Page 12

12

TASH

I wake with a start, my back protesting from the awkward position in my leather office chair. Soft morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across my desk. I’m alone.

My hand brushes against a cashmere throw that wasn’t there before—one that carries his scent. Dmitri must have covered me before he left. The thought brings a rush of memories from last night...

His hands gripped my hips and held me against the mahogany desk. His arctic blue eyes darkened with each kiss. He whispered Russian endearments against my skin. The strength of his arms held me close after, both of us catching our breath.

“Stay,” he’d murmured, pulling me onto the leather couch in the corner. His usual perfect composure had cracked, revealing something underneath. For once, the mask slipped.

I stretch, and my muscles are pleasantly sore. Papers from last night’s acquisition proposal are scattered across the floor—we’d knocked them off the desk in our haste. My cheeks heat at the memory.

The clock on my desk reads six forty-seven a.m. Early enough that no one else will be in yet. I gather the fallen papers, straighten my skirt, and check my reflection in the window. My lipstick is gone, and my hair is a mess despite my attempts to smooth it.

The cashmere throw still smells like his cologne. I fold it carefully, unsure whether to be unsettled that he let me sleep rather than wake me.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I look at it.

Coffee on your desk. See you at the board meeting at 9.

Sure enough, a steaming cup from my favorite cafe is still hot. Dmitri must have just dropped it off. My stomach flips that even he knows my order.

I sink back into my chair, wrapping my arms around myself. The night replays in my mind—his touch, his voice, how he’d finally surrendered control. The vulnerability in his eyes before I’d drifted off in his arms.

I pull my emergency outfit from the hidden garment bag behind my filing cabinet—a navy St. John knit dress that’s boardroom-perfect. The fabric feels cool against my skin as I smooth it over my hips. Thank God I keep spare clothes here.

My makeup bag yields enough products to make me presentable. The woman in the mirror looks polished and professional—not like someone who spent the night thoroughly ravished in her office.

I spread the acquisition documents across my desk, highlighting key points for the presentation. The coffee Dmitri left is perfect—an oat milk latte with an extra shot. The fact that he knows exactly how I take it sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine.

At eight fifty-five, I stride into the boardroom. Dmitri’s already there, pristine in a charcoal Armani suit, not a hair out of place. He doesn’t even glance up from his phone.

“Good morning, Ms. Blackwood.” His voice is cool and professional. No hint of the man who whispered dirty words against my skin hours ago.

“Mr. Ivanov.” I take my seat across from him, spreading out my materials.

I grip my pen so hard it nearly snaps as Dmitri dissects my proposal with surgical precision. His tone is pure ice—nothing like the heat from last night. No trace of the man who touched me like he was starving.

“The provenance documentation seems incomplete.” He taps the folder with one manicured finger. “We’ll need a more thorough analysis of the collection’s history.”

My cheeks burn in indignation. How dare he sit there, criticizing my work like he didn’t have me moaning his name hours ago? Like he didn’t leave me sleeping alone in my office with nothing but a throw blanket?

“Perhaps Ms. Blackwood could elaborate on the authentication process?” His blue eyes meet mine, completely devoid of emotion.

I feel the eyes of the board members fix on me expectantly. I force my voice to stay steady. “The Petrov collection has been extensively verified by multiple independent experts. Their reports are included in Appendix C.”

“Hmm.” He flips through the pages, his expression bored. “These certifications appear outdated. We’ll need current documentation before proceeding.”

My blood boils. He knows damn well those certifications are valid—we discussed them in detail. Now, he’s deliberately undermining my work.

“The existing documentation meets industry standards,” I say through clenched teeth. “But if the board requires additional verification, I will arrange it.”

“See that you do.” He doesn’t even look up from his phone as he dismisses my months of research.

I dig my nails into my palms under the table, fighting to maintain my professional facade. The other board members drone on about budgets and logistics, but I can only focus on Dmitri’s complete indifference. The casual way he’s erased every heated moment between us.

His cologne drifts across the table—the same scent on my skin last night. I shuffle my papers, remembering how his perfectly manicured fingers traced patterns on my bare skin.

“Moving on to the next item,” he says smoothly like he can’t see me falling apart across the table.

I storm out of the boardroom when the meeting ends, my heels clicking against the marble as I march to my office, fumbling with the door handle.

“Running away, Ms. Blackwood?” Dmitri’s voice carries down the hallway.

I slam my office door, but he catches it before it closes. The lock clicks behind him as he steps inside.

“What kind of game are you playing?” I whirl to face him. “You completely undermined my work in there.”

“I was merely doing my job as a board member.” His perfect mask stays in place, but I catch his jaw twitching.

“Bullshit.” I step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You’re punishing me because I made you lose control last night.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” His voice drops to an icy tone. “This is business.”

