Page 17 of Taming Mika

“I am not your plaything,” I snap, reaching down to button my jeans as I take another step back. “You might not respect your marriage bed, but I have more self-respect than to let you use me like that.”

“Mika,” Alfie says, his voice straining out my name in a warning, and I shudder involuntarily.

He takes a step closer, and I take another step back.

“No, Alfie,” I command, forgetting to call him Mr. Bonetti in the heat of the moment. “You need to start treating me like the professional I am, or?—”

“Or what,” he responds, cutting me off, and for once, there’s no smirk on his face.

Despite his tone, my body is screaming in protest at being so aroused and stopping short of satisfaction. I need to get the hell out of here before I do something more I’ll regret.

Turning on my heel, I storm out of the office before he can see how conflicted I am.

Because even with all the reasons I shouldn’t want Alfie Bonetti, I can’t deny I’m still attracted to him.

10

ALFIE

Burning arousal hammers through my veins as I watch Mika storm toward the door. For a fleeting moment, I consider going after her, calling her bluff, and seeing what she would do. I don’t see her abandoning the horses she’s so protective of, but if I’m wrong—and she quits—then I’ll be short a horse trainer and have no excuse to see her again. She’s just too enticing to let her walk out of my life for good. Even when her back is stiff with anger, her full hips sway provocatively, and I would love nothing more than to bend her over her desk and mark her bare ass for leaving me frustrated—again. The more she rejects me, the stronger my desire for her becomes, and it’s massively inconvenient.

Fuck!I don’t need this kind of distraction right now. I’m weeks away from marrying Nikolai Kapranov’s daughter, but I can’t seem to get Mika out of my head. I wish she would set aside her objections against being “the other woman” and try it. But it seems like that’s never going to happen.

I comb my hair back from my face with my fingers and straighten my suit, stretching the tension from my neck at the same time. I adjust my aching cock to relieve some of the pressure from my zipper,and rolling my shoulders back, I release a heavy breath, composing myself.

Maybe if Mika would just give in to me, I could have my fun and move on in time for the wedding. But she’s clearly not interested in something quick and casual, though, and what’s more frustrating is that I’m not sure a one-and-done situation would satisfy me anyway. Everything about Mika draws me in—her passion, her beauty, her strength, her open defiance. I doubt a quick fuck will do anything but prove how much more of her there is for me to explore, but at this point, I will take what I can get.

A small part of me wishes I hadn’t stumbled upon this kind of temptation when I’m so close to sealing the deal with Nikolai. I’d already resigned myself to an arranged marriage. I didn’t picture being happy in that scenario, but I took the offer to form a lasting peace between the Bonettis and the Kapranovs. Now, I’m confident I’ll be miserable if I marry a woman I don’t know, while Mika remains a constant source of temptation. That means I have one of two options—I can fire Mika, or break off the engagement. Neither sounds like a good option to me, but as I stalk toward the office door, I already know which one I’ll choose.

Nina’s noseis buried too deep in her book to notice when I enter the library, and I stop to lean against the door jamb. Smiling, I take a moment to watch my kid sister before I have to interrupt her peace and quiet. At age twenty-four, she’s hardly a kid anymore, but I’ll always think of her as one because, in so many ways, Nina’s still young and naive to the brutality of the world. I know she will always need my protection, and I don’t mind. I’m more than willing to use my power to keep her safe. Her happiness might matter more to me than my own, and seeing the soft smile on her lips as she walks through her fictional worlds fills me with a deep sense of contentment.

I push off the dark oak doorframe to approach her, my customItalian leather shoes snapping sharply against the mosaic marble floor, and though the sound echoes in the vaulted, two-story library filled with first-edition hardbacks, she doesn’t look up. Nina’s elbows rest on the table in front of her, one arm hidden beneath her dark curtain of hair as she props her cheek on her palm. The other hand holds her book open against the sturdy mahogany surface, her fingers deftly turning the page one-handed. Judging by my brief glimpse of the gold-embossed cover as I approach, she’s reading one of her classic fairy tales made modern. The girl’s a sucker for all those old-timey romantic tales—another reason I know she’s so innocent and young at heart. She believes that kind of love exists, and despite the added danger that optimism puts her in, I can’t bring myself to crush her hope. When I reach the far end of her reading table, I rap the wood sharply with my knuckles, calling attention to my arrival.

