Page 8

The clink of silverware against fine China fills the dining room as Quinn and I sit across from each other, a spread of breakfast pastries and eggs between us.

She daintily wipes her mouth with a linen napkin before setting it beside her plate.

“I want to call my parents. Let them know I'm okay.” Her green eyes meet mine, flashing with defiance.

I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “I'll let you do that, as soon as you agree to hear my plan.”

“Never.” She stands abruptly, the legs of her chair screeching against the hardwood floor as she stalks out of the room. I chuckle under my breath. She's a stubborn little thing.

***

Later, I find her in the library, curled up with a book in the chaise lounge by the window, the morning light illuminating golden streaks in her hair. She has her legs stretched out before her, wearing those short shorts that shouldn’t be allowed.

For a brief moment, my eyes linger on her long legs before I look away and clear my throat, drawing her attention.

I clear my throat, drawing her attention. Quinn looks up from her book, annoyance flickering in her gaze. I take a step forward, my hands in my pockets as I give her a pointed look.

“What?” she says, sitting up in the chair.

“Your phone's been ringing,” I say casually, dangling her phone in front of her. “I believe it’s your office calling. You can have it back if you'll just hear me out about my plan.”

She jumps off the chair, hurrying towards me. Did she really have to wear a god-damn crop top? As if those shorts weren’t bad enough. Blood rushes to my head as she comes within an inch of me, reaching for the phone.

I hold it above my head, and she stands on her toes, arms stretched out above her, her shirt riding up. It takes every ounce of courage in me to resist faltering, to avoid getting lost in her. It’s difficult to focus on why I’m here when it’s so easy to forget myself around her.

She stands on her tiptoes, her fingers brushing against my wrist. Her gaze locks with mine, a silent challenge igniting in those defiant emerald eyes. In that moment, all I can see and feel is her, so close yet frustratingly out of reach.

The tension crackles in the air between us, thick and palpable. I sigh heavily. This woman will be the death of me.

“You can have it,” my voice comes out hoarse. “If you agree to listen to my plan.”

“Then I guess I’d rather not have it,” she says with fire in her voice before she steps back and walks out of the room, as though I’m not even worth the dirt beneath her shoes.

***

That afternoon, I'm in my study when Quinn bursts through the door, face flushed, eyes wild.

“My clients will be wondering where I am! I have meetings and appointments to keep. You can't just keep me locked up here!” She paces the room like a caged tigress.

“Ah, so you’ve been thinking of my proposal.”

“I’ve been thinking of what a dick you are,” she snarls back.

I lean against the edge of my desk, watching her, amused and aroused by her fiery display. “You’re willing to risk your business over your pride, Quinn?” I raise an eyebrow. “Are you being serious right now? All I need is your ear to just listen to what I have to say.”

She turns to face me, her strawberry-blonde hair flying. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. “If I listen to what you’re saying, I’m just enabling your crazy plans.

You kidnapped me, for the love of God.

I doubt anything else you say would be sane!

”

“Then let your clients wait,” I snap back at her.

With an inarticulate sound of rage, she spins on her heel and storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Living in close quarters with Quinn is turning into a unique kind of exquisite torture.

We're always at each other's throats, bickering and throwing barbs.

She matches me quip for quip, never backing down.

It's infuriating. Yet, oddly sexy as hell.

I often catch myself watching her when she's not looking.

The sway of her hips as she walks, the crease between her brows when she's lost in thought, and the way she bites her bottom lip while reading all captivate me. I want to soothe that lip with my tongue.

Keeping my hands off her is a herculean effort. But I'm nothing if not disciplined.

No matter how much the curve of her ass and the fire in her eyes test my famous control.

..

***

I drum my fingers on the mahogany desk, pondering my next move.

Quinn's stubbornness proves to be a formidable obstacle. But I didn't get to where I am by giving up easily.

If she won't listen to reason, maybe it's time to fight a little dirty.

An idea sparks. I grab my phone and call Dmitri.

“I need you to learn everything you can about Quinn's business. Specifically, any high-profile clients she has been trying to land.”

Dmitri's reply is prompt. “Will do, Boss.

I'll have the info to you within the hour.”

True to his word, an email from Dmitri dings my inbox 45 minutes later. I scan the content, a slow grin spreading across my face. Well, well, well. There’s someone I recognize on this list. It seems Miss Quinn Desmond has been trying to snag a certain billionaire bachelor as a client: Viktor Petrov. An old family friend who runs a successful vodka brand... and to the public, a notorious playboy. But as an old friend, I know he’s been looking to settle down.

I hit speed dial. “Viktor, how’s it going? Listen up. I’ve been thinking about your situation and might have a proposition for you. ”

An hour later, I'm standing outside Quinn's bedroom door. I raise my fist and knock. “Quinn. We need to talk.”

The door flies open, revealing Quinn in a tank top and yoga pants, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. My gaze drifts over her curves before snapping back to her face. “What do you want?” she asks, her voice laced with irritation.

“We're having a guest for dinner. I expect you to be ready and downstairs in an hour.”

Her eyes narrow. “No thanks.”

I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Suit yourself. I just thought you might want to meet Viktor Petrov. You know, the billionaire?” I pause, letting that sink in. “He's an old friend looking to settle down with a good wife. Something about how his inheritance from his mother’s side won’t come through until he has an heir. I'm sure I could put in a good word for you... if you play nice.”