“You’re a coward, Dmitri Ivanov.”

His eyes flash dark. In two strides, he crowds me against my desk, hands gripping the edge on both sides of me. “What did you call me?”

“A coward.” I lift my chin. “You’re terrified because, for once, your perfect control slipped. Because you actually felt something real.”

His breath comes faster, the mask cracking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” I press closer, watching his pupils dilate. “The great Dmitri Ivanov, so scared of his own feelings, has to hide behind board meetings and corporate politics.”

His fingers dig into the wood. “Natasha...” It’s a warning.

“At least I dare to admit what happened between us meant something.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. The cool facade shatters completely as he crushes his mouth to mine.

His mouth claims mine with bruising force for just a moment, but I shove him back. “No. You don’t get to do this. You left me sleeping in my office like some dirty secret.”

“I had to change.” His voice comes out rough, those ice-blue eyes blazing. “And I brought you coffee.”

“Coffee?” I laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “That’s your excuse? God, you really are a piece of work.”

“What did you expect? A love note?” He runs a hand through his perfect hair, messing it up. “This isn’t some romance novel, Natasha.”

“I expected basic human decency.” I grip the edge of my desk. “You could have woken me up. Instead, I had to sneak around my own office like?—”

“Like what?” He steps closer, his cologne making my head spin. “Like someone who let me fuck her on that very desk?”

A surge of heat fills my cheeks. “Don’t you dare try to shame me for last night.”

“I’m not.” He lowers his voice, sending shivers down my spine. “I’m reminding you what happens when we’re alone together.”

“That’s not going to work this time.” But my body betrays me, responding to his proximity. “You can’t just kiss me and make this go away.”

His eyes track down to my lips. “No?”

“No.” The word comes out breathier than I intended. “I deserve better than being treated like your dirty little secret.”

“Dirty little secret?” His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing my bottom lip. Despite my anger, I lean into his touch.

“What else could it be?” I whisper. “You won’t even look at me in meetings.”

“Because if I look at you,” his other hand grips my hip, pulling me closer, “I remember how you taste. How you sound when you come apart for me.”

My breath catches. “Dmitri...”

“Tell me to stop.” His lips brush my ear. “Tell me you don’t want this as badly as I do.”

“You’re unbelievable.” I shove against his chest, breaking free from his hold. “You think you can humiliate me with the board, then waltz in here and seduce me?”

“The board meeting was business.” His jaw tightens. “This is personal.”

“That’s exactly the problem.” I straighten my dress, putting the desk between us. “I won’t be your dirty little secret that you treat like garbage in public.”

“I wasn’t treating you like garbage.” His perfect composure slips. “I was being professional.”

“Professional?” I bark out a laugh. “You deliberately undermined months of my work. Those certifications are valid, and you know it.”

“The board expects a certain level of scrutiny?—”

“Oh, save it.” I snatch up the proposal folder. “You were being an ass because you’re scared someone might notice you actually care about something besides your precious control.”

His eyes flash. “Careful, Natasha.”

“Or what?” I step closer, chin raised. “You’ll punish me more in the next meeting? Go ahead. But don’t expect me to spread my legs for you afterward.”

“Such crude language from a society princess.” His lips twist into that infuriating smirk.

“Get out of my office.”

“Make me.” He leans against my doorframe, loosening his tie. “We both know how this ends.”

I grab the nearest object—a crystal paperweight—and hurl it at his head. He dodges smoothly, the smirk never leaving his face.

“Your aim needs work, printsessa .” He steps into the hallway. “But I do love watching you get all... worked up.”

The door clicks shut before I can throw something else. I sink into my chair, hands shaking with rage and lingering desire.

Damn him.

I slam my hand against my desk, rattling the papers and my coffee cup. The coffee he brought me. Like some twisted peace offering after leaving me alone in my office.

What was I thinking? I let Dmitri Ivanov seduce me right here. In my own sanctuary. The same man who just humiliated me.

My reflection in the window mocks me. I look perfectly put together in my navy dress, but I’m a mess inside. How did I go from warning Sofia about these men to spreading my legs for one of them? On my own desk, no less.

My skin still burns where he touched me. He wouldn’t even look at me in the boardroom—but I could feel his presence like an electric current. Even now, angry as I am, my body betrays me with memories of his hands, his mouth, the way he made me beg...

I press my thighs together, disgusted with my own weakness. This is exactly what he wants—to get under my skin, to make me doubt myself. To prove he can control me just like he controls everything else in his perfectly ordered world.

The coffee cup catches my eye again, and I dump it in the trash with a satisfying thunk. I won’t be another one of Dmitri Ivanov’s conquests. Another pretty thing he can add to his collection.

Even if part of me still aches for his touch.

God, I’m pathetic.