Page 5

5

ROMAN

F ollowing a much needed and exceedingly satisfying session in the boxing ring with Dimitry, I head back to my penthouse. It’s been strangely quiet the past two days, which has, to my surprise, felt a bit odd. As much as I’ve done everything humanly possible to resist having Mikhail’s three children thrust into my life, during the five months they’ve been living here permanently, I’ve become strangely accustomed to hearing their chatter drift up from the floor below.

I don’t allow them into my penthouse, of course. And beyond taking down delivery cartons on the nights the chef is off, I rarely visit their apartment on the floor below.

No matter the instructions in Mikhail’s will, bequeathing care of his children to me, their godfather, this situation is definitely temporary. I’m not cut out for parenthood any more than I am for relationships. Besides, children need a mother. And just as soon as Mikhail’s nightmare of an ex-wife finishes her modeling contract in the USA, I’ll be forcibly impressing that fact on her.

I push away the unwelcome knowledge that Inger is hardly perfect mother material. She’s going to have to change. Or at least find enough nannies to do her job for her. I can’t raise three children, particularly when one of them is a very angry fifteen-year-old girl who hates my guts.

What the fuck do I know about teenage girls? Or five-year-old ones, for that matter, like the youngest. Let alone thirteen-year-old Mickey, who doesn’t play sports and has more in common with my tech geeks than the bratva he was born into.

I could kill that damn nanny.

How am I supposed to find a replacement by tomorrow? Bitter experience has taught me not to try using my assistants in the interim.

I throw my bag down in the corridor, trying not to think about Lucia Lopez standing right here, only days ago. Part of the reason I lost it so badly that day was because for once, I was expecting the children for a late meal before driving them to the airport for their flight to London, where they’re currently staying with Yuri’s wife, Vera, their paternal grandmother.

Thank God the kids weren’t in the apartment when Lucia turned up. The thought of Ofelia’s sharp teenage eyes watching me with Lucia Lopez doesn’t appeal at all.

Which brings me neatly back to the other problem I’m currently facing: Miss Lopez’s undelivered tip.

Oh, sure. It’s the tip that’s bothering you.

I shower and sit down at the wide dining table with my laptop. I have cameras in my office, of course. I’m the only person with access to them.

For the past three days, I’ve been resisting the urge to watch the footage they captured that morning in my office.

I know I should delete it. I know it’s beyond wrong to possess it, let alone even think about watching it. Probably illegal, too, not that I could give a shit about the law.

I hit play anyway.

I get hard the minute I watch Miss Lopez sashay into my office. She pauses, staring at my back, and her nipples suddenly become visible outlines under her shirt.

Christ. This was a bad idea.

And there’s no way in hell I’m turning it off.

I put my hands behind my head to resist the urge to jack off. I might allow myself to watch the damn thing, but I’m not going full creep.

The view of her luscious ass bending over my desk is even better from the overhead camera than it was from behind, since I can also watch her gorgeous tits nearly fall right out of her top on their own and her nipples swell as I make the comment about her slipping.

That word wasn’t an accident.

After months of imagining Lucia bent over my desk, the reality made me even harder than I am right now. Clearly, going by the suddenly glazed look in her eyes and the way she’s scraping that delicious lower lip, I’m not the only one who’s been imagining that particular scenario.

She turns around. I watch my furious reaction to her disheveled appearance and feel a not-insignificant amount of self contempt.

I called her a whore in every way but the actual word. Which, given my own ability to fuck around, is some level of hypocrisy.

Subtle, asshole. Real subtle.

Then I watch her rip straight back into me, with a ridiculous lack of fear for someone who knows exactly what level of savagery I’m capable of. Eyes flashing, chest heaving—even tearing me apart, she’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

By the time she gets to the line about twisted punishment, tying her to my bed is all I can think about.

It doesn’t get any easier after that.

Every moan. Every hitched breath. The way her eyes flutter closed and her head goes back on my shoulder, like she can’t even hold herself up anymore. That delicious peach of an ass pushing back against my dick. The way her breasts thrust toward my hands, even before I’ve released them from that joke of a T-shirt.

God, I thought my imagination might have exaggerated just how perfect her tits are, but the truth is even my wildest fantasies didn’t come close to doing them justice. I’d give Hale’s entire yearly income to get my mouth around the two swollen scarlet buds thrusting up from the ripe flesh beneath.

And that pussy . . .

When I slipped my finger inside her, she was so wet I could have come just from touching her.

Watching her orgasm a second time tests my self-control to the limit.

By the time I’ve watched her scream and buck under my hand, shaking with the intensity of her orgasm, I’m painfully fucking hard.

I know there’s no chance in hell of me walking away from Miss Lucia Lopez, or at least, not until I’ve fucked every last one of those delicious moans out of her.

I pause the screen on the frame of her at the moment of orgasm, her fingers clutching the swollen orbs on her chest, the bee-stung lips wet and open against my palm, her ass thrust back against both my shaft and my fingers, and walk over to the plate glass windows.

It’s going to take an ice bath to get my cock down.

Meanwhile, I have an idea.

Potentially an extremely dangerous one, but then, I’ve never been one to walk away from danger.

And it does fall under the category of mutually beneficial.

I call my lawyer, explain the contract I want drawn up, and tell him I’ll take care of the background check. Pavel is the most discreet and loyal of my employees; I’ll give the job to him. I don’t like the idea of outsiders knowing things about Miss Lopez until I do.

Then I find Lucia’s number on my phone and start punching out a message.

My office, ten am tomorrow. If you miss our appointment, my offer will be taken permanently off the table.

I did warn her that my methods of punishment were twisted.

Lucia Lopez is about to find out just how true that is.