Page 145 of 10 Days to Ruin

I point at him. “You, sir, are on thin ice. If there are no more questions, I’m gonna come around and start giving you tasks. Good? Great. Let’s go.”

The next hour descends into beautiful chaos. Lora transforms the production schedule into a color-coded masterpiece while arguing with Pavel the entire time. Gina badgers Feliks into fetching her another iced latte (“Three sugars, extra drizzle, or I’ll revoke your kneecap privileges”), and I catch him slipping his number onto the cup sleeve.

“Subtle,” I mutter as he saunters past my office.

Feliks winks. “You hired a pit bull. Someone’s gotta tame her.”

“She’ll eat you alive,” I warn.

“Promises, promises.”

I could keep working all through the night. But the sun is finally dipping below the horizon and I’ve got dinner with Baba to go to. So when Gina comes to fetch me, I reluctantly concede defeat.

“Pack it up, Woodward,” she says. “Your mobster prince is here to pick you up.”

Sure enough, Sasha is leaning against the reception desk in a charcoal suit that should come with a warning label. His gaze flicks from my ink-stained hands to the messy bun I’ve secured with a pencil.

“Long day?” he asks when I approach.

“Youtry herding cats with PhDs in chaos theory.” I nod toward Gina and Feliks, who are now engaged in a furious debate over… honestly, I’ve lost track.

Sasha checks his watch. “Dinner with your father’s in two hours. You need time to change.”

“Change?” I pluck at my stinky, sweaty tee. “You don’t think mySorry for Having Nice Tits and Correct Opinionsshirt will fly with my father figure?”

“No, but not because it’s wrong,” Sasha teases, reaching around to pinch my ass. “Also, I brought you a dress.”

I bat him away. “Control freak.”

“You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

The ride back to his penthouse is a blur of stolen kisses and wandering hands. By the time we’re streaking through the marble foyer, my shirt’s halfway over my head, which, according to Sasha, confirms at least one half of the text printed on the front.

I’m reaching for his belt when he stops me with a growl against my collarbone. “Later. We’re already late.”

“You started it!”

“And I’ll finish it, too, if you’re not careful.” He nips my earlobe. “But dinner comes first.”

He helps me shower—though his version of “helping” involves a vibrator and his tongue playing between my thighs—and then helps me step into the dress he bought.

It’s black as sin and fits me like a dream. “Bozhe moy,” he breathes when it’s on and I give him a sassy twirl to show off.

“Too much?” I ask.

“Not nearly enough.” He offers his arm. “Ready?”

I take it. “Let’s go disappoint a patriarch.”

His laugh echoes through the marble halls—dark, rich, andmine.

49

ARIEL

The black town car glides to a stop outside Leander’s brownstone, and I’m hit with a memory so sharp it steals my breath—Jasmine squeezing my hand as we climbed these same stone steps twenty years ago, whispering“Race you to the top!”while our mother’s laughter echoed behind us.

---