Page 38 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

I step into the doorway behind her and listen.

“… I’m managing fine on my own,” she is saying. “It will take me a couple extra days to get through everything, but the owner is… well, he’s very involved. It will all be fine.”

“That’s perfect,” a male voice says. “That’s why I hired you, you know? You looked… flexible.”

I frown. The man’s sleezy tone of voice alone is reason enough to file a sexual harassment claim. Who is this asshole?

“Thanks,” Belle says softly.

“You’re welcome,” he says as if he did her a favor. “I am sorry you’re stuck there by yourself, though. I wish you could have come to Aruba, too. You deserve the break. A skimpy little bikini and a mai tai would do you some good.”

“I’m not much for tropical vacations,” Belle says.

“What a shame. You’d look great on a beach.” Suddenly, the man laughs. “Weirdly enough, I accidentally stumbled on a topless beach today. Quite the surprise. You should have been there.”

“Mhmm.” Belle is sketching something in an open notebook, barely paying attention to the phone call.

“It’s upscale, too,” he continues. “They only let in the best. Beautiful bodies everywhere. You’d fit right—”

“Hey, Roger?” Belle says suddenly. “I actually have to get going. I’m working late tonight and I have a lot to get through.”

“Yeah, sure. But while you’re working, just imagine you’re on the beach with me. That will make the time pass faster.”

Belle says a rushed goodbye and hangs up the phone.

“Not gonna happen, you nasty creep,” she mutters once the line disconnects.

I step into the conference room. “No office romance for you two, then?”

Belle nearly falls out of her chair in her hurry to spin around and see who is behind her. She clutches at her chest, and I can’t say I completely blame her boss for imagining her on a topless beach. I’m doing the same damn thing.

“Holy—Jeez. You scared me.”

“You were pretty wrapped up in your phone call. He a friend of yours?”

Maybe I’ll kidnap him, too. I could get Arslan to Aruba on the next flight out. Anyone who talks to their female employees like that deserves Arslan’s knuckles tattooed across their fucking face.

And anyone who talks to Belle like that deserves far, far worse.

She looks back over her shoulder, her auburn waves catching the fluorescents. “That was Roger.”

“Your boss.”

“The one and only.” She sighs. “He was checking in on how things are going.”

“By telling you about the topless beaches he went to?”

She shrugs. “That’s just Roger.”

I walk around the table. Belle doesn’t look at me, but I can tell she’s watching. “You should have told him to fuck himself.”

“He’d probably take that as an invitation to beat off on the phone.”

I snort, surprised by her quick response.

Belle looks surprised, too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologize.”

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