Page 18 of Konstantin

“You’re so small,” I mostly say to myself.

She scoffs. “No, I’m average. You’re just a big guy. You’d probably break me.”

A faint blush creeps up her face, like she didn’t mean to say that out loud. My chuckle comes easily. With my other hand, I drag my knuckles down her soft cheek, and when her eyes meet mine, awareness overtakes me.

“Breaking you is something I’ve thought about on repeat since the moment I met you.”

She sucks in a sharp breath, her nipples pebbling beneath that tiny red dress I want to rip into shreds and use to tie her to my bed.

There’s so much I want to do to her. But if I let her work here and she touches anyone else, I’ll get a little trigger-happy. That wouldn’t be good for business.

Maybe I need a real test. To really see how much I can handle.

There’s a knock on my door, and I already know from the sound that it’s my personal assistant.

“Come in.”

Tanya steps inside, holding a package. Her eyes flick to Tessa and widen slightly, her face flushing. “This just came for you, sir.”

“Thanks.”

She nods, sneaking another glance at me. Probably still hoping I’ll see her as more than the help. That won’t happen.

When the door clicks shut, Tessa lets out a dry laugh. “You fucked her.”

Smirking, I hold her gaze. “Didn’t realize I needed your approval over who I can fuck.”

“You don’t. But it seems to be part of your MO. Fucking your employees.”

“You think you know me, don’t you?”

“I do.” She arches a brow, her tits practically begging for my hands.

“You’d be wrong, Ms. Monroe. I’ve never slept with her, and as far as you, we definitely haven’t fucked. I’d remember that, believe me, and so would you.” I slide my finger up the inside of her thigh, and goose bumps rise in my wake, like her body already knows who it belongs to. “That can change, though. Just say the word.”

“I have no desire to fuck you. I just want a job.” But there’s something in her tone that makes me believe she’s just lying to herself.

Whatever this is between us, she feels it too. She just prefers denial.

My touch glides up to where she’s warm, wet, and tastes like heaven. But she won’t give in easily. No, she wants to be chased. To fight it. Giving in would mean she’s lost. I get it.

Good thing I’m an expert at games.

I pull out my phone and fire off a text, then slip it back into my pocket. If I can handle this, she can have the job. If not, we’ll have to figure something else out, because one thing is certain: this woman is going to be a permanent fixture in my life, however I decide to have her.

“Do you have a boyfriend? Husband?”

Because they’re already dead.

She tosses out a dry laugh. “If I did, why would I be here?”

I grin. “You’d be surprised at what kind of people work at my club.”

She brushes a loose strand of hair from her face, and I have every urge to do it for her. Any excuse to touch her again.

My palm returns to her thigh as our eyes collide. The fire flickering between us flares brighter, and if I’m not careful, she’ll be the one to burn me alive.

A sharp knock at the door has her turning toward the sound.