Page 15 of The Boss's Temptation

But I do, of course. And I blush. Micheal smirks. His eyes singe me.

“Don’t play temptress with me, little girl,” he snarls. “Whatever your game is, it’s time to quit it.” He smirks again. His eyes drop to his erection. Again, he does nothing to hide it. “I see the way this makes you blush,” he grunts.

“I—”

“My quarters and my office are off limits. Stay the fuck out of them,” he snarls. “Is that understood?”

I nod quickly. My heart is racing. There’s a knot in my stomach and a throb in my core. Fear, desire. Fear, desire.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay in this house, near him, before those warring emotions tear me in two.

7

Micheal

There arenights I sleep badly. Others, I don’t sleep at all. Tonight, is night two of Katrina being in my home. And it’s looking to be the latter.

I swirl the scotch around the glass and stare into it. Sometimes a drink or two helps. But other times, it just gets the gears in my head going. Tonight, the wheels are turning nonstop.

I lost control this morning. I know that. I’ve been telling myself all day that it was instinctual: that I perceived a threat and neutralized it like I’ve done my whole life. I’ve lied to myself about what she was doing in my room. I’ve told myself she was snooping—playing the spy, just like Anton instructed her to be.

But I know what she was really looking at. I just don’t want to admit that. Admitting that means admitting this forbidden attraction goes both ways. And that’s dangerous. If I tell myself she’s scared of me, and that the desire is only coming from my side, I can fight it. I’m not a monster, after all.

But if I acknowledge that it’s a two-way street, I’m in trouble. If I let myself dwell on the way I’ve seen her look at me—at parts of me—I’m going to lose control. And I can’t lose control with her. I can’t.

I won’t lie. There’s a pridefulness and a smugness that comes from what happened. I’m not vain, but I’ve worked hard to keep myself in shape. I work out. I swim. I eat right, most of the time. I got to where I am by being tough and being able to hold my own. And I haven’t let power make me soft. That includes my physique.

Catching Katrina playing peeping Tom on me has me feeling more than a little smug. It’s had me more than a little hard all goddamn day, too. My thoughts have wandered. I’ve mused about what may have happened if I hadn’t woken up and startled her. The thought of her delicate fingers curling around my thickness have me groaning. The image of her wet lips kissing my swollen head have me…

I growl and slam my fist down on my desk. Part of me wonders ifthiswas Anton’s plan all along; to throw Katrina into my world and watch me drown in my conflicting desires.

I slam back my drink and reach for my phone. My thumb hovers over the call button, but I hesitate. This is the other part of this that’s fucking with my head. It’s not only that I’m wondering what role Katrina is really playing here. It’s that this isn’t a temporary arrangement. She’s going to be my fucking wife. Salvestro has willed it, and I know that his word is law. But I know that means I need to have a conversation with my daughter at some point. Bellamy needs to know I’m going to be getting married again, even if it’s an arrangement like this.

But I pull my thumb away and put the phone down. I tell myself it’s that I don’t want to interrupt her and Vincent’s vacation in the Florida Keys. My son-in-law and second-in-command has been busting his ass for the family. He’s earned the break, and Bellamy deserves it to.

I know that’s not the biggest reason I don’t call though. I know it’s that I’m not even sure how the fuck to have this conversation. It’s not just that I’m getting married. It isn’t even the fact that it’s an arranged business move. It’s the “who.” I’m hesitating because the woman I’m marrying is barely a woman at all. Twenty fucking years my junior. And she’s a Korolyov.

Bellamy might not know all the details of the past involving our family and that one. But she knows enough. She knows I’ve told her to stay the fuck away from them. And here I am goddamn marrying one of them.

I sit back in my office chair. I drum my fingers on the armrests. I try and wrestle my thoughts onto work. This is never a problem for me, because my work is my life, happily so. Except right now, trying to think about work isn’t coming easily. And there’s a fairly obvious reason why: Katrina.

My mind wanders to the gorgeous, tempting little redhead staying under my very roof. I do my damndest not to, but my thoughts instantly go back to her dropping her dress yesterday. I replay every single curve of her almost totally naked body. I groan, letting the memory play out. My cock hardens.

Fuck, it’s like I’ve been hard ever since she walked into that goddamn conference room.

But it also isn’t just a physical craving. Yes, I want her. Christ, I want her in every fucking way a man can want a woman. But there’s something more to it. I’ve looked at plenty of beautiful women before. I’ve felt the physical pull of lust. But no woman has ever beguiled me like this before. No woman has ever lingered in my head like this.

There’s mystery surrounding Katrina. Part of it I’m sure is the fucked-up arrangement we find ourselves in. But another part of it is that she’s clearly been hurt before. There’s a delicateness to her that brings something fierce out in me. It makes me want to protect her. It makes me want to keep her away from the world that made her so afraid.

The mix of wanting to protect her and wanting to fuck her senseless has my head spinning. It has my cock hard in a very, very confusing way as well.

She’s been a ghost, avoiding me ever since what played out this morning. But then, I’ve been avoiding her too. Because I don’t trust myself. I keep telling myself that I have no interest in her—that this is a business decision that’s been forced on me. And maybe it is, but that doesn’t mean having no interest in her is true. In fact, that’s a bold fucking lie.

I have alotof interest in her. Too much, really.

I drum my fingers on the chair again. I shake my head. This is absurd. I’m letting this whole situation get into my fucking head. I’ve made it to where I am today by being decisive, not by dwelling. It isn’t like me to let things go unaddressed like this.

With a grunt, I stand abruptly. I’m not doing this anymore. I’m not going to play this game with her. Avoiding this situation does nothing. At some point in the future, sooner than later and like it or not, Katrina is going to be my wife.

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