Page 23

Valeria

H e was right. My fucking stalker was absolutely right when he said I would only be thinking about him. Annoyance itched in every inch of my body from this development. My determined spirit was prepared to fight with my mind till the end, but it seemed pointless.

The thoughts about our two encounters crept into my subconscious, keeping me from rationalizing his behavior. I couldn't say he forced himself on me. He gave me a chance to say no, but I didn't use it and didn't know why. It was so fucked up.

I shivered when I remembered his touches. My pussy clenched happily when the memory of his mouth satisfying me crossed my mind. And then I had this silly idea about a date.

Nothing and no one in this world could explain what had gotten into me to suggest a date with my stalker. How ridiculous was it? I willingly recommended a meeting, allowing him to fool me again or sweep me off my feet with his mysteriousness, demanding voice, and undivided attention.

Was I really that pathetic?

Groaning in pure irritation over my pitiful self, I checked my phone, finding nothing from him.

He kept his word about leaving me alone for tonight, but I couldn't say if I was happy he obliged or sad he didn't break his promise.

He created magnificent chaos in my head, and I didn't even know why or how this happened .

He wasn't anything special. He was a psychopath interested in me who could never have a normal relationship. Then why was I fantasizing about us going out like a regular couple? He tied me to a chair on our first meeting!

The beeping of my phone made me almost jump out of my skin. Hastily, I grabbed the device, and disappointment filled my chest instantly because the name on my screen was an spam number.

With my trembling fingers, I scanned the conversation with my stalker, realizing it had only been a few hours since we exchanged the last message.

Persuading my head that it would be a better idea to think about something else, I went to the bedroom to pick an outfit for tonight. Tasha said that the manager in the casino didn't wear a uniform and that I was expected to look presentable.

I shuffled through my dresses, finding a black office dress with a white collar and golden buttons. It sculpted my curves perfectly and ended above my knees, covering my tiny panda tattoo. I always tried to keep it under my clothes because questions about it made me edgy.

Huffing out a breath, I prepared the stockings and high heels, satisfied with my pick. I desperately wanted to make a great impression and prove to Zyon he made the right choice. It was an excellent opportunity for me, and I was ready to squeeze everything out of it.

Taking a long, hot shower, I did my best to wash away the remains of my stalker from my body, but it didn't help.

I smelled his cologne everywhere. The mix of mint, lemon, and probably green apple was stuck in my nose.

It was complemented with cedar and oak moss, and I knew exactly which brand it was. Versace.

I was a sucker for their products. Their fragrances for men were even better than for women. And I was one hundred percent sure that Zyon Zhumagulov used the same brand.

The realization struck me like lightning, forcing me to look harder for similarities.

There were some, but it didn't prove anything.

Any man could use that cologne, be taller than six feet, and have a deep voice.

The color of the eyes could be changed easily, and some people knew how to speak differently.

I needed something bulletproof. It would be a tremendous coincidence if my stalker had the same tattoo on the same place as Zyon.

But how did I get under that oversized hoodie that covered everything?

Plans and schemes circled my mind like a tornado while I prepared for work.

They didn't leave on my way to the hidden back entrance in the old construction or when Tasha escorted me to the locker room.

She was sweet, showing and explaining everything necessary and even gossiping a little, but I couldn't concentrate.

All I was focused on was comparing two tall, dark men who invaded my life and secretly hoping they were the same person.

My heart missed a beat every time I imagined Zyon giving me the best oral sex of my life. Just the mere thought of him being obsessed with me on this insane level sent my hormones to a frenzy. I had to know if it was him hidden behind the mask. No matter the cost, I would get to the bottom of this.

"Evening, ladies."

Zyon's profound voice jolted me from my reverie, and I stared blankly at the computer screen in the back room behind the cash desk. I wasn't sure what Tasha was trying to show me because I was elsewhere, dreaming about the dark eyes of my new boss.

"G-good evening," I stammered, turning to him, but a deep sadness enveloped me. His voice was too different than my stalker's. However, my heart reacted in its own way, almost jumping out of my chest right into his arms.

