Bedded and Deceived

by Tee, Marian

Honestly, if we did time travel to the past, and Dmitry was the master I'd end up with, I'd obey his every command with pleasure. Oh, just the thought of my boss ordering me to do anything naughty...

  Siiiiiigh.

  The images that fluttered in my mind were decidedly NSFW, and I absently ran my tongue over my lips—-

  "Fuck."

  Dmitry had chosen that exact moment to glance up, and I found myself frozen with fear, the tip of my tongue still out.

  "Fuck."

  Two F-bombs in a row were never good, and as expected, the enigmatic billionaire was now glaring at me like I had just admitted to killing chihuahuas for fun. That was also my cue to leave, and I gestured nervously towards the contracts he had yet to sign, saying weakly, "Mr. Diamandis..."

  "I'll get it to him," Dmitry snapped. "Now go."

  I was out in a flash, heart racing like I had just dodged a bullet. Even though I was willing to bet my entire life that the billionaire would never raise a hand against me...

  What my mind knew was one thing. What my body instinctively felt was another, and my knees instantly turned into jelly the moment I stumbled back into my seat. I rested trembling fingers over my chest, and my heart thumped instantly against it.

  Dmitry would never hurt me. Never.

  But that didn't make him any less terrifying.

  Dmitry was not evil, and he never would be.

  But that didn't mean I was completely safe.

  Dmitry hated me, and that was unlikely to ever change.

  But even so...

  Idiot, I chided myself as I reached for the mouse and clicked open a new spreadsheet to tackle. Such an idiot, Tahoma Garamond Baskerville. Such! An! Idiot!

  MOST PEOPLE PROBABLY imagined my work with Strakh Inc. to be exciting and dangerous, but if that had really been the case, they would have never hired a klutz like me.

  In reality, my main job was to crunch numbers forty hours a week, and I was really good at it. Exceptional even, which could be why I had ended up in their radar in the first place.

  But as much as I enjoyed working on spreadsheets, there had also been times when I felt that my job was slowly killing me with boredom. It was only when I started working for Strakh Inc. that everything became meaningful, and each spreadsheet became the most glorious hunt for uncovering fraudulent anomalies.

  And while my job description might still leave a lot to be desired for people who weren't big with numbers, perks-wise, however...

  My workplace - contrary to my initial fears - was not the claustrophobic underground hideout where I had my job interview. Instead, I got to work Mondays to Fridays in the same swanky building, above ground. Our office was at 34F while my apartment - which I enjoyed rent-free - was at 24F. I even had a company-paid SUV for personal use...plus gas allowance!

  A dream job, just like Keagan said, but the perks were only the icing on the cake. What truly made my work worthwhile was the absolute certainty that everything I now did served a higher purpose.

  Just last week in fact, I was able to uncover a paper trail leading to a corrupt politician's secret bank account in the Cayman Islands, and recalling this had me smiling.

  Oh, the joy of cracking the supposedly uncrackable—-

  "Fuck."

  My head jerked up, and I bit back a yelp of surprise at finding Dmitry suddenly standing across my desk. With his height and build, you'd think he'd be lumbering around like, I don't know, an elephant?

  But no.

  Instead, he was impossibly stealthy like the jaguar he reminded me of, and I supposed that made sense, since he was the leader of Strakh Inc. and-—

  Oh shit, my boss was still glaring at me.

  "S-Sorry, sir." I hastily got rid of my smile, thinking that it was what he found so offensive. "Is there anything I can do—-"

  A sheaf of papers landed on my desk. "I've made a couple of revisions," he said brusquely. "I need it back before lunchtime."

  "I'll get on it right—-" My voice trailed off as Dmitry had already turned around and stalked off.

  Wake up and start smelling the shit, T.G.!

  WEEK 14 ON THE JOB, and as pathetic as it was to admit, I still hadn't found a way to wean myself off Dmitry even after months - months! - of being ignored, scowled, and glared at.

