Page 27 of Perfect Stalker

I stir the pan with more force than necessary. “She died when I was nineteen. Shot by someone aiming for Vyacheslav.”

Silence falls between us, heavy with unspoken words. Jenny moves closer, brushing her arm against mine as she reaches for the wine glasses. The brief contact sends electricity through my body.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “That must have been devastating.”

I nod, unable to speak for a moment. When I find my voice again, I say, “It was, but her lessons stayed with me. This recipe included.”

She smiles, a gentle curve of her lips that makes my heart race. “I’m honored you’re sharing it with me.”

We stare at each other as the world narrows to just us. The simmering pan, the ticking clock, and the city beyond our windows all fade away. I sway closer, drawn by an irresistible force. She parts her lips slightly as her chest rises and falls rapidly.

Just as our lips are about to touch, she jerks back. Her eyes are wide, with desire and confusion swirling in their depths. “I... I should finish setting the table,” she says, her voice breathy.

She hurries away, busying herself with napkins and silverware. I turn back to the stove, smiling. Her reaction pleases me. She’s affected by my presence, even if she’s not ready to admit it.

I finish cooking, plating the Stroganoff with a flourish. Jenny sits at the table, her posture tense. As I set the plate before her, our fingers brush. She pulls away as if burned, her cheeks flushing.

“Enjoy,” I say, taking my seat across from her.

She nods, avoiding my gaze as she takes a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. “This is delicious,” she says, finally looking at me.

“I’m glad you like it.” I watch her intently, analyzing her every reaction.

We eat in silence, and the tension between us is thicker than the rich sauce on our plates. She keeps her attention on her food, eating quickly. I savor each bite, both the flavors and the company.

As soon as she finishes, she stands. “Thank you for dinner,” she says, her words rushed. “I’m... I’m going to bed now.”

Before I can respond, or point out it’s barely seven, she’s gone, retreating to her room. The sound of her door closing reverberates through the penthouse.

I settle back in my chair with a chuckle. Jenny might be running now, but her reaction tells me everything I need to know. She’s not unaffected by me. The attraction between us is undeniable.

I’ll give her space tonight, but soon—very soon—she won’t be able to resist anymore. When that happens, I’ll be ready.

CHAPTER 11

JENNY

The prospectus I reviewed this morning for a high-concept Sci-fi TV show feels heavy in my hands as I approach Ivan’s office. I’m nervous about presenting it or giving my endorsement, since that’s outside my job description. I’ve been slowly working through Miranda’s files and came across it.

It’s daunting. Will he like my tastes? Will he trust my judgment? Will he tell me not to overstep my place? My steps falter, and not from nervousness, when I hear raised voices from within. I pause outside the door, straining to make out the words.

“...Morozov’s presence in Atlanta is a direct threat,” says Marcus. “We need to act now.”

“I’m aware of the risks,” says Ivan, his tone clipped, “But we can’t make a move against Alexei without solid intel.”

I don’t know who they’re discussing, but it sounds dangerous. The voices drop lower, and I press closer to the door.

“...Jenny’s safety is paramount,” says Ivan. “Double the security detail on her. I want eyes on her twenty-four-seven.”

My eyes widen. They’re talking about me? Before I can process this, the door swings open. I stumble back, nearly dropping the prospectus.

Marcus stands in the doorway, his expression stormy. His eyes narrow when he sees me. “Ms. Graham.”

I force a smile. “Marcus. I was just bringing this…something for Mr. Markov.”

He nods curtly and brushes past me. I watch him stride down the hallway, his posture rigid with tension.

“Jenny.” Ivan’s deep voice draws my attention back to his office. “Come in.”

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