by Miranda Kavi
Ana’s eyes widened. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with everything. We are really concerned about you.”
“We?” Sophia said.
“The board. We want to make sure you are well taken care of,” she said.
“You mean you want to make sure I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” Sophia retorted. “Don’t worry,” she took her elbows off the desk and turned to her computer again, “I won’t say a word…for now.”
She stared at her screen, opened her email, and started reading. After a couple of minutes, the chair creaked as Ana stood up and left her office.
Sophia pulled out her notebook and returned her attention to the joint venture agreement.
She wrote some of the company names listed in the contract: LAMBZZ Holdings, PT124 Upstream XYZ, LexyZ LLC. She didn’t recognize any of them, and the names seemed like randomly chosen letters. It was weird.
The agreement was a joint venture for the purpose of exploring oil and gas properties in Liberia and Brazil. She wrote that down, too.
She finally shut the folder down and opened her email again. She should probably actually get some work done today.
Her interview schedule was actually pretty full, and she had several requisitions to go over.
She took a swig of her coffee. It made her think of the coffee she had dropped in the hallway to EBCasp, which made her think of Dmitri, which made her think of his...
Damn it. She was aroused just thinking about him and his sea green eyes and handsome face and sensuous body. Even the thought of him with the gun in his hand, commanding everyone was not scary anymore. It was...sexy.
She flinched. She was wrong to think those things. Dmitri was wrong. What they did was wrong.
She pulled out the small yellow slip of paper with Gram’s phone number. She started to rip it into small pieces, but after only a tiny tear she stopped. She shoved it on the corner of her desk under an ugly paperweight she had received on her five year anniversary with the company.
Not yet. She had some more digging to do.
She shoved her less than pure thoughts to the side and focused on her requisitions. She was a professional, damn it.
“Sophia?” Marsha was leaning on her doorframe.
“Yes?”
“I’m headed out for lunch. Want me to grab you anything?” she asked.
“No, I’m going out myself. Thanks.”
She gathered her purse, logged out of her computer, and started towards her door. She stared at the little yellow note under the paperweight before shoving it deep inside her purse.
She purchased a sandwich from one of the cafeterias in the company’s complex before planting herself on a shaded bench under a tree to eat in peace. When she had first interviewed at Red Bluff International after college, she thought it looked like a college campus. She didn’t think that now, since college had been a fun, carefree place.
The neatly trimmed grass, artfully placed ponds, and breezeways that connected the series of fifteen story buildings were no longer cheery and bright; they were the outward signs of a too-rich oil company with dirty hands.
Of course, she was no saint.
She looked down at her hands, remembering the feel of Dmitri’s hard body beneath them. The fire that connected them when they touched. It was the first time she felt anything in a long time. She’d been...still inside, since Josh. She swallowed back the tears at the thought of him.
No. I can’t. I won’t.
She crumpled her sandwich wrapper and walked back to her office. She had more research to do.
Chapter 5
Sophia spent the rest of her day ensconced in her office, reviewing the contracts in the folder, and taking notes. By the end of the day, she was pitifully behind in her requisitions, but had a long list of corporate names and notes on the documents she had read. She cursed herself for not taking more business law classes. She only had a rudimentary understanding of corporate entities.
She left, taking her notebook with her. The crumpled piece of yellow paper still occupied a corner of her purse.
She practically ran to her car, mind filled with the jumbled thoughts of all the research she had done. It was starting to darken outside, filling the edges of the structure with thick shadows. When did it get so late?
One of the shadows moved. Her hairs stood on end, warning her that she was being watched very carefully.
The man shifted again, deeper into the shadows.
She picked up her pace and reached her car. She fumbled with her keys before her engine roared to life, automatically locking all the doors around her.
She was safe in her steel cocoon. She peeled out of the garage and took the long way home.
Coincidence. Just a coincidence. Probably someone waiting for a ride or something.
Maybe it was Dmitri.
She wanted to see him. Bad.
After the car rolled to a stop in her designated parking spot at her condominium complex, she fished out the yellow piece of paper and her cell phone. She punched in the numbers and held it to her ear.
What am I doing?
“Gram,” a deep voice answered.
“Um...I’m looking for Dmitri,” she said.
“And you are?”
She couldn’t answer. She shouldn’t be doing this.
“Hello?” he said again.
She hung up and shoved her phone back in her purse. She dropped her forehead to her steering wheel, bumping it lightly.
She desperately wanted to see Dmitri again. But she wouldn’t. No. She would be strong.
She left her car, slamming the door behind her before she changed her mind.
Once inside her condo, she scoured her refrigerator for dinner. It was filled with healthy food. Not what she wanted tonight.
She found an opened bottle of pinot noir in the back of her fridge and a tub of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. Perfect. She sat on the couch, flipped to the news, and used a spoon to scoop the ice cream right out of the rub.