  Granted, I did get some encouragement from Sasha, who once told me not to take things personally, but...

  I bit back a sigh as I remembered what had taken place that day. It was just last week when Dmitry's younger brother and the other men making up Strakh Inc. had a meeting at the "battle room", a.k.a. the place where the world's strangest job interview had taken place.

  You'd think Dmitry would at least try toning down on the hatred while the others were around, but yeah - didn't happen. He had still acted as if I were the grossest thing on the planet, with the way his lip had curled every time I entered the room, and the way he had scowled and glared whenever he caught me speaking with any of the other guys.

  It was almost as if he was just waiting for me to betray Strakh Inc. so he could have an excuse to pounce and hang me for dear life. And Sasha, seeing this, was so moved - either by my tenacity or idiocy - that he had taken me aside before leaving.

  Please don't take it personally, Dmitry's younger brother (he was Voice #1, in case you hadn't figured out that part yet) had told me with quiet insistence. He's only like this because you remind Dmitry of someone he knows, and the memories associated with that person are far from good.

  All the while Sasha was speaking, I remembered thinking at that time how his voice had sounded so much gentler. So, so gentle that it was impossible not to understand what he wasn't saying without words...

  I reminded Dmitry of an evil ex-girlfriend, and this was Sasha's way of telling me that while he knew I'd do everything I could to get his brother to stop hating me...

  It just wasn't possible, and maybe it never would be.

  I HAD ONCE FOOLISHLY thought that if I understood why Dmitry hated me and found his reason was valid, that would be enough, and my attraction to him would die a natural death.

  Yeah.

  Right.

  That was just purely wishful thinking on my part. I was already on Week 16 with Strakh Inc., and nothing had changed. I'd make coffee in the morning, Dmitry would get a couple of F-bombs in before lunchtime, and in between analyzing financial statements and working on my forecasts, I'd usually struggle with my Hamlet-like temptation.

  To stare or not to stare, that is the question.

  The one time my gorgeous but mean-as-hell boss caught me staring at him, Dmitry had stared right back...at my neck. Really hard, too, until it became obvious he was mentally estimating its size (S or XS?) so he could start shopping online for a noose. My noose, in case you're wondering.

  So yeah, lesson learned after that.

  And what I learned was...not to stop staring. Instead, I just worked harder these days at being sneaky and making sure that I was all subtle and discreet when my obsession got the better of me, and I just had to find a way to stare at him.

  He was just so, so...hot.

  Just something about him that drew me in like no one else, something about him alone that's just...ugh.

  Back when I just started working for him, I had really thought my obsession with him was like this summer flu I could eventually recover from. But obviously, that didn't happen, and my crush on him only kept growing each day until it was now the size of the state of Texas.

  My next strategy had been to try understanding the source of my attraction to him. I was hoping that if I could somehow find out why I found him so attractive, I could then start searching for - and dating - a guy who was similar but a lot less prone to cursing at the sight of me.

  Originally, I had put it down to the fact that he was one of the men that made up Strakh Inc., and the dangerously exciting double life he led - dashing billionaire by day, fearless vigilante by night - was what attracted me the most.

  But then I'd be asked t
o stick around for one of those rare Strakh Inc. meetings at the battle room, and no matter how long and hard I made myself stare at the other guys...

  Sasha was a gentleman through and through, but I could only look at him as my brother from another mother.

  Stelios Diamandis (aka Voice #2), a smooth-talking Greek billionaire, never failed to charm a smile out of me, but that was it.

  Drake Morrison, the one whose voice was too casual, turned out to be ex-FBI, and while I no longer found him intimidating, the only other feeling he inspired was sadness. The pain that haunted his gaze never seemed to go away, not even when he was busy making fun of my "Mrs. Doubtfire" glasses.

