Page 5 of The Biting Bargain

Vincent

One moment,things are normal.

Stepping out of the elevator and rushing down the hall with swift steps, I’m ruling my empire. A thousand scenarios spin in my head, weighing decisions that cause corporate empires to rise and fall. There's the takeover coming up of that company we’ve been targeting for months. I’m still reveling in the high that the admission letter of theSocieta Vergiliitriggered earlier. And all this happens while I’m simultaneously scrolling through stock exchange rates on my phone. You know, things a vampire of well known esteem does on a regular Tuesday. That’s me, being in total control over my universe, a shark in his element, hunting in silence.

The next moment I step through the door.

And there's her ass.

Everything that has just been spinning through my head, filling the perfect clockwork of my mind with plans, schemes and chess moves, comes to a screeching halt.

I stare.

A woman kneels on the floor in front of me, her upper body half under the sofa, fishing with one arm for something underneath. Her skirt is definitely too short for such a stunt, exposing her ass, stretching round and perfect towards me. It's just barely covered by a bright pink piece of fabric that's probably supposed to be panties, but my brain doesn't have the capacity to provide more specific information.

All available blood in my body rushes toward my loins. My body reacts visceral and immediate, knocking the air out of me. And just the fact that this happens at all throws me off track, because it's been a long time since I've felt what's pumping through my veins like burning gasoline right now.

Desire.

Pure and raging.

What the fuck?

I shake my head slightly, trying to focus, but the world keeps spinning like someone has just sucker-punched me. A growl escapes deep from my chest like that of a hungry animal. I barely manage to intercept it and turn it into a throat clearing.

The woman flinches and wheels around, kneeling on the floor. Dark green eyes focus on me, giving me the deer in the headlights stare.

"Oh," she gushes.

"What are you doing on the floor?" I sound honestly puzzled — which I am. And that's not like me at all. I’m Vincent Renard, powerful CEO of the global Fuchsbau Empire, whose single command is enough to get entire lines of business fired. A guy like me doesn't ask clueless questions. A guy like me always knows exactly what he’s doing.

But what exactly isshedoing on the floor of the suite where I'm supposed to meet my new drone?

I tuck my phone in my pocket and take off my shades.

The woman startles and turns, still kneeling on the floor, wide eyes fixed on me as if I were the proverbial wolf that blindsided her in the woods. She’s very young, by human standards anyway. Her face is round, nose speckled with freckles. Butterscotch curls stand tangled around her head.

She is nothing special at all but my throat tightens as my still-shaken mind conjures up another mental image. Her, kneeling on the floor, exactly like she’s now. But without that dress, which reveals more than it hides anyway. Only lush curves, sun-kissed skin. And a collar around her slender neck. Attached to a leash that I hold in my hand.

Holy fuck, what's going on?

"I was just looking for this," she says, her voice a little deeper than one would expect, tiny as she is. It’s a pleasant voice. But before I can explore that thought further, she's holding out her hand, holding a wooden sphere.

I blink at her uncomprehendingly, still squashing down the delectable image of her naked, leashed version in front of me, as once again the rumbling in my chest goes off like an internal combustion engine.

Hunt her, something snarls in the back of my mind. Keep her. Mate her.

What the fuck?

I give myself a sharp mental shake. Whatever is going on here, it stops now! Clawing for self-control, I step forward, reach for her hand holding the sphere, and help her rise to her feet.

Touching her is the next mistake. The contact with her soft, warm skin chases up my arm like an electric shock. That dark urge in the back of my mind snarls once more.

"I'm sorry, I knocked over the sculpture," she blurts out, pointing at the table. There is a bowl with more wooden balls of different sizes piled up haphazardly.

"I didn’t do it on purpose," she goes on, and I can’t help but stare at her lips moving.

"I scooped them up and put them back, but I have no idea in what order they belong in the bowl, and this one is supposed to sit on top, I guess, but it’s all jumbled up now and I’ve probably just destroyed a million-dollar piece of art that was probably part of the cultural heritage of mankind or something, and this my first day at this job! Please don't rat me out to Jasmin!"

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