Page 68 of Twisted Proposal

More than one of the servers stared at me for a moment from across the room and whispered into the ears of their co-workers. The whispers slithered through the air like venomous snakes.

They were probably wondering if I was some poor girl with no idea who she was on a date with, or a hooker.

That seemed to be how people were choosing to see me lately, either as a naïve, stupid little girl or a sex worker.

I'd honestly rather they thought of me as a sex worker. At least there was some dignity in that. There was no dignity in stupidity.

"You're quiet tonight," Artem said as he sat back in the padded chair and took me in, his ice-gray eyes raking over my body like a physical caress. "Is there any reason?"

The loaded look he gave me told me exactly what he wanted to do. His jaw tightened with barely restrained hunger.

He wanted to talk about last night and this morning. Whether it was to gloat over my punishment or bask in the satisfaction of knowing he had made me come several times, my body betraying me as surely as my mind was beginning to, I didn't know.

Or maybe he wanted to talk about what that meant and how it was going to be going forward.

Either way, I couldn't handle it. Not when I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my thighs, the bruising grip of his fingers on my hips.

"It's just been a long day," I said with a polite smile, trying to get him to let his guard down.

I crossed my legs under the table, pressing my thighs together to quell the ache that bloomed there at the memory of his touch.

"How was your day?"Break anyone's legs?I finished silently.

"It was fine. Meetings that should have been e-mails, working with my brothers, which is a specific type of torture." His voice was a deep velvet timbre that vibrated through me. "Why was today longer than any other day?"

"Just a class I'm not fond of." I smiled, letting the tip of my tongue dart out to wet my lips.

I didn't miss how his eyes tracked the movement, his own lips parting slightly.

"Speaking of brothers, can I ask how you knew Dima?"

Artem gave me a long, hard look. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

He knew what I was doing. It was in his eyes, sharp as cut diamonds. The question was whether he would let me get away with it.

Sweet, charming, and disarming.

The three greatest tools at a woman's disposal. Men who demanded control and power would always underestimate women. If we could charm them with a girlish sweetness, then they would tell us anything we needed to know.

It was something my mother told me when I was young. I thought it was silly and trivial. Now I wished I had taken her lessons to heart and practiced them.

How was I supposed to lure him into my trap, get him to show me the way to be rid of him, without falling into his trap?

"I actually met Dima when I was in Pennsylvania giving a lecture at some college on engineering." His fingers toyed with the stem of his wineglass, those same fingers that had explored every inch of my body just hours ago.

"What do you know about engineering?" The words flew from my lips before I could take them back, sharp as daggers.

He didn't seem offended. In fact, he sat a little straighter in his seat and a smile turned up at his lips.

"I'm an engineer. I have a master’s level degree from MSU." Pride colored his words, and for a moment, he looked almost human.

"MSU?" I leaned forward, the movement causing my dress to dip lower, exposing more of my cleavage.

His eyes dropped momentarily before snapping back to mine, darkening with desire.

"Lomonosov Moscow State University. I develop guidance and control systems for missiles and other precision-guided munitions." His accent thickened slightly, rolling his r's in a way that sent a shudder over me.

"So you build things to help governments kill each other and the innocent people who happen to be around them?" Why couldn't I stop my mouth from talking? Why did I keep antagonizing the beast?