Page 72 of Shadows of Obsession

"Mr. Borisov, you have responsibilities," I remind him teasingly, but when his gaze locks on my mouth, I involuntarily feel the need to wet my lips.

He swallows and takes a step toward me.

"Do that again," he orders in a tone that awakens every dormant cell.

"You can do that for me." I don't know where the hell my head gets this response from.

He reaches out and snatches my waist with his hands, pulling me toward him. His tongue invades my lips almost instantly. Now I really don't want to go to any party.

His lips move over every inch of my mouth, as if he wants to mark every cell as his own. I feel like I'll catch fire if he doesn't give me more, so I let out a moan, which causes his eyes to pop open.

"Luna."

It's a warning, and I know I should listen to it. Now isn't the time for my hormones to run wild. It takes me a few moments before I take his hand and pull him toward the door. We won't be going anywhere if one of us doesn't clear our minds.

?

The drive is relatively short, and when the driver enters the senator's courtyard, I realize how far removed I am from their reality. The white Victorian house is lit by lanterns that give it an intimate atmosphere. At the entrance there's a valet and another person checking invitations. Somewhere on the left are gardens, similarly lit, where guests can be seen enjoying their drinks and conversation.

Roman extends his hand to help me out of the car, and without meaning to, I squeeze it harder than necessary. He leans toward me and kisses me on the cheek.

"I promise we won't stay long," he whispers.

Clearly it’s obvious that I don't feel quite comfortable. I hate crowds in general. Crowds where everyone wears clothes more expensive than my three-month salary? Yes. I hate them even more.

After we each take a glass - me champagne, him whiskey - we enter a kind of salon that was probably meant for balls in the past. From the high ceiling hang two chandeliers, and on the walls hang various paintings that, I assume, are meant to be appreciated by people with more sophisticated taste than mine.

We’ve barely entered when a gentleman dressed in a three-piece black suit appears. He's around sixty, but you can see life has been generous with him.

"Mr. Borisov, I was just wondering if you would honor us with your presence."

His voice is smooth, and I realize this man is a politician. He has a special charisma that makes you feel relaxed in his presence.

"Ah, Keith. I couldn't miss the opportunity," Roman answers him.

The fact that the senator chose to address Roman formally, while Roman chose to drop the formalities, clearly shows the power play. They're afraid of him.

Somehow this should scare me, but it makes me feel...proud.

Clearly I've completely and irremediably lost it.

"And who is the gorgeous lady accompanying you?" he asks, his eyes traversing my entire body.

I know this dress fits snugly on my curves, but I still feel embarrassed at the senator's gaze.

"Luna, and I'd suggest you keep your eyes on me, not on my woman," Roman tells him.

The senator blushes slightly and coughs out an apology.

I find it quite amusing how these people pass laws that can change millions of lives, but at a few words from Roman, they're nearly having a coronary.

I lean slightly toward Roman. I imagine there are several reasons why he wanted to come here, and I don't want him to lose the opportunity to do what he needs to do because he eviscerated the senator with his look.

"Once again, I apologize if I offended you, Luna," the senator tells me, looking more at my forehead than at me, which is why I try to ease the tension.

"Don't worry. I'm very happy to be here. I'm an admirer of your project for cybersecurity in hospitals," I say, pleased that I did my homework in advance.

Although I didn’t remember his face, I know he was the one who insisted on implementing a higher level of security in hospitals that were the target of hackers demanding ransoms.

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