by Lora Leigh
She wasn’t going to beg, but dammit, she didn’t want to lose this job.
“Sit down, Emma,” he ordered, though not unkindly, as he extended his hand toward one of the comfortable chairs.
It was then her gaze was caught by the child sleeping on the sofa along the wall next to where her boss sat. The little girl lay on her stomach, long white-blond curls trailing over her shoulder as she clutched a ragged, stuffed Tigger.
The little girl was the image of her mother, Nik’s wife, but with her father’s light blue eyes and white-blond hair.
Nikita Steele, little Niki, her mother, Mikayla, called her.
Emma Jane lowered her head as Nik sat down, and tried not to allow herself to show the anger she felt at the situation.
“I talked to Ilya and Ivan earlier.” His statement and familiarity with the two men had her head jerking up in surprise. His lips quirked in amusement. “I wouldn’t leave you to deal with this alone after helping to set up the safe house. You’re family, girl, and I know what family means.”
Frowning, she stared back at him, trying to make sense of that one.
“It was you that had Ilya consider the house?” She hadn’t expected that, even though he’d been a part of the negotiations.
“Of course, like I said, you’re family, and Matt was pressing where your home was concerned. I was merely waiting for them to activate their lease and begin your training. As they hadn’t begun using the house or ordered that training yet, I’ll let them live for now,” he stated.
He smiled, kind of, but the look in his eyes reminded her of Ilya when he first arrived at her house and saw the destruction of her bedroom. A promise of violence.
“It wasn’t their fault,” she assured him, wishing he’d just fire her and get it over with. “I know Ilya’s trying to take the blame for it. I can’t imagine why anyone would believe he was there that night…” In her bed, in her body.
“Be that as it may.” He shuffled a few papers on his desk until he seemed to have the right one before him. “When you come in tomorrow, you’ll find the front glass of the office replaced. The opaque bullet-resistant glass was something I was having done soon anyway, I merely sped up the schedule on it. And I’ll be at your home later this evening with a crew to overhaul the security. I can’t allow assholes to cost me my best employee or one of Mikayla’s favorite cousins, now can I?”
A new security system? She knew the types of fees Nik charged and there was no way she could afford it.
Emma stared back at him suspiciously. “Ilya wants the security changed, right?”
Nik was a good man, but he was still a business owner. He didn’t provide such a job for free when it would cost him thousands in equipment and labor.
He laughed at that, though the sound was low, careful of the sleeping child.
“Let’s say I informed both Ilya as well as Ivan of the price and the fact that they were paying it,” he informed her, daring her to object with a single firm look. “Sorry, Emma, but quiet little receptionists aren’t ever attacked in such a way for no reason. And I’m a damned nosy man. You know that. I want to know why my receptionist was attacked.”
Yes, he was a nosy man, but now her debt to Ivan Resnova had only gone higher. Nik’s security services weren’t cheap, as she well knew. It would add a hefty amount to the already large lien against her home.
At least she still had a job, she thought dismally.
“Thank you, Nik, but I would prefer that you send me a bill instead,” she said quietly.
He grunted at that. “Stop looking so morose. Ivan won’t tack the bill toward your home, I promise you that. He’s an ass, but he doesn’t go back on his word or his deals.”
“But he didn’t expect this…” she tried to protest.
“He should have,” Nik cut the protest off firmly. “I should have secured the house myself last year. Ilya’s good at what he does, but I’m here and I know a few tricks he might not have thought of. Had I done the work, the hounds of hell would have heard those alarms at the first attempt to breach the door. Mikayla and I don’t live that far from you, either. I’d have been there within minutes. When Ilya and I put our heads together and get this system installed, a draft won’t be able to sneak in.”
This was so out of control. She didn’t want her family or her friends endangered.
Emma pushed her fingers through her hair, fighting to make sense of this new reality.
“You shouldn’t be involved…” she tried to speak again.
“Don’t make me fire you,” he stated, his voice hardening. “You’re not just an employee, Emma, you’re family, and a friend as well. We’ll figure this out, and I have no doubt in my mind this has nothing to do with you personally.”
How could it not?
“No one knew about my agreement with Brute Force or Mr. Resnova,” she protested. “It had to be personal.”
“You keep telling yourself that.” He stared back at her, his expression concerned now. “But trust me in this, Emma, if one of those two is involved, you can bet, someway, somehow, it’s their fault.”
As he spoke, the door to the front office opened and Ilya entered the room.
“And I thought we were friends, Nik,” Ilya stated, his expression mocking, his light green eyes stroking over her before they went once again to Nik.
Immediately, Emma felt breathless.
The air in the office felt heavier, warmer, and her body felt the change. It sensitized and the memory of that single kiss slammed into her senses.
She’d felt for certain that some time away from him and his effect on her would prove that it wasn’t really as intense as she’d felt it. The hours away from him had only increased it though.
Damn it.
Damn him.
Because she couldn’t afford to allow her senses to become so immersed in him. She couldn’t allow herself to give in to the attraction to him. She knew herself far too well, and she knew he was a risk to her heart.
Just as she’d known it a year ago.
