Page 41 of Stalk Me

Another buzz. My fingers twitch.

“Are you feeling well? You seem distracted.” Mr. Patterson frowns.

“Just a busy morning.” I force a professional smile, but my mind drifts to Nikolai’s strong hands, the way he—No. Focus.

I’ve built this gallery’s reputation on meticulous attention to detail. I can barely string two thoughts together without imagining steel-gray eyes and that knowing smirk.

“Perhaps we should reschedule?” Mr. Patterson suggests.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” I stand, smoothing my skirt. “Let me walk you through the technical analysis reports.”

My phone buzzes twice in rapid succession. Mr. Patterson’s eyebrows rise.

“Actually, you may be right. Shall we continue this tomorrow? Same time?” I’m already gathering the papers, my cheeks burning.

After he leaves, I slump against my desk and check the messages.

I open my messages, each one making my breath catch.

I can still taste you on my tongue from this morning, malishka.

Those silk panties you’re wearing? I’m going to tear them off with my teeth.

I bet you’re wet right now, thinking about how I’m going to bend you over that antique desk...

Send me a photo of what’s mine.

My thighs clench as I read his explicit descriptions of what he plans to do to me tonight. The final message shows he sent it right as Mr. Patterson asked about the documentation.

With trembling fingers, I type back:

You just cost me a $2M deal with Patterson. He rescheduled it because I couldn’t focus. Are you happy now?

His response is immediate.

Very. No one else deserves your attention.

This is my business, Nikolai. My livelihood. You can’t just...

I’ll buy the piece myself. Double his offer.

That’s not the point! You’re impossible.

And you’re mine. I’ll see you at 8. Wear something accessible.

I slam my phone down, fury and arousal warring inside me. How dare he be so presumptuous? Yet even as I seethe, I’m already wondering what to wear tonight.

I check my watch and curse under my breath. I’m already running late to meet Tash. After the messages from Nikolai left me flustered, I barely had time to touch up my lipstick before rushing out to catch an Uber.

Tash waves from our usual corner table at Sorellina when I arrive, already sipping her martini. “You look thoroughly ravished.”

“Is it that obvious?” I slide into my seat, ordering a much-needed glass of wine.

“Please. You’re practically glowing.” She leans forward, perfectly manicured nails drumming on the table. “Spill everything. And don’t skip the juicy parts.”

I bite my lip, heat creeping up my neck. “He’s... intense. Controlling. Drives me absolutely crazy.”

“In bed or in general?”

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