  Lastly, there was Bastien Havenstein - he with the gravelly, rumbling tone. Tall, big, and hard as a tank - sort of like Jason Momoa, same beard and all, but minus the lengthy locks. The German tycoon didn't speak much, but he always had a kind word to spare when he was around.

  Just like my boss, the four other members of Strakh Inc. were the kind that topped the usual lists of who's who, who's hottest and richest, year after year after year.

  And yet...

  Not a single one of them made my heart flutter. Not one of them made me want to steal glances over and over. Not one of them made me dream of kisses and lingering touches.

  But then I'd find my gaze accidentally drift towards Dmitry, and...

  Ooh...la...laaaaaaaaaaa.

  I'd see him walking away, and I'd find myself wondering how it would feel, to rake my nails over the muscled cheeks of his ass as he joined our bodies and made us one.

  I'd see his lips move as he spoke to the other guys, and I'd find myself wondering how it would feel, having my own lips crushed under that cruelly beautiful mouth of his.

  I might still be a virgin, but I wasn't born in the eighteenth century. My favorite romance novels were more than a little raunchy, and they were enough to help me reasonably guess things like how, um, well-endowed my boss was.

  A few seconds of watching Dmitry, and man...

  That was all it took.

  A few seconds, and the stories I could make up about him and me, together, were endless.

  Just a few seconds, a few seconds that I believed were harmless because I didn't think my boss would ever notice.

  But I was wrong.

  IT WAS AN UNUSUALLY breezy Friday afternoon in September, and I had been about to lock up and leave when I received a text from Dmitry. He had never texted me before this, and I had an even bigger shock when I finally read his message.

  I need you to order dinner for two. Choose whatever you think's good.

  My knees knocked against each other, and I collapsed back into my chair as I found myself suddenly out of breath.

  Did I read that right?

  I rubbed my eyes and made myself read the message one more time. And another. And another. But the words didn't disappear. They were still there.

  Was this Dmitry's way of offering an olive branch?

  Or was I allowed to hope and think of this as Dmitry asking me out on a date?

  Oh my God.

  Either possibility was enough to make me feel giddy. Too giddy, in fact, that I had to spend several moments just trying to catch my breath and calming myself down.

  Focus, T.G. Focus.

  I reached for my phone, thought for a moment, and then I decided to call my favorite steak place.

  Salad, two steaks cooked medium rare, and a slice of chocolate cake to share.

  After this, I couldn't resist the temptation of dashing down to the gym a couple of floors below. Membership was yet another job perk, and this gave me the chance to have a quick shower, blow-dry my hair, and get back to the office just in time to receive deliveries.

  My thoughts started running wild as I set up a table for two at the balcony. Was it too much to light some candles, maybe start playing music from my phone?

  Mm.

  I tried imagining Dmitry's reaction to this and almost winced.

  Nah.

  I had just finished pouring red wine into a pair of glasses when I heard the doors by the reception slide open.

  Stay calm, T.G.

  I heard the balcony doors slide open next, and my toes curled hard inside of my shoes.

  Let's try playing it cool, even if only for a—-

  A feminine gasp interrupted my thoughts, and I froze in shock.

  "Oh gosh."

  That voice...was definitely not my boss's.

  "This is so gorg, Dimmy. Why do you keep spoiling me?"

  My head jerked up, just in time to see a redhead throw her arms around Dimmy's neck, and as she raised herself on her toes and started showering kisses all over my boss's handsome face—-

  Our gazes clashed, and what I saw in his eyes...

  Ah.

  It was then that I realized.

  He knew.

  From the very start, probably.

  He knew.

  Dmitry Adrianov knew I was attracted to him.

  And this was his answer to it.

  Chapter Three

  Five years ago, Dmitry Adrianov had been the typical European playboy: he worked hard and played harder, and he would not have minded living the rest of his life in such a way.

  A personal tragedy, however, changed all of this for him and his younger brother, and it was then he decided to establish Strakh Inc., a secret organization that was to operate under one non-negotiable credo: audacia pro muro et scuto opus.

