Page 49 of 10 Days to Ruin

My jaw tightens. That’s one of our smaller operations, but still. “What kind of problem?”

“Serbs.” Yannik shifts his weight. “A handful of them showed up last night, swingin’ baseball bats like fuckin’ crazy. Started hassling our guys, demanding protection money.”

I exchange a look with Feliks. This isn’t the first time Serbian street thugs have tried marking their territory in our neighborhoods. Like dogs pissing on trees.

“Anyone hurt?”

“No, sir. But they did a number on the folks working. They’re just low-level packagers, y’know? They get spooked by stuff like that.”

I crack my neck. Finally, something to do besides sit around and think about—Don’t even go there.

“Get Dmitri and Anton. We’ll pay them a visit.”

“Already called them,” Feliks says, rising from his chair as he tucks his phone away. “They’ll meet us downstairs.”

I stand and reach for my coat. “Time to remind some people where they can and cannot stick their?—”

Then, speaking of intrusive devils, the door bursts open.

And Ariel strides in, all of my distractions made manifest.

If that was all, I’d tell my secretary to take her to lunch and I’d keep going on my merry fucking way to bash some Serbian skulls in. My bride-to-be needs to learn her place.

But that’snotall.

She’s wearing glasses. Horn-rimmed frames perched on her nose, making her green eyes bigger, brighter. A crisp white button-down about three sizes too small and two buttons too low strains across her chest, tucked into a black pencil skirt that hugs every curve and barely kisses the tops of her knees. Her auburn hair is pulled back in a severe bun, with dainty little wisps escaping to frame her face.

My brain short-circuits.

“Mr. Ozerov.” She pushes those glasses up her nose. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?”

Yannik gawks. Feliks coughs to hide his laugh.

I should be furious at this interruption. Should be thinking about those Serbs, about maintaining order, about bloodshed and business.

Instead, all I can think about is how much I want to mess up that perfect hair. About ripping that skirt to pieces so I can?—

“Ms. Ward.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “This isn’t a good time.”

She blinks those big, green eyes at me from behind those fucking glasses. The picture of perfect innocence while I’m a dirty sinner about to fall off the wagon.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. I—” Her hip bumps my desk as she leans over it, sending papers scattering, including Brian’s file. “Oops! Clumsy me.”

My jaw tightens as she bends to pick them up, giving me a perfect view down her shirt. The temperature in the room spikes out of nowhere. My collar suddenly feels tight, strangling me.

“You look tense, sweetheart.” She runs a finger across my shoulder, curling it over my bicep. “Maybe you need a break? I was hoping we could have lunch together. I was just missing you so, so, so,somuch today.”

I catch Yannik’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries not to stare at her ass. Even Feliks can’t keep his eyes off her legs.

I can’t even blame them. My dick’s hard enough to hammer fucking nails.

But I’ll blame them anyway.

“Out,” I spit. “All of you.”

“But the Serbs—” Yannik starts.

“Handle it without me.”

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