Page 6 of Lethal Legacy

Oh, shit.

The thrill halts instantly.

Just like that, I’m back to reality.

Don’t forget who you are. Or where you are. Be smart, Darya Petrovsky.

“I don’t make a habit of carrying my passport around.”It sounds plausible enough. “Besides, you have the café’s number. You don’t need mine.”

He rubs an impatient hand over his half-day stubble. “I don’t have time for this.”

So much for being smart. My logical brain always seems to short-circuit when CEO Man is anywhere nearby.

And right now, he’s close.Veryclose.

Oh, that stubble scraping up the soft skin of my inner thighs...

I’m clearly deeply disturbed.

...Not to mention what that lethal tongue would do when he reached the tops of them.

He thrusts his hands into his pockets, pinning me with an arctic stare. “This is my home. And I don’t appreciate you invading my privacy without prior warning.”

The sexy stubble fantasy gives way to a decent dose of indignation.

“Invading your privacy?”

I just carried a mountain of food through the heat for you, asshole.

“Whatever mistakes your assistant made aren’t my problem. Your doorman let me in without question.”

He’s still giving me the Stevanovsky death stare, and my indignation swells into anger.

I’m not one of your Hale minions, to have my ass handed to me at your convenience.

“I had no idea you were here,” I say frostily, “let alone that delivering food thatyouordered would be consideredinvading your privacy.But now that I do know, it certainly won’t happen again.”

Ever. Like, until hell freezes over.

Roman’s jaw is hard as a razor’s edge. “Your phone number, Miss Lopez.”

I fold my arms angrily and rattle off Abby’s digits, which I know by heart. He punches them into the keypad, then hits the call button.

Of course he’s going to check it.

Bugger,as Abby would say. She doesn’t answer, of course, since she’s probably knee-deep in customers. But before Roman can start tearing into me for lying, his phone vibrates with a text message. He holds it up so I can see the screen.

Da fuck is this?

The text message is a fine example of Abby’s native Australian diplomacy.

Rather absurdly, given the seriousness of the situation, my lips twitch with the urge to laugh. But not at CEO Man. He can go straight back to whatever hell he came from.

“Shall we try this again, Miss Lopez?” Roman says dryly.

Reluctantly, I give him the right number. He hits the buttons, and my phone vibrates in my hip pocket. I pointedly ignore it.

“Are we done here?”

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