Page 12 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
The walls are all glass-clad polycarbonate; bulletproof and ensuring that every single person who enters this building beyond the first floor is observed.
My eyes scan the TVs quickly. It takes me a moment to find, but there she is—Audrey Wolfe, entering the building at 8 a.m. on the dot.
I smirk.
It’s easier to track her now that I have my bearings. She scans in, walks through the two security checkpoints, greets someone, continues to the escalator. It will bring her to this floor, where she’ll walk right by this office.
And she does.
I turn the chair and watch.
She’s wearing kitten heels today, either worried about tripping again or dealing with a sore ankle.
Lev has turned half-away to make himself less obvious. He glances at me, and I know he notices, too, the difference in her appearance.
Her dark hair looks frizzy instead of sleek and perfectly styled. No form fitting skirt, no stockings, no deliciously tempting neckline; she’s wearing a dress that flares out at the hips and almost reaches her ankles.
This is the first sign that I might be in trouble: if I only wanted her for her looks, I’d be bothered. But there’s something about the outfit, the way it hides her curves and bare skin, that makes me want to explore her even more.
She marches past the Command Center and disappears to the elevators.
“Come,” I say quietly, standing and leading the way out of the room. As Lev steps out behind me, the regular security staff file back in efficiently. I wait thirty feet from the elevators, but Audrey never looks up once she’s inside one. She stares at the ground.
I can’t help smirking. It’s easy to see she’s nervous, disheveled, most likely by yesterday’s events…
And the dirty text she sent me last night.
The doors close and I gesture for Lev to follow. We take the stairs, quickly, easily. He might be almost twenty years younger than me, but I’m not a fool; in my line of work, it’s important to stay in shape.
To kill time, I stop on the eight floor and check in with my suppliers. It’s a rare visit, and they’re nervous, suspecting that something is wrong. The pretty little secretary out front flutters her fake lashes at me. I barely give her a second glance.
Minutes later, figuring Audrey is most likely settled in the office, Lev and I take the elevator. When the doors open the four employees inside scatter quickly and quietly. Stepping inside, I focus on the numbers lighting up slowly.
Just the thought of seeing her today has me worked up. It takes a moment to control my breath, to relax my muscles.
I want to hunt her like the prey animal she is.
We reach the final floor of the Obsidian Spire, where the three most important divisions are: accounting, international affairs, and leadership.
And of course, my office.
“Good morning, Mr. Martynov,” the accounting girls demure?—
All but Audrey.
She’s rummaging in her desk, computer screen black, a flush on her cheeks.
My smirk widens.
Striding down the hall and to my office, I wait until the door is closed before hitting the button that frosts an internal layer of glass.
Another flicked switch brings up a small screen that looks out onto the three divisions. Quickly, I navigate to the scene I want to see: Audrey, still fumbling, caught off guard by one of the other women asking her a question.
Lev’s thumb roams effortlessly across his phone’s surface, and a deep, masculine, generated voice speaks: “Is there a problem I can take care of for you?”
“No.”
Lev takes a step back.