There would be no maintaining a careful distance where it came to Ilya.
“Of course we’re friends.” Nik grinned as he rose to his towering six and a half feet tall to shake hands with Ilya. “As long as you keep my assistant and one of my wife’s favorite cousins safe. She gets hurt, I’m gonna get pissed.”
Assistant? The last she’d heard, she was still a receptionist. Did a promotion in name only come with a pay raise? she wondered. And since when was her cousin ever dangerous?
“Of course,” Ilya agreed. “I never imagined differently.”
The look he gave her caressed her, warmed her, reminded her of the wicked, sensual dreams and his habit of throwing her senses into chaos.
“I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” Rising quickly to her feet, Emma moved to escape the office.
She had to get away from him. She hadn’t even noticed a testosterone abundance in the air until he stepped into the room. Now her femininity felt embraced, surrounded by it. She’d never felt this before, never felt so much a woman nor so very in need of a man’s touch.
“Emma Jane.” The lowering of his voice stopped her, but the gentle hand on her upper arm held her. “I’m having lunch with Sawyer after this meeting if you’d like to join me.”
She paused, her eyes narrowing on him. It was smooth, it was subtle, but she heard the order in his tone. He wasn’t suggesting or asking for a damned thing. He was demanding it.
“Lucky for you, that’s a meeting I wouldn’t want to miss,” she assured him. “So, I believe I will join you.”
His lips twitched, but before he could comment she pulled free of him and swept from the office to return to her own desk.
* * *
The snap of the door wasn’t loud and it didn’t disturb the child sleeping on the sofa, but Ilya knew it was no accident. Emma Jane was just giving him a hint of her displeasure. Not quite a taste, but enough to have anticipation stirring in places it h
adn’t stirred in years.
“Mess my assistant’s heart up and I’ll shoot you,” Nik threatened as Ilya took the chair that still held Emma Jane’s heat.
The other man was actually glaring at him, rather like her overprotective brother had done. The threat wasn’t one Ilya could discount though. In the years since Nik Steele had been a soldier in the Russian Army, under a different name and in a different life, the threat he could be had only grown stronger.
They had never been enemies, thankfully, but they’d never been friends either in those days.
“I’ll guard her with my own life, I’ve already assured you of this,” Ilya reminded him.
Nik merely narrowed his eyes on him for a moment before a vaguely uncomfortable look of amused knowledge crossed his expression.
“I’ll accept that.” Nik nodded rather than saying anything more or threatening him further. “I’ll be at the house with my men this evening to install the system if you sign off on it.” He pushed a file across his desk. “She’s under the impression Ivan’s paying for it. I’d suggest you not tell her any differently for a while.”
Ivan wasn’t paying for the system, though he’d offered to. Unfortunately, according to the contract that cost would have been added to the lien should it be proven the threat had nothing to do with her agreement with them. Ilya had taken the cost himself, rather than risk that. Not that he believed for a moment that Emma Jane had such enemies. The fact of the matter was, he took her security quite personally and would handle it himself. Ivan could just pay him back later.
“I would have already discussed it with her had that been my intent,” he informed Nik before opening the file and turning his attention to it. “She’s an independent little thing. She’d be upset.”
Nik snorted at that.
“‘Independent’ is a mild description. Emma is determined that no one will ever take advantage of her heart, her reputation, or her family name ever again. Her ex-husband did both while they were together, and he still makes the occasional attempt.”
Ilya didn’t bother to look up from the proposal Nik had put together. “He won’t make that mistake again. I’ll ensure it.”
That was next on his to-do list. The visit he had planned would ensure Matt Lauren never again shadowed his ex-wife’s life. Not by the mention of her name or by anyone she associated with.
The man had managed to gain credit with various businesses and managed to ensure that debt with Emma Jane’s name before their divorce. She owed thousands because of him. The only reason her credit hadn’t been ruined was because those bills were all local and Emma made regular payments on them.
Ilya had already arranged to pay off the creditors and secure their silence in that regard. He’d make a visit himself to see Matt Lauren and to make sure the other man knew where and when to begin repayment. Emma Jane would no longer receive balances on those debts or demands for payment. It was ridiculous that her father or brother had allowed it to begin with.
She demanded they stay out of it, Ronan Preston had told Ilya. She had begged to be allowed to deal with her own problems, her father had explained.
He wasn’t about to discuss it with her. And in the future he’d make certain no one else took such advantage of her.
“You do know she’s liable to shoot you with that gun of hers if she catches you interfering in her life. Don’t you?” The amusement in Nik’s voice grated. Mostly because he was right.
“Then don’t tell her.” Looking up from the file long enough to give the other man one of the blank stares others found so intimidating, he was met with a low chuckle rather than fear.
“Oh, I won’t say a word,” Nik promised. “That doesn’t mean she won’t find out.”
She wouldn’t find out.
Ilya had that covered. He knew how to intimidate. He’d been taught when he was no more than a boy how to make certain his wishes were carried out.
