Page 61 of Wicked Proposal
“Blyat’.” That woman. She pushes me like no one else. Worse, I doubt she even knows she’s doing it. She just loathes my waysso much, she’s willing to cross lines no man in their right mind would ever cross.
It makes me want to do unspeakable things to her. Remind her who’sreallyin charge between us.
Her ash brown hair in my fist. Her back, arched as I fuck her senseless. Her moans bouncing off the walls, her full breasts spilling from my fingers. Her tight, wet?—
An angry knock on my window snaps me out of those thoughts. Relentless, impatient, rude.
I don’t even need to look to know it’s her.
“What the hell, Yulian?” she yells at me as soon as I roll the window down. “You’rethree hoursearly.”
“I had time now.” My voice goes cold. I have no idea who this woman thinks she is to take up that tone with me, but she’s gonna have to rethink her priorities. “You should be grateful I made time at all. I’m a busy man.”
“Oh, I’m plenty grateful,” she snarks. “I’msothrilled my son almost saw you.”
I glance around the empty street. “I don’t see him.”
“Because my friend dropped everything to come get him early!” she hisses. “You realize other people have lives, right? Real, actual lives.”
“And you’re free to get back to yours,” I answer. “I can go right now, if that’s what you wish. But I’ll take my million with me.”
She holds my gaze. I can see her weighing her options in her head, like she thinks she has any. Like she still hasn’t gotten the memo.
It’s a simple lesson.
When I want something, Igetit.
Finally, she breaks. “Then at least come inside. I’m not doing this like it’s a drug deal.”
Come inside.I can almost picture those words in a whole different tone, her voice twisting around them in a sultry whisper. A plea. Like she’ll combust if I don’t do what we’re both dreaming of doing.
I chase those thoughts off and climb out of the car.
Mia walks briskly up the stairs. She’s wearing a pair of low rise jeans that look older than she is. Every step makes her ass bounce.
If I’m not careful, I’ll be collecting her contract rock-hard.
When we get to her door, she glares at the bodyguards I put there. “Here we are,” she mutters. “Home sweet compound. Make yourself comfortable.”
One glance around the place tells me it’s easier said than done.
The apartment isn’t dirty, per se, but it’s… colorful. Toys and puzzle pieces are strewn every which way, with no rhyme or reason. When I step inside, I almost put my foot right into the back of a toy truck.
“Careful with that,” she warns. “Social worker almost took a dive down the stairs, skating on it. Was real fun to watch, though.”
She doesn’t apologize for the mess. She doesn’t invite me to sit. She doesn’t offer me coffee, or water, or anything a good host might.
Instead, she clears the kitchen island from a pile of haphazard plushies with one arm and unlocks her knife drawer.
I raise an eyebrow. “If you’re going to make an attempt on my life, I’d recommend something that keeps you out of arms’ reach.”
“I’m not.” She pulls out the contract from the back of the drawer. “But don’t tempt me.”
More threats.It’s kind of adorable, really. She couldn’t harm a hair on my head and still, she pretends that it’s an option. That she has control.
“I take it you’ve signed it?”
“Not yet.” She hands me the contract. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a few suggestions.”
