Page 5 of Accidentally Knocked Up By the Bratva

"After all," I continue, forcing myself to meet his gaze, "the goal is to create a space that suits your needs perfectly."

Abram raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "My needs, Zara? And what do you think those might be?"

I find myself caught off guard by Abram's playful banter. His charm is disarming, and I struggle to maintain my composure. I pray he can’t see through it, but from how he teases, something tells me he’s intelligent enough to have caught on.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way his voice seems to caress my name. "I… I'm not sure I should assume anything about your needs,” I find my words faltering, my voice hitching in my throat.

“I hardly spend any time in here,” he murmurs. “But when I do, I want it to be my sanctuary. My days can be … stressful.”

“A jacuzzi, perhaps,” I suggest. “And a reading corner right there,” I point toward the window. “A small desk for if you need to work late into the night. And no television.”

“No television?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I find it a distraction for busy people, which I assume you are one of,” I say, a little more confident in my tone now.

“That I am.” He nods. “I like that idea. No television. But what if… I have company?”

The blood rushes to my ears, the question suddenly jarring me to my core. So, he does have company sometimes. A beautiful, rotating bevy of beauties, I assume. “Well, your excellent company should suffice,” I retort rather snarkily.

He steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, but I notice the amusement in them. "What if she doesn’t share your excellent opinion?” he asks.

I pause, focusing on ensuring my mouth doesn’t hang open. Is he flirting with me? Not knowing what to say, all I can come up with is, “We can put a TV in the living room.”

He laughs rather generously. “Well, now that that’s settled, let's discuss art, shall we? What kind of pieces do you think would suit me, Zara?"

The way he says my name makes my breath catch. I know I should keep things professional, but I can't resist the challenge in his voice.

"Art that suits you?" I muse, my heart racing. "I imagine something… bold. Striking. Perhaps with hidden depths that reveal themselves slowly."

Abram's lips curve into an almost predatory smile. "Go on," he urges, his voice low and intimate.

I swallow hard, knowing I'm treading dangerous waters. "Something that demands attention," I continue, my voice barely above a whisper. "Impossible to ignore, even if you wanted to."

The tension between us crackles, electric and undeniable. I've never felt so off-balance, so utterly captivated by someone before. It's thrilling and terrifying all at once.

My mind races, searching for artists whose work embodies the essence I see in Abram. "I'm thinking of someone like Jackson Pollock," I breathe, my voice husky. "His work is chaotic yet controlled. Aggressive, but with an underlying sensuality."

Abram's eyes darken, and he takes another step closer. "Aggressive and sensual? Is that how you see me now?"

I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and it takes all my willpower not to lean into him. "I… yes," I admit, my cheeks flushing. "But there's more. Maybe a touch of Rodin's sculptures. Powerful, masculine forms carved from unyielding stone."

"You have quite the eye," Abram murmurs, his gaze trailing down my body. "What else? A Helmut Newton, perhaps?"

The air between us feels thick, charged with an energy I can't explain. My toes curl in my shoes as I struggle to maintain my composure. "Perhaps some Helmut Newton photography could do the trick," I say, my voice barely audible. "Provocative, daring. Pushing boundaries. I see what you mean.”

Abram's hand accidentally brushes my arm as he points at a wall, sending sparks across my skin. "I like the thought of pushing boundaries. The Newton should go right there."

I'm drowning in his presence, every logical thought evaporating under the intensity of his gaze. This conversation has become dangerous, irresistible, and I know I should stop. I need to find the will to pull away because if I don’t, I knowwe’re going to find ourselves slamming straight into dangerous territory.

My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the chaos in my mind. I take a shaky step back, nearly stumbling over my own feet. "I… I just remembered," I stammer, fumbling for my phone. "I have an urgent call scheduled with another client. I completely forgot."

Abram's brow furrows, concern etching lines across his forehead. "An urgent call?"

"Yes, of course," I lie, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's just… very important. I'm so sorry, but I really need to go. I’ll send over a pitch deck with all we’ve discussed."

I grab my bag, my fingers trembling as I struggle with the clasp. "I'll email you some preliminary ideas for the space," I say, my words tumbling out in a rush. "We can schedule another meeting to discuss them in more detail once you go through them.”

As I hurry toward the door, Abram's hand catches my elbow. "Zara, wait," he says, his voice low and intense. "Are you sure you're okay?"

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