Quinn's mouth drops open. I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she weighs her options. Finally, she huffs out a breath. “Fine. I'll be ready in an hour.

”

“Excellent. Wear something... appealing.” I let my gaze drift over her again, teasing her to see that spark I so love.

A pretty flush stains her cheeks.

“Get out,” she hisses, shoving at my chest.

I chuckle as she slams the door in my face.

Quinn Desmond, in a sexy dress, forced to play nice.

Tonight is shaping up to be quite entertaining indeed.

***

I watch as Quinn charms Viktor over dinner, her green eyes sparkling as she laughs at his jokes.

She's a natural at this, effortlessly steering the conversation to her business and the elite clientele she serves. Viktor hangs on her every word, clearly captivated.

And damn if she doesn't look stunning in that red dress, the silky fabric clinging to her curves.

I want to run my hands over her smooth skin, to taste her lips and claim her as my own.

“Well, Ms. Desmond,” Viktor says, interrupting my inappropriate thoughts, “You’re quite certain you’d be able to help me find the right woman?”

“Of course, Mr. Petrov,” Quinn exclaims enthusiastically.

“I recently arranged a marriage between a Thai prince and a princess from Bhutan. We have a very elite circle of prospects, and, in fact, some of my clients are paired by their parents who share the same concerns you do! No one wants a partner who will exploit their status and wealth. I can find you an equal, a partner in every sense.”

Viktor laughs.

“I think I read about the Thai prince's wedding in one of those tabloids. If that’s the case, you've convinced me. I'd be glad to sign on as a client.”

Quinn beams at him. “Wonderful! I'll have my office send over the contract tomorrow.”

As Viktor takes his leave, Quinn turns to me, triumph written all over her face. “I got him.”

“I noticed,” I reply dryly. “Well done.”

She raises a brow. “Admit it, you're impressed.”

I shrug. “Moderately. But Viktor was an easy mark. The question is, how exactly do you plan to send over the contract when I have your phone?”

Her smile fades. “Is that all this is to you? A chance to have it your way?”

“Not at all,” I say fiercely. “This is a chance for you to hear my plan because, from where I stand, Quinn, you don’t grasp the one simple fact: Charlie Letvin isn’t someone you can handle on your own. Besides, you might find that I’m not just doing this to protect you; I might have something to gain from this situation as well.”

We stare at each other for a charged moment. The air between us practically crackles with tension.

“Tell me,” she demands.

“Are you ready to hear my proposal now?” I ask, checking if she is finally willing to comply. “I did just help you land a very lucrative client, after all, and it would be a shame not to see it materialize.”

Quinn sighs. “I suppose it's only fair. Let's hear it then.”

I smile slowly. “Oh, you're going to love this, sweetheart. Trust me.”

I gesture for her to take a seat on the plush leather couch. She perches on the edge, arms crossed, watching me warily as I pour us both a drink from the bar cart.

“Here's my proposal,” I begin, handing her a glass of scotch. She takes it but doesn't sip. “I will personally connect you with high-value clients, both from my organization and outside of it, from fields like business, politics, and more. Powerful men who will pay top dollar for your services.”

Her eyes narrow. “And in return? What was it you had to gain from it?”

I give her a mischievous grin. “In exchange, you’ll act as my fiancée in public. Join me at events, smile for the cameras, and make it seem like we're madly in love. This will not only keep Charlie off your back and protect you from him, but it’ll also make me look good in his eyes. I need to maintain a certain image, you see. Especially around men like Charlie Letvin.”

“Your rival,” she states. I incline my head in confirmation.

“Precisely. With a beautiful, successful woman like you on my arm, it will show him his place. Charlie won't be able to touch me, nor you . It’ll hit him where it hurts, bruise his pride, make him weak. What Charlie Letvin hates most is not getting what he wants.”

“Me,” she states, simply.

“Precisely.”

Quinn takes a long sip of her drink, considering. “So you’re asking me to pretend to be your arm candy, a prisoner of sorts.”

I chuckle. “Hardly a prisoner. You'll have the freedom to conduct your business, to come and go as you please. Within reason, of course. You'll have a bodyguard with you at all times for your safety.”

“A bodyguard?” She frowns.

“Just until Charlie buys our act. Then, in time, he’s bound to find someone else to dally with and forget all about you. Until then, you are to live with me.”

“You’re joking!” she protests. “I’m to reside here?”

“Naturally. We must keep up appearances, and besides, it’s safer this way.” I drain my glass and set it aside. “Do we have a deal?”

Quinn stands, slowly approaching me. The sway of her hips is hypnotic. She stops mere inches from me, close enough that I can smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body.

“Once we’re back in here, the act dies out. This is only a business arrangement, you understand?” she says, looking up at me through her lashes.

I nod.

“Yes,” she says breathily. “We have a deal.”

I let my gaze wander over her, enjoying the view of her, this captivating creature who has fascinated me so completely.

“Excellent. I look forward to this partnership, Miss Desmond.”

Her smile is razor-sharp. “As do I, Mr. Zolotov. As do I.”

Something tells me that our little arrangement is going to be far more interesting than either of us anticipated. Quinn is no blushing flower. She's a wildfire, and I have every intention of letting her consume me.