Ice cream was no substitute for sex with dreamy Russian guys, but it was the best she could do for her raging hormones.
She was on her third glass of wine when her phone buzzed with an unknown number.
Was it him?
She sat up straight on her couch and wiped the chocolate off her face. He couldn’t see her, but it seemed right.
“Hello?” she answered, trying to purr like a kitten.
It was a telemarketer. She hung up mid-pitch and sunk back into the couch. She had reached new levels of pathetic.
She was a little tipsy and very hungry for real food now, so she ordered a pizza from the greasy joint down the street. She changed into short cotton shorts and a flimsy camisole top to fend off the inevitable Houston humidity and sank back into her couch.
The chime of her doorbell filled her living room ten minutes later.
“Hold on, I’m coming!” she called. “You guys are so fast!”
She pulled a twenty out of her wallet, pulled her straps up to make sure her camisole was covering most of her cleavage, and threw open the door.
Six feet of Russian hotness filled the frame.
“You called for me,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.
“How did—”
“Caller ID, address in the phonebook,” he responded to her unfinished question. “May I?” He gestured to the inside of her condo.
“Yes, of course, please.” She ran her fingers through her hair to fluff it and then remembered that was something women did when they were self-conscious. Hopefully she didn’t have ice cream smeared across her face.
He stepped through her doorway, brushing her bare arm with his. Tingles rushed through her arm.
She closed the door and locked it behind him. His tall frame dwarfed her abode. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, both of which looked like they were straining to contain his muscles. He didn’t make a sound as he came in. Tension sculp
ted his shoulders and arms. His green eyes moved around her space, taking in her overstuffed couch and recliner, and her bookshelves crammed with books and random knick-knacks from around the world.
She reddened when his eyes rested on the half melted container of ice cream and wine bottle occupying her coffee table.
His shoulders dropped, and a smile blossomed across his face. She liked that smile.
He rotated so he was facing her again. “I am very glad you called, though it helps if you talk when you do. I was worried something was wrong.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “The call got disconnected, and I got caught up with something else.”
“I see,” he said, eyes moving from her to the wine and ice cream.
She laughed, and it made him smile again. “I’m surprised to see you. I thought you were being watched.”
“I was not followed here,” he said.
“Um...okay,” she said. “That’s evasive.”
“Your home is very nice,” he said. “I like it,” he said in Russian.
“Evasive again, but thank you,” she replied. “It’s a bit cluttered. I wasn’t expecting company.”
He stepped closer, closing the space between them. He leaned down so his face was near hers. “Would you like me to leave?” he whispered.
She squirmed under his gaze. “No.”
“I’m glad.” He stepped back and walked into her kitchen. “Very nice,” he mumbled, patting her stainless steel stovetop.
She followed him, admiring him while his back was turned. “I’m sorry, my manners are not very good this evening. Can I offer you something to drink?”
“Whatever you are having is fine,” he said.
She turned away from him so she could get a wine glass from the cabinet. Feeling his eyes on her, she reached for one on the highest shelf, standing on her tiptoes, camisole riding up and exposing her skin. Not so subtle.
His eyes were burning with desire when she turned around, like he wanted to eat her.
And she liked it.
Her insides lurched at the thought of his very skilled mouth on her body again. “Come,” she said, her voice faltering ever so slightly. Hopefully he didn’t notice.
He followed her to the living room. She bent over a little more than she needed to pour him the wine, using her body to block him from view so he wouldn’t see her shaking hands.
She handed him the wine. She sat down on the couch, expecting him to sit, too. But he didn’t.
He wandered around her living room, looking at the pictures on the walls, stooping to examine the objects filling her bookshelves.
“Very interesting.” He stood up, straightening his back.
“Which one?” she asked.
“All of it.” He used his finger to draw a lazy circle around his head.
He stayed on the other side of the room. Was he avoiding being near her?
“Why don’t you come sit?” she said.
“Thank you,” he said. He put his wine glass down then sat down next to her, draping his arm across the back of the sofa.
“Why did you call?” he said.
She stared at her hands while they kneaded nervous circles on her lap. “Because you gave me your contact info,” she said.
“Sophia, please look at me.”
She did. The invisible magnet between them burst to life, pulling them together. His lips lightly brushed hers. She was falling into him when two loud thumps boomed through the room. He moved so fast it was a blur, and she found herself snuggled against empty space.
He was approaching the door, hand poised over the small of his back. “It’s late for company,” he growled.
“Whoa, whoa,” she stood up, “I ordered pizza.”
“Oh,” he said. His shoulders relaxed, and his hands fell to his side.
She brushed passed him, gently propelling him out of her way so she could open the door and pay the pizza delivery boy.
Dmitri eyed the pizza that she slung on the kitchen counter.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked.
