Page 113 of Wicked Proposal
And to make deals, you need to showcase what you’re offering.
“So, this party…” Mia licks her lips, uncertain, her stare fixed on the closing elevator doors. “Is it, like, a company party, or…?”
“There are no company parties at StarTech.”
She huffs a laugh, rolls her pretty blue eyes. “Of course not. That would imply fun.”
“Are you complaining about lack of ‘fun’ in your position?”
“No.” Her gaze flicks to me, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. “You’re a lot of things,Mr. Lozhkin,but you’re not boring.”
The elevator doors slide open. Reluctantly, I pry my hand off Mia’s ass and slip it into my pocket.
Showtime.
“Wow,” Mia exhales. “This is…”
I follow her stunned stare to the display of opulence before us: waiters flitting around with trays of tarts and flutes, drippingcrystal chandeliers on the ceiling, a champagne tower in the middle of the room.
“Adequate,” I decide.
“That’s it?” she scoffs, laughing in disbelief. “Just ‘adequate’?”
“My staff did their job. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Gee. I’d hate to be getting performance reviews from you.”
“You have nothing to worry about.” My voice drops to a whisper. “So far, your ‘performance’ has been… more than adequate.”
Her eyes go dark. “Maybe I’ll up my game, then. Shoot for better scores.”
Blyat’.If this goes on, we won’t make it five minutes into this godforsaken party. I’ll end up dragging her into a supply closet and fucking the life out of her before I’ve shaken a single hand.
“Mr. Lozhkin!” A familiar voice interrupts my train of thoughts. “There you are!”
Mia tilts her head curiously at the young man who’s just bounded up to us like an excited puppy. It’s not the way most people greet me.
But then again, Tikhon isn’t most people.
“The prototype for the ingestible GPS is ready!” he chirps excitedly, his tunnel vision blocking Mia from sight entirely.
With anybody else, I would take offense, but I’ve known Tikhon long enough to understand his brain only has one concern: his dear prototypes.
“Our trials have improved significantly, and almost no one is getting diarrhea from it anymore—well, there’s Bob, but you know Bob, always keeping his mayo out of the fridge—so I’ve been thinking we can hand it over to packaging in time for Christmas. Keep your pets safe, your kids safe, and find out if your husband’s double-dipping. How’s that for a slogan? Oh, oh! We should get billboards for this one! Like that one we did in Times Square? Or maybe?—”
He doesn’t take a breath the whole way through. That, too, is expected.
“Mia,” I cut in, “this is Tikhon Baranov, lead engineer of StarTech. Tikhon, this is Mia Winters. My fiancée.”
Tikhon’s gaze finally zeroes in on Mia. “Hello!” He beams, lighting up. “So nice to meet you! You know, when I first heard the rumors our fearless leader had gotten hitched, I couldn’t believe it, but now, I totally can!”
“Uhh… thanks?” Mia says, watching her hand being shaken up and down like a ragdoll. “That’s, um, very kind of you.”
“Have you seen the prototypes yet?” Tikhon continues, eyes shining behind his thick glasses. “Come! I’ll take you for a tour of the hall.”
Mia throws me a quick glance, seeking permission. I grant it with a nod.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let anyone take her from my side, but there’s far too much heat between us tonight.
