Page 61 of Masked Seduction
“Done. Also, FYI. Your little side venture in Prague? We got confirmation that the shell company’s now fully operational. Even the tax nerds were impressed.”
His smirk returns. “Tell them I’m touched.”
I cross my legs and lean back in the leather chair. “Don’t tempt me, Vasiliev. I’m trying to be professional this morning.”
“Trying,” he murmurs, eyes flicking down my body before snapping back to mine. “Keyword.”
A beat of silence, thick and charged, passes between us. Then he straightens, his mood shifting. “Did you nail down that meeting with Nico yet?”
I exhale, tapping to my notes. “I’ve tried every number I’ve got. Twice a week, for the past three weeks. They keep telling me Don Agosti is too ill for a formal meeting.”
Abram’s brow tightens. “I smell bullshit.”
“Yep. And now two of your guys have reported issues at the Blue Anchor.”
His hand clenches where it rests on the desk. “They’re testing us.”
I don’t answer, letting the silence speak for itself. Because I believe they are testing him. I’m not exactly a Bratva expert, but it’s not a stretch to imagine the Agostis are sniffing around for an opening.
Abram leans back in his chair, staring at the skyline. “You’ve been trying to reach Nico for three goddamn weeks. He’sdodging me. Either because he’s up to something, or he’s too stupid to see how important it is that we meet.”
“Want me to try again?”
His jaw flexes. “No. I’ll handle it.”
I don’t press. Not when he’s like this—calm on the surface but starting to crack underneath.
I close my tablet, acting more casual than I feel. Something tells me this Agosti situation is only getting started.And it’s not going to have a pretty ending.
Abram exhales heavily then pushes back from the desk. He circles around like a lion in a cage, stopping in front of me.
“Come here.”
I stand, almost as if gravity itself pulls me to him. He wraps his arms around my waist, firm and sure, pulling me flush against his rock-solid chest. My palms settle lightly there, the scent of him wrapping around me like silk.
“You,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against mine, “are too brave for your own good.”
I grin up at him. “Funny. I was just about to say the same to you.”
He huffs something close to a laugh, and I rise on my toes to kiss him—slow and warm—teasing just enough to make him tighten his grip on my hips.
“So tell me,” I whisper, lips still brushing his, “what would you like your too-brave assistant to do?”
He leans back just enough to meet my eyes, a flicker of something sharp in his expression. “It’s time I make a call to Don Agosti myself.”
I blink. “Wait, you’re bypassing Nico and going straight to the don?”
Abram nods, his jaw tight. “Nico is the one showing disrespect. And I don’t believe for a second that Don Agosti’s too sick to meet. My sources say he’s still taking visitors.”
I shift slightly in his arms. “You sure you want to poke that bear? Didn’t you say that old school men like him care about hierarchy? Protocol?”
He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. “If the messages aren’t reaching him, thatisthe breach in protocol.”
The heat in his voice gives me goosebumps. He kisses me again, slower this time, hands slipping down to cup my ass with zero shame. It’s the kind of kiss that says he’s not thinking about organized crime anymore.
“Enough business talk,” he says, lips trailing toward my jaw. “I’ve been imagining bending you over this desk since you walked in.”
It’s tempting. Very tempting. But one of us has to stay on task.
