Page 9 of Under His Control (Silver Fox Daddies #27)

TAYLOR

I nearly spit the wine out all over his desk. A drop escapes the corner of my mouth, and I swipe at it, coughing so hard my eyes water.

Anatoly doesn’t even flinch. He just waits, the picture of lethal calm.

“ Marry ?you?”

“Yes,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just propose marriage. “A mutually beneficial arrangement.”

I set my glass down before I drop it.

“Mutually beneficial,” I echo. “You’ll have to walk me through that math, because I’m not fully understanding.”

His mouth curves into a wolfish grin. “It’s simple.

I clear your brother’s debt in full and tell the Smirnovs he’s no longer an asset worth pursuing.

I’ll have him blacklisted among the city’s crime families; they’ll never hire him again for any type of work.

You’d get your brother back in one piece. ”

“OK, so it’s clear what I would get out of this.” I cross my arms, forcing myself to breathe evenly. “But what exactly do you gain? Please don’t say companionship, because we both know you don’t need a ring for that.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Sex is easy to obtain, Taylor. I’m after something real.

” He leans forward, his jacket opening, revealing a hard plane of chest beneath a crisp white shirt.

My eyes betray me, lingering on the faint tension at the buttons.

I imagine them giving way beneath my fingers, one after another.

“Such as?” I ask.

“A wife,” he says simply. “Obtaining a legal wife satisfies a requirement in my parents’ will.”

I blink, totally taken off guard. “Wait, what?”

“My parents were traditional. Wealthy, powerful, and obsessed with legacy. When they passed, they left behind a stipulation in the will that tied control of the Hospitium and the rest of our estate to one condition—I must be married. Legally. Publicly. No loopholes.”

I stare at him. “That’s extreme.”

A low chuckle escapes him. “They were extreme people. My father built the Hospitium from the ground up. My mother made it iconic. Their final wish was that it remain in the family—but only if that family continues. If I fail to meet the terms, everything goes into a trust, then it will all be sold off, with the proceeds donated to charity. The hotel, the properties, the legacy. All gone.”

I swallow hard. “So, if you don’t get married?—”

“I lose the Hospitium . My home. My claim to everything they built.”

My mind spins.

He continues. “There’s a deadline, and it’s soon.”

My pulse thuds in my ears. “And that deadline is?”

He leans back slowly, eyes still on mine. “Ten days from now.”

Ten days.

That explains the pressure. The sudden proposal. The way he’s looking at me like I’m a filet mignon on the grill.

“So,” he says quietly, “you give me legitimacy, and I give your brother a second chance. I’ll handle the Bratva.

You marry me and my legacy stays intact.

You walk away with clean hands and a full bank account when it’s over.

Unless, of course,” his gaze drifts over my mouth, my throat, “we decide we want something more.”

Heat curls low in my belly.

Don’t picture him naked. Don’t picture him naked.

Too late.

I swallow hard. “I–I’m not good at flirting,” I admit, cheeks blazing. “If this hinges on me appealing to your ego?—”

“It doesn’t,” he cuts in. “I’m making a business offer. Whether it becomes anything else is entirely up to us.”

He stands up straight, smooth as silk, and extends a hand. The room tilts as I’m suddenly aware of how large he is, how tiny my hand looks in his. Electricity snaps through me as he leads me around the desk to a charcoal suede couch.

Focus .

“You’d really enter into a false marriage?”

His icy blue gaze pins me. “I would; it’s what will keep my legacy intact.” He pauses, lowering his voice. “And it puts a woman I already admire at my side. I admire competence. I admire loyalty. You have both. At least, that’s what Charles tells me.”

He places his hand on my knee, and I just about jump out of my skin.

As I stare at it—large, elegant, capable of both tenderness and power—a dizzying heat floods through me. I imagine that hand sliding higher, up my thigh, under my skirt, those long fingers testing how ready I am for him. My breath stutters.

“What do you think?”

I force myself to look at him. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

Silence stretches. There’s one more question I need to ask.

“Would we—” I can’t even say the words.

“Be intimate?” he finishes for me, following his words with a chuckle then a smile. “I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

This is insane.But the alternative is Chris being murdered by the Bratva.

I lift my glass, needing moisture for my suddenly parched throat. I take a sip, then meet his gaze again.

