Page 22 of Beautiful Secrets

She frowns, her sandy-colored eyebrows drawing together. “I do not care. I need to—” Her pink lips purse as she reconsiders what she’d been going to say. “Car keys. Now.”

“Whoever taught you to shoot missed out on a crucial bit of your education.”

Her frown deepens. “I do not want to shoot you, but I will if I must.”

God, I love her accent and how she mangles up her sentences when she’s flustered.

“I don’t doubt it,” I tell her, and it’s not even a lie. I saw the desperation in her eyes. There’s a reason she’s running, and it’s got nothing to do with finding out her daddy was Santa Claus all along.

She wants out.

Which is ironic, because I want backin.

“So what is it?” she says, shrugging a little. Her accent gets stronger. “What did he miss?”

Is she talking about her father? Somehow I doubt it. I don’t see Dimitri giving his daughter marksman training. The way he barely acknowledged his kids earlier tonight makes me think that they’re not as high up on his list as his new son-in-law.

I reach into my pocket. Mika’s eyes dart to my hand, then back to my face. Her grip tightens a little, her finger curling around the trigger.

Christ, she isn’t fucking around. I’m almost proud of her. The little rabbit that could…shoot a guy’s head off.

For some reason, just the thought that she’s capable of ending me makes me want to push her even further. I know she’s not sadistic like me—not a fucking chance—but how hard would she fight back?

My cock stiffens.

I’m guessing tooth and nail.

“Always check the clip,” I say.

She blinks at me. Then her lips push out into an indignant pout. She drops the muzzle of the gun, aiming for my thigh.

And pulls the motherfucking trigger.

Click.

Her eyes dart up, wide and blue. Again.

Click.

Her jaw bunches. She twists the gun, clips out the magazine, and stares dumbfounded at the empty chambers.

I draw a bullet out of my pocket, and then grab the hem of my suit and give it a shake. More bullets rattle around inside. I cock my eyebrow at her. “Now how about those cookies?”

Instead of accepting my offer, Mika snarls at me and throws the gun at my head. I’m so surprised, I almost don’t duck in time.

She races for the elevator.

Like a wolf that’s just spotted a hare, I give chase without a thought. I catch up to her beside a bone-white chaise lounge pushed against the wall next to the elevator. I have no clue what its purpose is—but I use it as something soft for Mika to land on when I grab her around the waist and toss her down.

She’s already scrambling up as she bounces, but I hit her with my full weight before she can escape. Her curvy little body squirms and writhes urgently under me, getting my cock hard enough to want to tear through my fucking trousers.

I blame the fact that I’ve been celibate for the past five years. Not that I have anything against screwing crazies like myself, but honestly, I’d had more important things on my mind. You figure out a lot of shit about yourself when you have nothing but your own thoughts for company.

Mika screams.

I chuckle.

She stops, aghast, blazing eyes the color of a winter sky.