“I am a gun owner, yes,” he answered.
“Do you have one on you right now?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why do you think that?”
“More questions. Never answers,” she said. She moved towards him, trapping him in her kitchen. She went closer, brushing her hand down his shoulder to the small of his back. She spun him around so his back was to her. He didn’t object.
There, tucked into the back of his jeans, was a hard lump. She tapped on it. “This,” she said. “This is a gun, which you almost pulled on that poor pizza delivery boy.”
He grabbed her hand, lifted it off his gun and then rotated his body so he was facing her. “Instead the poor boy was faced with a busty woman wearing a flimsy top with no bra. I’m surprised he was able to speak.” Still holding her hand, he pulled her close, pushing his body into hers. She could feel his excitement pressing into her hip. “I’m surprised I’m able to speak.”
She shifted into him, feeling his warmth through her clothes.
He stepped out of her embrace, cruelly taking his body a couple of feet away from hers.
But a smile played at his lips. He held both of his well-muscled hands over his head in mock surrender. Moving with care, he dropped his right hand, extracted the handgun wrapped in a holster from the back of his pants, and placed it on the counter.
“I’m unarmed now.” He dropped his hands back to his sides. “I think it’s only fair you take something off in exchange.” His smile returned, and this time there were dimples. He looked like a normal guy, instead of the powerful, dangerous man he was.
Oh, wow. She smiled back. “You want me to take an article of clothing off my body in exchange for you disarming yourself?”
“Yes,” he said. He looked positively devilish.
“Anything?” She flicked the strap of her camisole.
“Oh yes.” He licked his lips.
“Okay,” she said. She tipped her head to the side, allowing her eyes to roam up and down his body. She took off her white gold hoop earrings and placed them on the counter next to his gun.
“There,” she said, “I believe we are even.”
He stepped forward, placed his hands on her hips, and backed her up until her butt was against the counter, her front inches away from him. “Are you toying with me, Sophia? Because I am already tortured.”
“Oh?” she whispered.
He moved even closer. She was trapped against the counter. Their bodies were only an inch apart. “You may not want to do that,” he said.
She lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper. “Oh, I think I do.”
He shoved her against the counter and collided his mouth with hers. His hands were wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her face to his.
She jumped on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. He ran his hands down the skin of her leg. “I like you like this,” he murmured, “wrapped around me.” His lips traveled down her neck and into the swell of her breasts above the silky fabric of her top. “Oh, Sophia. This silly little thing.”
He ripped the camisole in half, literally tearing it off of her body.
It was the sexiest thing ever.
She became frantic for him again and pulled his shirt over his head.
He pulled off her shorts and underwear with one skillful grab, and she was hungry against him. He yanked down his pants just far enough to expose his impressive manhood.
He used one arm to hold her up, the other massaging her breast. He gently rolled her nipples between his fingers.
Fuck. She was already wet.
“Now,” she whispered.
“Are you sure?” He paused, the tip of his cock near her entry, just out of her reach.
“Yes.”
He slammed into her roughly.
She took him all in, relishing his fullness inside her. “Yes!” she yelled.
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She tilted her hips up and rocked against him. He was rough, fucking her hard, pinning her painfully against her kitchen counter.
She opened herself up to him more, accepting the discomfort. It excited her. His face was on her, watching her enjoy herself. It was the most sensual thing a man had ever done.
She built up quickly and quivered around him, whimpering as she did. He followed soon after, shouting in Russian as he found his release.
He nuzzled her breasts. “Damn it, Sophia,” he said in English. “Damn it.”
She was slumped on the counter, leaned up against the fridge on her left side. Pleasure still radiated through her body, making her finger and toes tingle.
“What?” she said.
“I am touching madness.” He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers.
She slid off the counter. He took a tiny step back since his pants were still around his legs. His face was confused as he watched her.
She nuzzled against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. “It’s okay,” she said.
He folded his arms around her and clutched her tightly. Their embrace lingered for minutes.
Why does he need me to comfort him? It was intense and strange.
She tipped her head up so she could see his face. “Um...would you like some pizza?” she said.
His chest shook with laughter against her chin. “Please.”
She stepped away from him, pulling on her underwear and shorts while he pulled up his pants. She picked up the torn camisole. “You owe me a shirt.”
He zipped his pants and then returned his gaze to her. “I much prefer you do not wear a shirt. Ever again.” He fastened the button above his zipper.
“Nonetheless...” she said, smiling. She pressed the scraps of fabric from her camisole against her bare chest. “I’m going to grab some fresh clothes. Can you pull out some plates?”
He nodded.
She went down the hall and closed her bedroom door behind her, leaning on it for support.
After her thoughts slowed down enough for her to move, she threw the scraps of her ruined camisole in the trash and pulled out a tank top, fresh shorts, and a pair of underwear.