“And if I say no?”

His expression doesn’t change, but the air drops ten degrees.

“Then I’ll find another solution,” he says quietly.

“But I can’t promise your brother’s safety.

And you’ll still owe the Bratva.” He considers for a moment.

“As a personal favor for hearing out my proposal—and signing an NDA, of course—I’d arrange a safe ride for Chris out of town before the Bratva finds him.

But from that point on, he’d be on his own. ”

A chill slithers down my spine. I set the glass down carefully, gather every shard of courage I own, and square my shoulders.

“All right,” I whisper, conceding. “Explain exactly how this will work—what you expect from me, what I can expect from you.”

He smiles, slow and devastating. “That’s my girl.

” The endearment sinks deep, sending a fresh wave of…

something through me. “First, we draft a contract, citing clear and thorough terms. You’ll remain in your current role, and we’ll present a united front in public.

As far as private matters go,” his gaze dips to my mouth, “We’ll navigate those as they come. ”

“And if we decide we want more?”

His thumb strokes my knee, reminding me that his hand is on my leg. “Then more is exactly what we’ll have.”

A pulse throbs between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together, but that only traps the heat. I’m wet already from his voice, his nearness. If he slides that hand a few inches higher, I’ll come completely undone.

I swallow. “So, Mr. Ovechkin?—”

“Anatoly,” he corrects.

“Anatoly. What’s the next step?”

He leans in, his breath skimming my ear. “Next, I’ll have my attorney draft the contract. If you agree, we both sign.”

I turn my head slightly, our mouths just inches apart. His lips are so close, so tempting. I ache to taste the wine on his tongue. “You’re moving awfully fast.”

“I only have ten days left. Besides, you said your brother didn’t have much time, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then say yes to me.”

My heart hammers so loud he must be able to hear it. I close my eyes and inhale his scent. When I open them again, resolve clicks into place.

“I’ll need to see that contract soon,” I say, voice steadier than I feel, “but…yes. I’m willing to discuss terms, at least.”

His answering smile is pure, dark satisfaction. He lifts his glass in a silent toast, the garnet-colored liquid catching the light and appearing like blood. I mirror the gesture with trembling fingers.

But before I take a drink, I lower the glass, a lingering question I need to know clawing its way to the surface. I shift slightly on the couch, nerves lighting up beneath my skin.

“Why me? Surely, there are many women who would jump at this proposition. Models. Socialites. Trust-fund princesses who’d marry you just for the status. So…why me? I’m just a random employee.”

Anatoly doesn’t flinch. He sets his glass on the table with deliberate calm and leans closer, the scent of cedar and power wrapping around me like a noose.

His fingers lift to brush a strand of hair from my cheek, slow and warm. They linger just enough to make my breath hitch.

“Because I’m not looking for a trophy on my arm or a name in a contract. I’m looking for someone who’s already proven herself.”

I blink, confused.

“Charles speaks highly of you,” he continues. “Says you’re brilliant. Competent. A natural leader with nerves of steel under pressure. I find that extremely attractive.”

My stomach flips. I wasn’t expecting that. At all.

“You’re loyal to your family and you care for them deeply,” he adds. “So much so that you were ready to sacrifice your future and your financial security for your brother’s life, willing to suffer in silence for years, if necessary. That’s noble, Taylor. That’s strength.”

I swallow hard.

“And let’s not forget,” he says, lips curving into a smirk, “you walked into Mrs. Belova’s lair without blinking. I’ve seen cold-hearted Bratva killers cower under her gaze, but you? You held your ground. Risked your job. You came for what you wanted, and you didn’t back down.”

His fingers trail along my jaw, slow and intimate before falling away. His gaze is pure heat, slow-burning and possessive.

“I won’t have to fake attraction for publicity’s sake. Not for a second.”

The room tilts again, and my legs press tighter together, the ache between them sharp, insistent. He’s watching, reading every reaction, and I realize he likes that I can’t hide how badly I want him.

“Now, shall we discuss the rest of the benefits?”

I draw a shaky breath, forcing my thoughts back to the present. I lift my chin in defiance. “Not until the contract is clear.” My voice trembles, and I know he hears the unspoken invitation beneath the words.

He nods, eyes gleaming. “Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

The words come out before I can stop them.

“I want to know about you. Everything.”