Page 8 of Big Bad Wolf

And why should they? They worked hard and fought tooth and nail to be there. While I complain daily that it’s the last place I want to be. I should be more grateful, but it’s difficult to appreciate something you’ve never wanted.

The boss, also known as Senator Rossi, also known as my dad, hired me without an interview or approval from his chief of staff. I’m more than qualified to do the nonsense job he created for me, but I don’t receive a fraction of the work assigned to my peers. Technically, I’m the assistant to the senator’s spouse. It's a fancy way of saying I run errands from morning until noon and then spend the second half of the day helping my stepmother organize her agenda.

Typically, she does almost nothing but drink lattes and shop, but this is a campaign year, and she’s been forced to give speeches on his behalf. Donna is camera-ready and a force of nature when fueled with enough espresso and handed the right cards to read. That may be the most essential part of my job—securing her favorite coffee and organizing her flash cards.

It’s humiliating.

No one cares that I graduated summa cum laude from a competitive business program at an Ivy League school. No one knows I’m on a first-name basis with his wealthiest donors and can cite his voting record off the top of my head. As much as I hate working for my father, I refuse to be window dressing.

Today, I plan to approach my father about joining him in Washington when the Senate reconvenes in November. He can send someone else to babysit Donna. Connections are critical in the fashion industry, and although the men of Capitol Hill are not exactly the kind of customers we plan to target, they’re still men with wives and daughters who might enjoy being styled by thegreatNatasha Pushkin—once they’ve heard of her.

Besides, I need something to take my mind off the smoking-hot Russian gangster who magically appears around every corner. Vasily Volkov is certifiably insane. He’s relentless. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since he barged into my world last week. I used to do grocery runs in pajamas and sneakers. Every day, I’m forced to shower, shave, style my hair, and look presentable, just in case we have another accidental run-in. It’s exhausting.

I won’t deny that I’m mildly flattered. Despite Vasily's odd behavior, there’s no denying he’s beautiful. He’s six feet seven inches of solid muscle with piercing green eyes that see straight into your soul. I can’t help myself. It was a momentary lapse in judgment that I’ll soon correct with the common sense I’ve relied on since childhood. For now, I’ll give him grace he doesn’t deserve.

I know that sounds weak. But when you’re in the middle of a man drought, every drop of rain feels incredible. Until you get pummeled by a tsunami and realize maybe the drought wasn’t so bad.

Yesterday, he crossed the line when he proclaimed—not asked—that we’ll be going out tomorrow evening. He doesn’t know I’m not available. He said he’d find me but I won’t be home. I’m spending tonight and most of tomorrow at my parent’s brownstone.

Good luck tracking me down, big guy.

If Vasily were a banker, artist, or even a horrible stockbroker, I could at least introduce him to my parents and take him as a plus-one to weddings. What good is a boyfriend if I can’t show him off?

Boyfriend?What am I saying?I’m losing my mind. Pretty soon, we’ll be perfect for one another.

“Miss Rossi?” A beefy man dressed in black stands by the curb on the passenger side of a stretch SUV. He holds open the door and politely draws my attention to the backseat. “Your father’s office asked me to fetch you. They said he needs you in the office as soon as possible.”

I look him up and down, then side to side, inspecting him and the unfamiliar vehicle. Donna knows the subway is faster than traveling through Manhattan’s morning rush hour. This doesn’t make sense.

“Who sent you?” I ask, needing confirmation and hoping to trip him up. There’s something fishy about his sudden appearance with no warning. I know Donna can be a bit of a scatterbrain, but I’m pretty sure she would have given me a last-minute notice that my father was sending a car.

He removes a card from his pocket and reads the name. “Mrs. Donna Rossi. She said you need to review a few last-minute things before your trip to Albany tomorrow morning.” He pauses, angling his head as he appears to gauge my expression, then continues. “And she needs you to run to the Saks to grab the dress she left with the seamstress yesterday. I’m supposed to take you there. By the way, my name is Ralph.”

I exhale with relief and let my tense shoulders drop. A strange man asking me to hop into his car put me on high alert. I’ve watched enough crime shows to know it never ends well if you allow a kidnapper to take you to a second location. But this guy knows too much to be a random stranger trolling unsuspecting girls on Central Park West. I planned to head to Sak’s in the afternoon, but it makes sense that Donna would want to ensure it fits before packing for Albany. There certainly won’t be time tonight.

“Can we head straight to there? I hate getting off schedule.” I hand Ralph my work bag, and he helps me into the car, gently gathering my coat to ensure he doesn’t slam the door on it.

“On second thought, could we make a quick stop for coffee on the way to Sak’s? I typically pick one up on my walk to the station, and I’ve got a long day in front of me,” I holler into the front seat, apologizing immediately for the volume of my voice but checking to make sure he heard me. I hate sounding flaky, but I wasn’t expecting a chauffeur-driven ride to the office, and I may as well use him.

“Of course.” Ralph tips his hat and smiles through the rearview mirror, checking his blind spot before entering traffic. “There’s a place on the corner of 72nd and Columbus. Will that work?”

I breathe a sigh of relief, desperate for caffeine and dreading having to make do with the muddy water they serve in Dad’s office. There’s no way I’ll survive through the evening. Donna’s light-roast blend hardly makes a dent in my addiction.

“That’s perfect. If you’d like to take a lap around the block, I’ll run in and grab my coffee. Would you like something for yourself? If there’s a line, I’ll order through their app.” I sling my purse over my shoulder and grab my coat, preparing to jump out as soon as we reach the curb.

As the car rolls to a stop, the door swings open, and a gust of wind takes me by surprise. I look over my shoulder and find Ralph sitting like a statue, staring at Columbus Avenue traffic and waiting to merge as soon I give him the signal.What’s happening?Confused, I look at my gloved hand, wondering if I pulled the handle without realizing it. There’s no time to worry about it now. With cars honking and adrenaline pumping, I hop out of the car and run face-first into what feels like a brick wall.

“You’ve got terrible instincts. That’s going to get you in trouble one day.” A deep voice materializes inches over my head, and a giant tattooed hand lands on my shoulder, nudging me backward toward the car. Vasily Volkov lifts me off the sidewalk and cradles me into his arms. I’m too stunned to protest as he slides me into the backseat and follows me. Without another word to me, he slams the door and instructs Ralph to take the long way to my father’s office.

“My instincts?” I stammer, too disoriented to process the kidnapping in progress.

Vasily may be a stranger, but he doesn’t feel out of place in my world. According to Tasha, he’s a psychopath who can’t be trusted. If that’s true, then my instincts must stink. Because he doesn’t scare me nearly as much as he should.

“There are wolves everywhere,Little Red. You should be more careful.” Vasily’s deep, gravelly voice makes me shiver, my skin prickling with a mix of fear and lust. The strange combination is not lost on me.

“Wolves?” I sound like a parrot, repeating his words and struggling to find any of my own. “Is that what you are?”

“What do you think?” he groans and gently brushes his thumb against my bottom lip.

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