Oh, those arms! Zyon wore a fitted black button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his inked skin and veiny forearms. The fabric was pressed to maximum on his biceps and shoulders, and a few buttons were opened on his chest, showing the head and part of the body of the wingy monster tattooed on his neck.

The black vest with shiny embroidered leaves gave his dark outfit a spark and perfectly matched his silver watch, ring with a massive cross on his thumb, and leather and silver bracelets on his wrist.

He looked like walking sin with his new undercut hairstyle, a wave of the darkest hair I ever saw combed back, and the amused glint in his black eyes when he noticed me shamelessly ogle him.

But I just couldn't help myself when he stood before me as the king of the world, domineering and flawless, gluing everyone's attention to him. He was the devil's masterpiece. Or maybe the devil himself .

"Will you two hard-working little bees join me for a late dinner?" Zyon inquired, disturbing my musing about his great looks. I averted my gaze from his handsome face.

"Actually," Tasha beeped, turning the chair toward him. “I wanted to ask you if I could leave before midnight. Richard has surgery tomorrow, and I want to see him before they put him under anesthesia."

"Of course," he replied instantly, taking a step closer. "You didn't need to come tonight either. I would've shown Valeria around."

"Oh, no." She waved her hand, smiling. She was clearly relieved he allowed her to go. "I would've lost my mind alone at home."

"Okay, Jamal will drive you," Zyon said, casting her a soft smile, but she shook her head firmly, making him frown.

"Jamal won't leave your side, Mr. Zee," Tasha pointed out, standing up. "And I’m fine to drive."

"If I say he will take you home, then he will take you home," Zyon rumbled, forcing the tiny hair on my neck to stand up.

His face was a hard mask without emotion, starkly contrasting his previous almost happy demeanor.

I noticed Tasha tense next to me, and her hand froze on the handle of her purse.

"And the same goes for you. You're eight months pregnant. The only thing you’ll drive is your husband's mind crazy after he wakes up. "

"Yes, sir." Tasha nodded, staring at him warily.

Zyon opened the door for her and called Jamal, a frowning, tall, athletic male with a curly afro and skin the color of dark chocolate.

His scowl only deepened with every word his boss said, yet he didn't dare oppose him.

He left with Tasha soon after he received his commands, leaving me alone with Zyon's overwhelming presence filling the small room.

"What about you, Mrs. Kellerman?" He hid his hands in his pants pockets, watching me as if he intended to have me for dinner. My stomach quivered with the harsh attack of crazy butterflies that his look caused. "Will you accompany me?"

"You want me to leave the casino unsupervised?" I asked, half-sitting on the desk because my feet hurt from high heels. It wasn't the best choice for running between floors .

"If the destiny of this building is to collapse while I eat, then your presence, no matter how charming and enlightening, won't stop it from happening."

My cheeks blushed at the compliment, and my lips curled in a slight smile.

"Well, if that's your attitude about the matter, then I can't refuse a free meal offer," I replied, and he flashed me a toothy grin, motioning for me to follow him.

We walked side by side through the room with slot machines, and he led us around the VIP lounge. The five-star restaurant was on the ground floor and also served as the entrance for casino customers.

I wondered if the underground casino had a license or was illegal, but then I decided not to stick my nose in it. Tasha told me that if someone asked for permits, I should call Zyon or his brothers.

However, I doubted that day would ever come.

According to different internet sources, Zyon's connections to influential people granted him the freedom to do whatever he wanted.

I couldn't imagine an inspector would come to see if he had an alcohol license.

It would probably be the end of their entire office.

"Zyon! It's so nice to meet you!" An older man with a big belly and curious green eyes hidden behind glasses stretched his arm for a shake. Zyon took it, slamming his shoulder hard.

"Goerge, what a nice surprise! What brings you here?" Ignoring the question, George's eyes drifted to me, and Zyon quickly took the hint.

"Please, allow me to introduce Mrs. Valeria Kellerman, the new manager," he announced, placing a hand on the small of my back. The gesture felt somehow protective, making blood rush to my cheeks.