Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
But I can’t deny the call sounded real, the pain in their voices unfeigned and pulling at a part of me I thought long-buried. And I’m trying desperately to ignore the small part of me that gave her the phone because Vasya’s plea got to me.
So, Eva haunts me. She’s in my dreams, asleep and awake. She’s there in my mind’s eye when I should be working. And I can feel her under my skin at night when I know she’s at the opposite end of the house.
Her dark eyes bore into me, and my fingers itch to touch her again, to feel the silk of that wealth of hair and the soft warmth of her skin. I want to taste her lips like I should have that night at the club. I want to feel her writhing beneath me, burning with desire as she screams for the release only I can give her.
“Boss?”
Dmitri’s question jerks me out of a vision of Eva up against a wall, hair wild, hands pinned, my name on her lips as she screams through her orgasm.
“What?”
Dmitri’s eyebrows lift at my snapped reply, and I adjust myself. The thick bulge in my pants is uncomfortable.
“Did you hear what I said?”
He knows better than to ask if I’m okay, though the question is obvious on his face.
“No.”
Dmitri’s eyebrows lift further, and he licks his lips. I’ve been snapping at everyone and everything lately.
“I said the police found Vladislav dead this morning.”
His sentence brings all my thoughts to a grinding halt. Another one of my men? Murdered?
“What?”
Even I can hear the dangerous edge to my growl, the one that makes Dmitri, for once, take a step away from me.
“The police are starting to look into it,” he tells me. “I’m sorry, Evgeny. With the string of killings lately, we couldn’t keep this out of their hands.”
Anger starts as a tingle and a tightening in the center of my chest, picking up speed and intensity as it pounds through me. It builds until I finally explode to my feet, knocking over the pile of papers and books on my desk with a sweep of my fist.
“Fuck!”
Dmitri takes another uncharacteristic step back, eyes on my face as though he’s trying to decide whether I’ll turn on him. He still isn’t sure as I stalk past him toward my office door.
“Just take care of this,” I snarl back at him. “This is the last thing we need while trying to win the development contract.”
I slam the door behind me, leave my home office, and pound down the hallway to the gym I built. My body wants only one thing right now, but the punching bag will have to do.
For an hour, I work out my anger and frustration on the treadmill, the weight machines, and finally on the punching bag.
Then the security pad on the gym door lights up with a video.
Fucking Eva.
She’s wandering down the hallway, looking at the art I’ve collected over the years like she belongs here. Like this is her home instead of mine.
Dmitri talked me into letting Eva roam the halls unaccompanied, reasoning that she wouldn’t be able to escape. I’d disagreed at first, but he’d pointed out that we would get more work out of her if she had more freedom, a point I couldn’t argue against. Her freedom, though, would come with strict rules.
And now she’s wandering in my personal space, as though having her in the same damn house isn’t challenging enough. As though she’s not here at the worst possible time when I can barely control my rage, a rage she is partly responsible for.
She nearly screams when I jerk the door open.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
She backs up two steps, her eyes wide, fear sparking in the air between us as the storm of anger rolls off me.
I yank her into the room and slam the door behind me, unwilling to let her go now that she’s the focus of my fury.
Eva stumbles as I let her go, catching herself on a weight bench, watching me warily. I can see her hands shaking, though she tries to hide it, and it makes my blood boil.
“Didn’t Dmitri tell you to stay the fuck away from the north wing? Why can’t you fucking listen?”
“I…” she starts, stumbles, then says, “I think it’s a dumb rule.”
“A dumb rule?” I echo. “You are a guest in my house, and you—”
“I’m not a fucking guest, asshole!” Eva shouts back, hands still shaking even though they’re clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re keeping me here against my will. You took me from my house, away from my family, and you’re forcing me to work for you under threat of my family’s well-being. That is not a guest!”
She’s up against the wall in a heartbeat, my hands and greater bulk pinning her shoulders. I see real fear in her eyes, and I relish how it feeds the rush in my blood like kindling to a fire.