Page 74 of Scarlet Thorns
“Managing household staff, overseeing deliveries, keeping everything running smoothly. Nothing you couldn’t handle.” He pauses, studying my face. “Interested?”
I should ask more questions. Should demand specifics about salary and duties and exactly what kind of “exclusive club” he’s creating. But all I can focus on is the way his presence fills the space between us, the sensual curve of his lips. It makes rational thought impossible.
My body wants him. Wants him with a desperation that’s both thrilling and terrifying. I’m so wet just from standing near him that I’m afraid he can smell my arousal, see the need written across my face.
He’s treating me with perfect respect, not pushing despite the obvious chemistry crackling between us. But I can feel how close we both are to losing control. How easily this professional conversation could turn into something else entirely.
“Yes.” The word escapes before I can stop it. “I accept, Mr. Sidorov.”
Something flickers in his expression. Relief? Satisfaction? But it’s gone in a moment and the careful mask slides back into place.
“Good. And call me Osip.” He doesn’t move away. Doesn’t break the spell weaving around us in this beautiful room that’s now mine.
The silence stretches, heavy with possibilities. He could kiss me right now. Could close those last few inches and claim my mouth with the same authority he used to fire Tibor. Part of me— the reckless part that’s been starving for real connection— wants him to.
Instead, he takes a deliberate step back. Yet again, he’s resisting the urge. And my God, I find that sexy as hell too.
“I’ll let you get settled,” he says, but his voice carries rougher undertones that suggest stepping away costs him something. “We will discuss details tomorrow.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Not trusting myself not to close the distance he just created and discover if his lips taste as dangerous as they look.
He reaches the doorway before turning back. “Ilona?”
“Yes?” I’m breathless again.
“Make yourself at home.”
The words resonate deep in my chest. Home. When was the last time anywhere felt like home?
“I will,” I say softly, swallowing a lump that’s suddenly formed in my throat. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he replies, looking at me strangely for a moment. Then something in his expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again and gives a curt nod before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
But as he disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone in this fairy tale room with its silk sheets and impossible luxury, one thought echoes through my mind:
This feels right.
I don’t know why, but accepting his offer makes me happier than I’ve been in months. The prospect of staying close to him, of living in his space and breathing his air, fills me with anticipation that should terrify me.
Instead, it feels like coming alive.
Like everything that’s happened— leaving Boston, wandering across Europe, enduring Tibor’s harassment— was leading to this moment. To him.
Which is insane. I barely know this man. But something about Osip Sidorov calls to parts of me I didn’t know existed, makes me feel recognized in ways that defy explanation.
Tomorrow we’ll establish professional boundaries.
Tomorrow, I’ll remember all the reasons why wanting your boss is a catastrophically bad idea.
But tonight, in this beautiful room he’s given me, I let myself imagine what might have happened if he hadn’t stepped away. If we’d given in to the pull between us and discovered just how electric our chemistry really is.
The fantasy leaves me aching and breathless, my body singing with needs I have no business feeling.
But I feel them anyway.
And God help me, I think he does too.
Chapter Thirty