Emma Jane could maintain her independence and be none the wiser.
chapter eight
It took her boss and two of his installers several hours to replace her security system with one Ilya felt would ensure her safety. A new door on her bedroom, one complete with a dead bolt of all things. An alarm would go to the sheriff, Nik, and Ilya’s cell phone and her parents’ home phone.
By time they left, the mental tally of the expense of the system, new doors in her bedroom and at the front and back, had her ready to hyperventilate.
She remained silent, refusing to quarrel with Ilya in front of Nik and his men, but the minute they drove from the house, she turned to him slowly as they stood on the porch. Staring up at him, she let herself pay attention to the dragon’s head as it rested at his brow.
At the moment, it merely watched as though waiting to be amused.
“My children, if I ever have any, will be repaying this debt to Mr. Resnova,” she informed him, irritation raking at her senses. “And don’t tell me they won’t be, because I don’t believe you.”
She placed her hands at her hips, trying to appear more intimidating than she actually was. Short and round did not make for an imposing presence.
“Emma Jane.” The placating tone of his voice set a flame to her temper that she was certain would burn out of control. “All this would have been done once your home was activated as a safe house and placed in the system our agents can access. We simply hadn’t gotten around to it.”
They simply hadn’t gotten around to it yet?
“We signed the papers last year,” she reminded him, watching him through narrowed eyes now. “I should have already been in the system.”
And here she’d wondered why no one had arrived to hide in her home. Not that she’d been particularly eager to have such dangerous company. She wasn’t. But she’d made the commitment to do it. Having her home not listed for use smacked of charity, and she wanted no one’s charity.
She watched as he shrugged negligently, his broad shoulders tensing and shifting beneath the fine white cotton shirt he wore.
His expression was just bland as hell, his green eyes gazing back at her calmly as she glared at him.
“Sometimes these things take time, and I have been a rather busy man in the past months,” he finally said calmly. “Are you ready to go in now? We can warm up the food I had delivered earlier.”
The food he had delivered her ass. Oh, it had been delivered all right, from a restaurant she knew for a fact did not deliver. And it smelled divine.
“You’re being manipulative, Ilya,” she told him as she entered the house ahead of him. “I don’t like it. And I won’t warn you again.”
Stepping into the kitchen, she moved for the refrigerator where the Styrofoam containers waited. Before she’d done more than reach the center island, she found herself pulled to a stop and swung around to face him.
“Your mistake is in warning me the first time.” His voice was still low, calm, but something seethed in his expression and seemed to darken the tattoo at the side of his face.
Her lips parted, her intent to inform him just how little she appreciated his high-handedness rising angrily to her lips.
Until his lips covered hers in a kiss.
She hadn’t known how much she’d craved his touch, craved it so deep, so desperately, that the moment his lips covered hers the anger dissipated and need rose instead. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in, and she lifted to her toes to get closer, to take his kiss deeper.
He tasted of coffee and male hunger. His tongue licked against hers, teased her, tempted her. He made her forget the fact that he was dangerous, that he could be criminal. All she cared about was the pleasure.
She was only barely aware of him lifting her to the kitchen island and sliding between her thighs. The full skirt of her dress was no hindrance at all, bunching easily at her thighs and spilling over them. It bared the thin cotton of her panties and enabled the hard ridge of his cock behind the material of his slacks to press, to rub …
&nb
sp; It was exquisite.
Oh God. It was so good. She’d never known so much pleasure as Ilya’s kiss, as the feel of his hardened flesh pressing into her.
“Damn, the taste of you,” he muttered, his lips releasing hers, sliding along her jaw, her neck.
Tiny bursts of electric pleasure sizzled beneath the sensitive skin of her neck. They wreaked havoc with her senses, with the sensitive nerve endings. Each rake of his teeth, lick of his tongue, and fiery kisses spread along the column of her tongue left her crying out at the unfamiliar sensations.
She’d never known pleasure like this with any other touch.
She’d never reacted to her husband so easily and with such heat.
“Emma Jane, how sweet you are.” The rasp of his voice and the stroke of her lips along her shoulder, the valley between her breasts, had her shaking and gasping for air.
“The taste of you…”
Emma jerked, crying out as Ilya’s lips covered her nipple, surrounded it with heat, and began sucking it heatedly.
Her breasts were bare, the buttons on the bodice of her dress parted, the material spread open, and her bra unclasped. She only barely felt the material surrendering to his fingers, and now she was surrendering to his marauding lips and tongue.
“Ilya…” She needed to protest this, she did. “Oh God, Ilya…”
Her fingers flexed in his hair, tightened, holding him to her.
The feel of his lips tugging at her nipple, his tongue lashing it, was too much. Between her thighs, the rasp of material against the swollen flesh of her clit was a torment she couldn’t resist.
She felt empty, hot.
She felt surrounded by pleasure. Wicked, carnal hunger and pleasure unlike any she’d ever known. Sensual, erotic, the sensations would become addictive.
And he’d leave.
She knew he’d leave.
A sob tore from her lips as his lips moved to her other nipple and one hand to her thigh. So close to that aching, swollen flesh. She was slick and hot, and she wanted nothing more than to be taken. Right there, on her kitchen island, where she’d never be able to forget …