Nina’s head snaps up. Her hazel eyes light with affection when she sees me, and in an instant, she’s up out of her chair. “Alfie! You’re home early!”

I love the sound of my sister’s voice—in part because she uses it so rarely, and only ever with me. The sweet blend of warm sunshine and blurred syllables has evolved into a subtle accent all her own. Beaming, my sister jumps up to throw her arms around my neck, and the spine of her well-read book is worn enough, it no longer needs her help to stay open as it holds her place. I hug Nina back, tightening my arms around her slim ribs until she releases a soft squeak. Without intending to, my eyes catch on the words on her page for just a moment, and heat creeps up my neck as a line about the heroine’s creamy thighs opening jumps out at me. I’m aware of my sister’s appreciation for fairy tale retellings, and I know she’s a grown woman now, but I hadn’t considered I might have to think about her marriage prospects—and, therefore, her desires—one day. That’s not a topic I’m at all ready to approach—even if we are both mature adults. As far as I’m concerned, if anyone dares to touch my sister, I’ll cut off his hands. End of discussion.

“Does this mean it’s time for my surprise?” Nina asks, releasingme, her fingers moving in tandem with her voice to ensure I understand her.

I always can, but my father made a point of insisting that Nina use sign language over speaking. When he was alive, he discouraged her from using her voice at all because it would be a dead giveaway that she can’t hear, while sign language and silence would be easier to hide. He worried if she got used to speaking at home, she wouldn’t think about it in public, when it would leave her vulnerable. While I could see his point, it crushed me to watch him silence her. Now, even though I encourage her to speak around the house, I think she’s too self-conscious to use her voice with anyone else.

I shake my head, still smiling as I reply in sign language. “Not yet. You’ll know when it’s time.” Though she can’t hear me, I speak the words. To me, the combination is as natural as breathing, since I’ve been doing it most of my life.

Nina went deaf when she was five, after enduring a brutal case of meningitis that took the lives of both our mother and brother—the middle child in our family. Losing them was horrible. I don’t think my father ever fully recovered. Which is probably why he was so overprotective of Nina. To ensure he wouldn’t lose her, too, he hid her and her vulnerability from the world, and he impressed upon me the importance of looking out for her as her older brother, since she can’t defend herself. But Nina proved incredibly resilient, despite the fact that she lost the most during that illness. She learned to accept her hearing loss and communicate well without it, and in all these years, she’s never complained. We all adapted to the challenge, but the hole my mother and brother left in our family was massive. It’s thanks to Nina that I found the strength to rise above my own grief. She’s the most important person in my life, and I feel blessed to have such a bright ray of sunshine to call family.

“I want to know!” She bounces in her enthusiasm, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “The wait is killing me.”

“No whining,” I tease. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Nina pouts her lip momentarily, then she quickly drops theplayful moping as curiosity flashes across her face. “So, why are you home early? Not that I mind.”

“I’ve set up another dinner with the Kapranovs tonight.” I don’t anticipate it ending well, considering the news I have for them, which is why I came to find Nina. “They should be here shortly, and I want you to eat in your room tonight.” I chuck her under the chin affectionately.

Nina’s delicate eyebrows raise in silent surprise, then her face falls with disappointment, a hint of rejection in her eyes. I don’t like leaving her out because I know it makes her feel less than accepted, but tonight, I can’t risk her safety, and I don’t trust the Kapranovs to keep their heads in the heat of the moment. After a moment of hesitation, Nina agrees, and only then does the tension in my neck relax slightly.

“Promise me, Nina,” I insist because her reaction was far too reluctant. “Promise you’ll stay upstairs for the rest of the night, and you won’t leave your room until I text you.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Concern flickers across her face.

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