  Boldness is our wall, action is our shield.

  Furious and bitter at the way even the world's most powerful governments proved unreliable - and at times even hostile - in his family's quest for justice, Dmitry had since made a vow to go where others didn't dare go.

  He risked everything without hesitation, putting his own life on the line and doing everything that his money could afford him to destroy those who had amassed their personal fortunes by preying on the weak and the oppressed.

  Sasha, upon learning of his older brother's plans, had been on board to join him from the start, and after that, Dmitry had only needed a couple of months to complete Strakh Inc.'s inner circle.

  While the other guys hadn't any problems with Dmitry taking on the mantle of leadership, the lot of them had also made a pact to never let their personal affairs affect the activities of Strakh Inc.

  And so when the organization had a need to add another analyst to its payroll, and one of the prospective recruits turned out to be T.G. Baskerville...

  Dmitry had allowed nature to take its course while privately hoping the girl would fail the comprehensive battery of tests meant to weed out the unsuitable and untrustworthy. But when test results came out, the girl's scores had been better than everyone else's across the board, and at that point, Dmitry's only recourse had been to hope that she wouldn't end up working directly under him...

  But instead, once again, Fate decided to fuck things up.

  Not only did the girl end up choosing his number, she had also turned out to be someone Dmitry found infinitely fuckable and damn near impossible to resist...despite all the reasons he had to despise her.

  TAHEY was staring at him again. He had heard her on a video call with her friend once, and the other girl had called his secretary 'Tahey'. The name had stuck since then, not that she was ever meant to know.

  As he worked on the next set of contracts Stelios had sent him, Dmitry could still feel his secretary's gaze darting on him every so often, and the knowledge was making it harder for him to concentrate. It was also making his pants uncomfortably tight, and if this fucking continued...

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Dmitry switched his hold on the papers to his left hand and then used his right hand to rub his erection, all the while imagining it was Tahey who was doing it.

  God, he was sick, desiring the girl he despised.

  But it was her fault, too, dammit.

  Did she really think she was being subtle with the way she kept staring and licking her lips every so often? />
  In the four months Tahey had started working for him, Dmitry had hoped that his interest in her would eventually wane. He had hoped that his attraction to her would be a flash in the pan, and that he only found himself desiring her because she was something new and different.

  Tahey was remarkably attractive, certainly, but being a billionaire, Dmitry had met countless women who were more sophisticated and whose countenances were so heavenly they could drive a man crazy with need.

  And yet...

  None of those women had ever made Dmitry feel the way she did. It was her face, always just her face, that he ended up seeing the moment he closed his eyes in the shower. Always her image that he found himself jacking off to like a fucking boy who had yet to have his first taste of pussy.

  Everything about her fascinated him.

  Every goddamn thing.

  She always had her hair neatly pinned up in a chignon, and seeing it made him want to see her long blonde locks ripple down her naked back. So many moments he'd catch her doe eyes avidly studying him through granny-styled prescription glasses, and every damn time, it would make him want to yank her glasses off so he could fuck her mouth with his tongue. Or cock.

  The fucking point was, he was obsessed with her when he wasn't supposed to be, and he had no fucking idea why.

  Every second spent in her company was a struggle against the temptation to yank her close, and it only got worse with every day that passed. Just fucking worsened to the point that Dmitry could only curse himself out loud, every time his cock threatened to overrule his mind.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  It was what he ended up saying every time he caught Tahey doing something that had his mind going blank, and all he'd know was this sudden, desperate need to have even the smallest taste of her.

  It could be something as simple as her lips absently curving in a smile when she was lost in her thoughts or seeing her doe eyes light up every time he walked into the office.

  But in other days, it was a lot dirtier. Since only a glass partition separated his private office from her own workspace, there were a lot of times he was able to study her from the comfort of his desk, and fuck if he didn't often catch her in the most delectable positions.