Page 16 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
Not her hand or even her shoulder.
I didn’t wrap my hand around her neck in a threatening chokehold; my hands were on that tiny waist.
Maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal to the guy next door, but for me, it was. Touching women was only ever for one purpose: It was either business or pleasure. Friendly or casual touches weren’t my thing. I had female business partners and clients, but a formal handshake was the highest extent of physical exchange between us. Even the few whose desires to explore the pleasure aspect I once acquiesced to knew better than initiating anything more than a handshake during business.
I had no medical basis for an allergy to touch; I just didn’t do it casually.
The requisite touch shared while dancing with whoever my date was at Bratva galas was one of my biggest headaches about such events. It was something I braced myself for before each event and looked back at with utter dissatisfaction after.
Touching her was neither business nor pleasure; it was purposeless.
I had no reason to do it, I just wanted to.
More like I just had to.
Her defiance undoubtedly made being in her presence more interesting. But that didn’t explain my getting within intimate distance and then touching her.
If this—whatever it is—continues, it might begin to affect my calm.
And I’d burn before I let that happen.
My phone vibrated against my chest, and I took it out of my suit’s inner pocket.
“Luka,” I uttered.
“Boss, Sergei told me you left for the warehouse.”
“I did.”
“Should I join you there? I have an update on the Sivella Holdings situation.”
“No need. I’ll be back at the estate by midnight.”
“Okay, Boss.”
“Have you checked on her lately?” I asked, immediately telling myself I didn’t need to.
“No, sir. Aside from occasionally banging the door, she’s been quiet.”
“She’s been there for hours. Have someone bring her food,” I instructed.
“Oh…okay, Boss.”
An email came in right after I ended the call. I was busy reading the report when Dimitri opened my door.
“Boss,” he stated, nodding in greeting as I stepped out of the car.
Katria’s attack attempt flashed in my mind as I peeled off my suit and hung it. I chuckled as I rehashed the unexpected but totally impressive occurrence. I wasn’t exactly surprised that she was so annoyed to the point of wanting to hit me. I had only met her a few hours ago, but I had seen enough proof of her defiance and stubbornness.
Yet, randomly picking up a tumbler and smashing it against the wall was a height I wouldn’t have thought she’d reach. She hid it fairly well, but I still saw how she flinched at the pain of the glass injuring her hand when she broke it. Still, the hot-headed, green-eyed girl went on to target my throat.
The knock on my door sounded, and as I answered with a curt, “Come in,” I knew it wasn’t good news.
“Good evening, Boss,” Maximilian greeted, standing by the door, which he shut behind him.
“Evening. What is it?” I questioned, uncuffing my shirt sleeve as I sat in my chair.
“There has been a problem with one of our deliveries,” he informed, his face grim.
