Page 6 of Under Control

Right now, I’m a little bit more worried about the murder.

But only by a little bit.

He turns away from the pictures and sits down at the kitchen table. “Join me,” he says, again with that commanding tone.

I remain standing. “I didn’t invite you in here. You’re a total stranger. If this is about the mix-up from the other day?—”

“I’m here to offer you a job.”

That shuts me up. I grind my jaw, frustrated, but he’s only staring at me with a strange, neutral expression, almost like he’s bored. Like he barges into strange houses all the time.

“What kind of job?” I ask cautiously. “And who says I need one?”

“I assume you weren’t posing for Merrick for free. And something about you suggests that was your first time. Which, if I can follow the logic, suggests you need money. Am I wrong?”

I open my mouth and shut it again. I say nothing, only glare at him. I’m beyond furious, and honestly a little embarrassed again, but he’s absolutely right.

I really need money.

The stack of bills in the middle of the table isn’t really helping much right now.

“The girl Nikkita mentioned,” he starts, and I interrupt him.

“Your housekeeper, right? She said you were waiting for someone named Natalya?”

Valentin’s eyes narrow. He tenses and leans closer. “Please, do not interrupt me again.”

I gape, shocked at his sudden dark turn, but the look he’s giving me shuts my mouth again. The guy has a stare like an atomic bomb, like he’s contemplating how he can most easily eviscerate me.

Either that or how quickly he can tear off my clothes.

Murder and fuck vibe.

God damn it, Merrick. I hate him for putting that in my head.

“Are you going to pull a gun on me again if I do?” I blurt it out despite my fear, and I’m not sure which of us is more surprised.

He leans back in his chair and crosses his powerful arms. “I should not have done that, but in my line of work, it’s smart to be cautious of strangers. Even beautiful, naked women.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks and down between my legs. “What’s your line of work?” I ask, when what I really want to say isyou think I’m beautiful?

“Importing and protection services,” he says, deadpan.

“I don’t really have any importing or protection services experience.”

His head tilts and he licks his lips. “I never said I wanted to hire you for that.”

“Then what’s the job?”

“That girl, Natalya. She was coming to negotiate a union between her family and my own. However, it turns out she went missing and likely has gone on the run somewhere in Europe. Which means I need to find a replacement. You could say this is a way to save face and to ensure there aren’t unnecessary conversations happening behind my back.”

I try to process what he’s saying, but it doesn’t come together.

A union between families? On the run in Europe?

It doesn’t sound like he’s talking about a job right now.

“What exactly would my role be?” I ask him, afraid of the answer. My heart’s racing and my fingers tingle with nerves.

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