"

She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "I told you, I don’t eat meat. It makes me feel awful. You’ve got the memory of a sieve, don’t you?"

I cupped her chin, my fingers lingering on her skin. "Trust me, I doubt I’ll ever forget anything about you, Caia."

For a few intense seconds, the air between us seemed to hum with a dark energy. Her eyes locked with mine, and I felt a spark of something fierce and dangerous.

Something sinful.

She let out a breath. “Romaniev?—”

I pulled my hand away. “Salmon it is, then. Let’s go before I end up dragging you out of this car like a fucking caveman.”

She sighed, defeated but intrigued. “Fine, but it better be the best salmon I’ve ever had.”

“Challenge accepted, princess.”

She stepped out of the car, and as she closed the door behind her, I grabbed her bag and slung it over my shoulder.

With a wink, I led the way to my place.

I carefully reached for two sleek plates, laying a bed of rice beside the perfectly cooked salmon. With precision, I dolloped generous scoops of my special honey-mustard sauce atop the salmon, then garnished it delicately with fresh dill.

Balancing the plates, I brought them over to the table.

From the hallway, Caia emerged, a sly smile playing on her lips. She took in the almost barren interior with a mix of exaggerated curiosity and mock horror.

“Your place is quite...” She paused, as if struggling to find the right words for this minimalist masterpiece. “...sterile. Like a museum for people who hate color.”

Taking in the space, my gaze swept across the living room framed by large windows showcasing the cityscape and snowy streets. A massive beige couch faced the TV, a sleek whitekitchen sat nearby, and a wooden dining table was topped by a stunning chandelier. It was bare, lacking personal touches, but that emptiness was exactly what I craved—it kept my mind uncluttered, serene.

I gestured for her to join me. "I rarely spend time here."

Pulling out the chair, I indicated for her to take a seat, and she did so graciously, offering a soft thank-you.

When she entered my place earlier, she gasped when her eyes landed on the chandelier and asked me how much it was worth. To be honest, I had no fucking clue, so I just shrugged. Then I started cooking, allowing her to wander around and absorb the space.

"Why?"

I lifted my glass to my lips—just water, because apparently, I’m a saint tonight. I needed to stay sharp around her; couldn’t afford to let things get messy. The last thing I wanted was to confuse what I wanted with what I was ready to risk.

So, as much as I’d rather be drowning in something stronger, I settled for water.

“I prefer the condos near the office,” I said, taking a bite of the salmon and savoring the taste. “You know, closer to work and all that.”

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