Page 27 of Control: XXX Vadim 1
“Provoking you?” I parrot innocently and sip from my drink. “Is that what it’s called when you’re minding your own business, enjoying your time alone?” I pout and flutter my eyelashes. “My bed is so very big. I’ll get lonely if I sleep in it by myself.”
He frowns, his gaze dimming, and something that could be regret diminishes my feeling of triumph. No fair. He had to go and make things serious.
“Your wife candidate is gone?” I wonder, my tone slightly less nasty. After scanning the room, I don’t find the woman anywhere. “Was she too brunette for your tastes? Too ‘unpredictable’?”
“Too jealous,” he says in a deadpan tone. “She demanded to know why I was interviewing her when I have such a beautiful girlfriend.” His frown lets me know that the words aren’t his. Knowing that doesn’t kill the fluttering butterflies that come to life in my stomach, though. “Had you not hung up on me, I would have further explained my motives,” he adds, deliberately dangling a carrot before my nose.
Am I curious enough to take the bait?No,I decide, taking another sip of my wine. But then I remember how beautiful he looked, paired with a taller, more exotic looking woman, and a muscle in my jaw twitches.
“What motives could possibly explain interviewing marriage candidates?” I fold my hands neatly over my lap and feign interest. Internally, I’m struck by his appearance more than usual. The planes of his face seem bolder, his eyes darker. Even his hair looks glossier. Frowning, I try to pinpoint the source of the change, and then I find it—in addition to the ebony suit that I’m beginning to suspect is his signature look, a pop of color stands out in stark contrast. His shirt, a rich navy blue. I have a sudden flashback of me drunkenly informing him that blue is his color.
And it freaking is.
“Are you alright, Ms. Connors?” he wonders, his brows furrowing. At the same time, he strokes the edge of his collar, deliberately drawing my attention downward. “You seem distracted.”
Rolling my eyes, I attempt to regroup. “Don’t tell me the aloof bachelor is looking to settle down,” I snipe. “Newsflash, that typically involves having to touch someone more often than giving them a kiss-off.”
“In theory,” he smoothly replies. “Luckily for me and my ‘aloofness’ this has nothing to do with romance whatsoever. I’m merely seeking a business arrangement.”
“Oh?” I find myself inching closer to him while sneaking another sip from the rim of my glass. “A marriage of convenience?” I glance him over and nod with judgment. “You look like the type. You want your wife on call for public appearances with an agreement to freeze her eggs in case you desire an heir. No fucking required.”
I sound so disappointed. Poor Vadim’s future wife. He wouldn’t want to endure the many, many,manysessions of sex it might take to conceive a baby. Halfway through, he’d close up out of nowhere, erect his iron wall and leave her high and dry. She’d be better off with a turkey baster. It would certainly provide more stable emotional support.
“You seem very interested in what duties I might desire in my wife,” he points out.
I scoff and sip from my wine. Ignoring him would be the smart option—but I just can’t help myself. “With your dazzling lack of imagination, I’m sure I have a pretty good idea already.”
He chuckles, and I stiffen. Damn him, he can sound so carefree when he wants to. So…normal. So disarming.
“You have such a good idea of my intentions, and yet I doubt you would even make it through the interview process.”
Low burn. I eye my drink and half-heartedly consider throwing it on him. Then I down it in one go and slam the empty glass onto the counter. Meeting his gaze directly, I fashion my most beautiful, charming smile. “Try me.”
He stands without hesitation and approaches the table he left vacated. He moves so assuredly that I can’t help feeling like a rabbit clumsily caught in a hunter’s snare. I’d been so busy chasing my own tail that I didn’t even see the trap coming.
“Change your mind?” Vadim calls without turning around.
I slink over to him, feigning disinterest with a bored sigh. To save face, I stall by circling around him before claiming the seat the brunette had occupied. My nostrils wrinkle, and I fight to stifle a frown. I can smell her perfume—cheap, knock-off designer.
“Ms. Connors, is it?” Vadim has a stack of papers placed before his spot. He leisurely rifles through them and looks up, eyeing me up and down. “I’m afraid your attire isn’t at all appropriate,” he scolds. “Did you even read the requirements?”
I squirm, unsure if he’s joking or mocking. Probably both. It’s so hard to tell with him. Biting my lip, I once again contemplate leaving—but the thought barely has time to form before I find myself leaning over the table instead. His quick glance downward reveals that my dirty trick hit its target—he definitely notices my cleavage, straining against the black silk of my dress. The effect is even more revealing if I arch my back in just the right angle.
So I do.
“I could go and change,” I murmur innocently, deploying my sexy drawl. “Though you should loveeeeee this dress.Youbought it.”
“About that.” He shifts, suddenly serious. “Your total came to—” he rattles off a number so insanely enormous that I instantly suppress it from my memory. “Would you like to repay me in a lump sum or in installments?”
I wrinkle my nose. Stealing from him was never my intention. Needling him a little? Totally. Still, even if it makes my throat go dry, I can’t refuse him outright. “I do remember being promised a shopping spree in return for my accompanying you to ruin your brother’s party—”
“That was for one dress,” he clarifies, smoothing his finger along his collar. “Not four, a pair of shoes, a fur stole, a purse, two brooches and—”
“I’ll return them, then,” I say, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “I kept the tags on. No harm, no foul.”
“You won’t.” He laughs at the absurdity of such a proposal. “You had the driver circle around for hours until you found the exact store you wanted. Judging from your eventual tardiness, you spent even more time combing through each collection, picking your favorites. You may not be punctual, but I can tell you don’t do things half-assed, either. To use that word, you so endeavor to abuse, youlovethosegarments.”
My heart races, panicked. I feel so personally insulted. So…known. He read me like a book, so expertly, he didn’t even have to run his fingers through me to do it. No fair.
