Page 14 of Wicked Proposal

“I’m a man of action, Ms. Winters,” he whispers into my ear. “Not words.”

My mind runs off with it—the image of Yulian in action. The question of just how much this dark stranger is capable of.

It paints a vivid picture, starting with the tattoos I can see crawling up his hands and wrists.

I catch myself wondering how far they go. How they might flex and curl around his muscles in motion, if by some wave of my fairy godmother’s wand, his suit was to suddenly disappear…

“If I had a nickel for every time some fuckboy said that to me, I wouldn’t have had to take you up on your stupid offer,” I retort.

It’s a little feisty—I’m definitely biting the hand that’s literally feeding me—but something tells me that Yulian here will appreciate a spark of defiance.

Sure enough, he’s not bothered in the least. In fact, he makes a humming sound deep in his throat, like a purring jaguar. It vibrates through every inch of my skin.

“What would it take?” he murmurs, tracing the line of my shoulder strap. Goosebumps bloom where he touches me, a thousand tiny alarms. “For you to believe me?”

I want to tell him.

I want to tell himexactlyhow he could convince me—with his tongue, hands, lips—of anything he wanted me to believe.

God, I want it so bad.

“I…”

And then, suddenly, Yulian’s phone rings.

He growls in his throat as he pulls away. “One moment.”

He glances at the screen. His eyebrows furrow, and all the heat that had been simmering in the air disappears beneath the smog of his irritation.

“Tell me you’re not seriously calling me from the driver’s seat,mudak.”

As if by magic, the partition slowly sinks, revealing Maksim’s face. “What? You might’ve been busy.”

“I was.” My cheeks flush at the thought of just what he’d been busy with—me.“Start talking before I chuck this at your head.”

Undeterred by Yulian’s threats, Maksim grins. “Just got a quick question for ya. The men are taking care of the, ah,Boylan problem.Only, the usual dumping ground is a no-go. Apparently, there’s a construction site right over it.”

“Then melt him and turn him into fucking soap,” Yulian snarls. “I don’t care how you do it. Just make sure there’s nothing left to find.”

Welp, that’s a mood killer.

Literally.

The illusion shatters. My thoughts sharpen again, fog clearing all at once.

Suddenly, I remember.

I remember way, way too much.

There’s a man in New York. A hotshot CEO, constantly at the top of Forbes40 Over 40andMost Eligible Bachelorlists.

A man who’s rumored to be involved with the Russian criminal underworld. Nothing anyone can prove, but enough that the whispers are barely even whispers anymore.

And his name is Yulian Lozhkin.

Yulian.

Fuck. I can’t believe it. Of all the people in this city—all the rich assholes with money to throw at their problems…