Page 17 of Konstantin
“You’re a bold thing, aren’t you?” He picks up a piece of my loose hair, inspecting it in his large, dominating hand.
The thought of those hands all over my body invades my mind, like he’s haunting me even while standing here. But I don’t move. Don’t let him see how affected I’ve become.
“If you want someone who’s going to beg, you should look elsewhere.”
He tugs my chin up, those eyes piercing into my very soul. He doesn’t say anything for long, aching seconds, time bleeding until he finally does.
“I think you’re the kind of woman who enjoys being forced tobeg.”
My core instantly tightens, my body growing warm and prickly. He chuckles like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
The men I’ve slept with were boring, and there haven’t been many. At twenty-six, my experience is pitiful. Way less than his, that’s for sure.
He watches me for a long moment, like he’s deciding how much fun he wants to have with this. Then he jerks his head toward the door.
“Come inside. We’ll see if you’re worth my time.”
Bastard.
I step in as he holds the door for me, my heels clicking against the polished floor. I’m wearing another short dress, knowing how much he liked the last one.
The bar is mostly empty, just a few staff cleaning up before the evening rush. Konstantin doesn’t stop there. He leads me straight to his large office, shutting the door behind us with a quiet click. Every inch of the room screams wealth and power: the black wood desk in the center, the plush sofas arranged like they belong in a penthouse suite, the bold artwork lining the walls. Everything here is curated and intentional. Like the man himself.
“Drink?” he offers, slipping off his coat and draping it over the chair at his desk before striding to the bar in the corner and reaching for a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid gleaming under the low light.
I shake my head. “I don’t drink.”
Konstantin pauses, glass in hand, then tilts his head. “Why not?”
For a moment, I consider brushing off the question. But something about the way he’s looking at me—curious, patient, like he actually wants the answer—makes me tell the truth.
“My mom was an addict. I don’t want to be one.”
A flicker of something crosses his face. Interest. Maybe even a hint of approval.
“You think one drink would do it?”
“I won’t take the risk.”
His brow arches slightly, his gaze remaining on me like he’s peeling back layers, trying to see what’s underneath. I hate how the attention makes my skin heat and my stomach tighten.
This attraction…it means nothing. Even if I end up in his bed, it won’t mean a damn thing. It’s just sex. And everyone needs that.
Konstantin smirks again, swirling the whiskey in his glass before bringing it to his lips. “Let’s see ifyou’reworth the risk.”
He’s talking about the job. But it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it.
CHAPTER SIX
KONSTANTIN
The more I see her,the more I want her.
And that continues to be a problem.
She lowers herself onto the sofa beside me, keeping a safe distance. I almost laugh. She thinks she’ll take off her clothes and fuck strangers every weekend, but she’s afraid to sit next to me?
I slide closer, my leg brushing hers. When my fingers trace along her thigh, she inhales sharply, a subtle tremor rippling through her. Amused, I watch my hand nearly swallow her whole.
