Page 21 of Lethal Legacy

Chains and whips.

I shiver, hearing Roman’s husky voice:“My methods of punishment are far more twisted than you can possibly imagine...”

“Eleven minutes.” Abby gives me a Cheshire cat grin. “You better hurry. Fifty floors is a long elevator ride.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I untie my apron, throw it on the counter, and run for the building opposite.

Ionly just make it, and in only a slightly less flustered state than last time. A new assistant, male this time, buzzes me in at exactly ten o’clock. The light in Roman’s office is almost blinding, sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It gleams on sleek black couches and glitters off the long oval glass conference table. At the end of the room Roman is sitting in a tall leather chair behind a midnight steel desk the same iron color of his eyes, speaking in low Russian to someone on his cell. He looks up as I enter and nods at a chair in front of him.

If we were playing our old game, I’d have lost already.

I was blushing before I even got here.

Now, staring at the desk and remembering what happened last time I was close to it, my face is on fire. Roman, by contrast, is coolly impersonal and focused on his call.

“Nyet,” he says curtly, staring at something on his laptop screen. “Segodnya.”Today.Some poor minion has just been given an impossible deadline. It’s almost a relief to find CEO Man behaving so true to form, like a return to our weird normal.

Then he hangs up and stares at me, so long that my toes begin to curl and the color mount on my face. He waits until every inch of me is siren red before he finally speaks.

“You cut it fine this morning, Miss Lopez.” His expression is as unreadable as ever, his steel gaze pinning me to the seat. “Another minute and you would have been too late.” The ice-burn eyes run over my still-heaving chest and red face with the same narrow scrutiny they did days ago. “Last-minute decision, I gather.”

I can think of a dozen things to say, but they all sound incoherent even in my head, so in the end I just gulp and stay silent.

Roman steeples his fingers on the desk. “Your recent departure from my office left me with something of a dilemma, Miss Lopez,” he says finally.

I can’t imagine what kind of dilemma he means.

Whether to come back for coffee again? Whether to have me deliver it every day?

“First, you left your tip behind.”

Every part of me is burning red. “I told you that I don’t need your money. And it seemed inappropriate—”

“I think we both know the first part of that statement is untrue.” He cuts me off brusquely. “And given that you came on my hand the last time we met, I think we are long pastinappropriate.”

I almost choke on air.

“Tell me, Miss Lopez. In my shoes, how would you approach this dilemma?” Sitting back in his chair, he regards me with polite interest.

Completely unnerved, I open my mouth and let whatever is in it fall right on out. “Just forget what happened and let things go back to normal?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s an option, Miss Lopez.” He stretches and cracks his knuckles, then interlaces his hands behind his head. It’s hard to look at those hands without remembering what they were doing to me last time we met, and by the faint smirk on his face, Roman is well aware of my discomfort. “Here are the two options I am putting on the table. You can take either offer or neither. It’s entirely up to you.”

He opens the drawer and pushes two envelopes across the desk toward me. “One of these contains the tip you left behind. Given my previous assurance that I wouldn’t call you back to my office, I’ve doubled the amount inside it.

“The other”—he taps it with one forefinger, his eyes holding mine—“contains a contract of employment.”

Employment?

“Take the tip, and you have my word you won’t hear from me again. Take the contract, and for the next several months, you will belong, exclusively, to me.”

There’s an odd ringing in my ears, and the air around me dances with strange lights that make me think I’m about to actually faint for the first time in my life.

“Belong to you,” I echo hollowly. “You mean... wait.” I swallow, catching myself before I say something I can’t come back from. “Whatdoyou mean, exactly?”

He nods at the larger of the two envelopes. “Open it.”

I do, withdrawing the sheaf of papers inside and glancing at the opening page.

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