Page 51 of Beneath Scarred Vows
"Like strategic alliance work out, or happily ever after work out?"
I laugh. "Get out of here."
He leaves and then pops his head back in. "Oh, that tea you asked me to bring—I gave it to Alex."
"Thanks, Dimitri. I appreciate it."
He nods and leaves.
I down my whiskey and lean back in my chair, my mind churning with Dimitri's update. We're no closer to finding who killed my father, and it's eating at me from the inside. It's on my mind so much, only Katerina can rival it.
I glance at the security feeds—watching, waiting, searching for threats that seem to hide in every shadow.
I shake my head and decide to focus on work. Six new contracts for shipping carriers need to be looked over and signed.
An hour passes in silence before I hear a soft knock at my office door.
"Come in," I call out, expecting Alex with my nightly house report.
Instead, Katerina steps in, wearing an oversized black T-shirt that barely falls to her upper thighs and white ankle socks. Her hair is loosely wrapped in a bun, and a few strands fall on either side, framing her beautiful face. My body responds instantly, a lustful desire igniting within me at the sight of her long, bare legs.
I notice she's holding a small wooden box in her hands and has a genuine smile spreading across her face—one I'm still getting used to seeing.
"Hi," she says and holds up the box. "How did you?—?"
I smile and shift in my chair. "Dimitri. I told him to pick up a couple boxes for someone special."
I see her cheeks turn a slight red.
"I just can't believe you remembered," she says, placing the tea box on my desk and trailing her fingers over the carved wooden lid.
I lean back in my chair. "Of course. Why would I not remember your favorite tea?"
She'd mentioned it only once, weeks ago, when I found her staring at an empty tea canister in the kitchen. Her favorite Greek brand—unavailable here in the States. She'd looked so disappointed I made a mental note to have Dimitri bring some back.
"Thank you." Her voice is soft. "I can't wait to have it tomorrow morning. I'll make sure to ration them."
I laugh. "What? My wife doesn't ration. You run out, I get you more. That's how things work."
She smiles. "And if I drink them all tonight?"
I narrow my eyes at her. "Then we're on an AM flight to Kalamata."
She nods, a smirk on her face that tells me she's testing me—but I'd do it.
She sighs and walks around my office, her fingers trailing over the spines of books, touching the edge of my desk. This is new—her exploring my space freely, without hesitation or fear. I watch her, fascinated by this shift.
"What are you working on?" she asks, glancing at the papers scattered across my desk.
"Business." An automatic response. I need to work on those.
She raises an eyebrow. "Always so specific."
I smile. "People want to use our ships to bring things into the U.S. They tell me how many containers they need, I tell them how much, and they pay. Boring stuff, see?"
She shakes her head. "No, it's interesting to know how things work, you know? Maybe one day I can help you."
"Maybe," I nod, "but you might be busy."
