Page 12 of Nine Months to Bear
“You’re late.”
His deep voice is muffled this far below ground, like we’re in a tomb. A shiver snakes up my spine, but I never let it bend.
I pull my eyes from the wall of mounted firearms to my watch just as the second hand touches the twelve. “I’m right on time despite having to descend to the lowest circle of hell. What’s with the guns? Are we here to negotiate or audition forJohn Wick 5?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. Then Stefan turns and holds the pistol out, butt-first. “Let’s see what you can do.”
I back up like he’s handing me a venomous snake. Actually, I might respond better to the snake. “No thank you.”
“We can’t be in business together if you’re six feet under. You should know how to protect yourself. Boston is full of menwho take rejection personally.” His ice-blue eyes—one with a distinctive brown segment that I should’ve clocked the night we met; Good God, how much would women pay to have a drop of this man’s genetics?—lock onto mine. “Who knows? I might even be one of them.”
I cross my arms. “I came here in good faith—forwork. I’m not here to deal in weird, cryptic threats.”
“No?” His gaze drops to my outfit, lingering on the slit that exposes a sliver of thigh. “Then why wear that skirt?”
Heat blooms between my shoulder blades, and I have to fight the instinct to curl in on myself. To hide under the laser of his stare. Thirty seconds in front of Stefan and my body is already betraying me. I’m pitiful.
Of course, I knew that already. I knew it when I spent forty minutes this morning deciding what to wear, calculating the exact ratio of professional to desirable. One centimeter too much leg and I’m desperate. Too little and I’m forgettable.
But this moment confirms that I goofed it anyway.
“I have a business proposition,” I say firmly. “Not a death wish.”
“Then come here, Doctor.” He holds out the gun again. “You live in a dangerous city. Time you learned to protect yourself.”
“I have pepper spray.”
Well,now,I do. I didn’t have it on me the night of the gala. It was still in the console of my Prius, tucked away safely in the plastic wrapping.
Not sure how much good it’ll do me, though. I’m deep underground and Stefan Safonov has a gun. Frederick Carson was child’s play compared to this.
He waves the gun towards my hand and his cologne hits me. It wraps around me, seduces me into a hazy-headed daze.
“Fire one clip, Olivia,” he purrs. “You might even enjoy it.”
“I doubt that very much.” My body is humming as I reluctantly take the gun from his hand.
It’s heavier than it looks, cold and deadly against my palm. I step up to the stall. I’m hyper-aware of Stefan moving behind me. The air between us feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.
“If I shoot you, let it be known to all watching that it was an accident.” My heels are locked together, knees rigid as I lift my arms and aim the gun. “… Probably.”
Suddenly, his body heat envelops me from behind. I freeze. His thighs brush the backs of my legs. “Your stance is all wrong.”
His voice drops low, private.Thisis wrong. He’s too close, too hot.
He kicks my ankles apart and it’s impossible not to imagine this playing out at the end of his bed. God, it must be massive. Some double-wide California king cloaked in black satin, if I had to guess.
His thumb presses into a knot of tension at the base of my neck. I bite back a wildly inappropriate moan.
“Relax,” he purrs. “You’re too tight.”
I’m absolutely not thinking about other contexts for those words. I’m definitely not imagining those hands elsewhere.
I’m a professional. A doctor. A businesswoman here to save my clinic.
“I’m holding a deadly weapon,” I manage. “Tension seems appropriate.”
“If we’re going to work together, Olivia, I need you not to lie to me.” A low chuckle vibrates against my back as his words whisper against my neck. “The gun isn’t what’s making you tense.”
