Page 33 of Lethal Legacy

His eyes gleam. “I give the orders, Miss Lopez. I don’t take them.”

The thought of Roman Stevanovsky giving me orders opens a realm of possibilities that make my mouth suddenly dry.

Take your dress off, Miss Lopez.

Wrap your mouth around my cock, Miss Lopez.

I’m going to fuck you hard against the plate glass windows until you scream, Miss Lopez...

The mere thought of any of those options has me swollen and ready for every one of them. Suddenly I’m impatient as hell to get on with this. Ever since I screamed into his hand, my body has been screaming out for him to take it, any which way he pleases, as hard and often as he can. And right now I’m so damned hot I just want him to—

“The children arrive tomorrow morning.”

Uh . . . what?

“Sit down, Miss Lopez.” His dark eyes are hooded and unsettlingly disinterested. He waits until I’m seated, then takes his own chair. “Luis is the children’s driver. He will pick you up at eight thirty tomorrow morning and take you to the airport to meet their flight, which arrives at ten.” He sounds like he’s giving orders to one of his minions.

Then I remember that Iamone of his minions.

“Luis will take you straight from the airport to the children’s apartments, where your rooms are. You will have your belongings ready when he collects you in the morning, since you will be living in my building from tomorrow.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Of course, I knew the contract began tomorrow. But that gives me only tonight to organize accommodation and care for Papa, not to mention concoct a story that he won’t see through.

“Is there a problem, Miss Lopez?”

For a man who has recently signed me up to be his sexual plaything, CEO Man appears to be anything but interested in ravishing me. Which, after the tension of the last few days, I find oddly disappointing.

Oh, girl,I hear Abby’s voice chiding me in my head,you have got it baaaaad.

“I just have—a few things to organize.”

He frowns. “Then I suggest you organize them, Miss Lopez.” He glances at his laptop screen. “I notice you haven’t provided us with bank account details for your salary, nor your passport number, as stated on the form.”

Oh, crap.I should have seen this coming. Actually, Ididsee it coming.

I just hadn’t wanted to.

“I also need an address for Luis to collect you from.” He pins me with a penetrating stare that sets my danger radar to sky-high. “Or should I assume you will be in the same motel in which you passed last night?”

I swallow again, barely trusting myself to speak. “You spied on me?” But if I hoped to sound challenging, I fail dismally. My voice is a faint rasp, and even I can hear the trembling fear beneath it.

Damn it.

I can’t control the sudden wash of terror that leaves me breathless. If Roman can find me, then others can. And if he knows where I live, does he know about Papa?

How much does he know, exactly?

Mentally I calculate the distance from desk to door, but part of me already knows it’s futile. The pounding of my heart is like the roar of the ocean in my ears, and I’m blazing hot then freezing cold at the realization of my own stupidity.

How did I ever think I’d get away with this?

“Relax, Miss Lopez.” Roman is watching me through narrowed eyes, but I don’t see humor in his expression. I can’t read it at all, if I’m honest. Not to mention that I’m still reeling with shock and fear. “I run a background check on all my employees.”

And no background should exist. None.

“I ran yours privately.” He’s still watching me. I get the feeling he is aware of every terrified heartbeat, every hitched breath as I try to calculate what damage has been done, what has been exposed and to whom.

“I thought it was wise, given that most of the employees at that café are here without visas. My security man is very discreet, and his online activities well hidden. Then again”—he leans back, clasping his hands behind his neck—“so are yours. My search turned up very little indeed. You are something of the enigma, Miss Lopez. And given the skills of my security team, that is saying something.”

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