by Miranda Kavi
“Keep it. Seven?”
“What use do I have for it?” she said.
“Every person should have a way to defend herself. I will see you tonight. I’m looking forward to it.”
Then he hung up. She didn’t remember saying yes. Damn control freak.
She couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. Tonight. Dmitri. Dinner. She couldn’t wait to see him.
“What the hell is going on?” Ms. Relder shoved her door open so hard, it bounced against the wall and rebounded into her hip. She shoved it out of the way.
Marsha came in behind her. “Sorry, Sophia. I tried—” Her voice cut off at the sight of Ms. Relder’s face.
Sophia stood up and placed herself between Ms. Relder and Marsha. “That’s absolutely fine. Thank you, Marsha. Please close the door on your way out.”
Sophia watched Marsha with her scared, pale face back out of the office. She turned her attention to Ms. Relder.
“And what is this?” Sophia said.
“You. What the hell do you think you are doing?” Ms. Relder said.
For the first time, Sophia saw her hands were full of files. Ms. Relder moved past Sophia, slamming them on her desk. Sophia’s paperweight rolled off.
“Do not touch my desk.” Sophia bent over to pick up her paperweight.
“Special request from a valued client.” Ms. Relder used her fingers to make air quotes around client. “They have asked for a secondment. From you. To work there.”
“Secondment?” Sophia echoed.
“Yes, a secondment, where you will be temporarily assigned to work out of their office and handle their issues, but still be on our payroll.”
“I know what a secondment is,” Sophia snapped. “With whom?”
“Who do you think? EBCasp National.” She placed her hands on her broad hips. “I don’t know what your game is, but you better tell me fast.”
Sophia stifled a smile. “I guess you would be the one to explain, Ana. After all, it was you that pulled me into this client meeting. Perhaps it is my knowledge of Russian language and culture.”
“How dare you!” Ms. Relder’s face morphed into a kaleidoscope of mottled red and purple. “What have you done? Why are they interested in you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sophia said.
The buzzing of her intercom made them both jump. “Sophia, Dmitri from EBCasp on line one again,” Marsha said.
“Tell him I will call him back,” Sophia said as steady as she could.
Ms. Relder gaped at Sophia.
Marsha’s voice came back over the speaker. “Um...Sophia? He said it was urgent.”
Sophia picked up the handset. “Yes, Dmitri?”
“I love your voice, did you know that?” he said in Russian.
Sophia suppressed another smile. “How can I help you?” she said in a formal tone.
“You are not alone?” he said.
“No. Ms. Relder is here with me,” she said.
Ms. Relder gasped.
“Tell that cunt to shut her fucking mouth about me, then. By the way, I have arranged it so we will be working closely together. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I noticed. We shall discuss it later.”
“Yes, Sophia,” he growled. His voice held promises she couldn’t think about at the moment.
“Goodbye, Dmitri.”
She hung up the phone.
“Dmitri? Why is he calling you?” Ms. Relder stepped closer to her desk.
“I’m working with my new client which I have been seconded to by this organization. Is there anything else, Ms. Relder?” Sophia forced her fingers to move back over her keyboard, eyes glued to the screen.
“You better tell me, or else—”
Sophia cut her off. “Or else what, Ms. Relder? You will go the board? Get me fired? Expose what happened at that meeting?”
Ms. Relder’s eye widened as far as they could with all the surgical modifications on her face. “Don’t mess with me. You don’t know what you are doing, little girl.” Her voice was low and raspy.
Rage coursed through Sophia’s veins. It took everything she had to not retort at her condescending speech. “Goodbye, Ms. Relder,” she said stiffly, instead. Sophia pushed past her to open the door to her office.
Ms. Relder stomped out. Sophia watched her go, one shaking hand on the doorway. Marsha sat at her desk outside Sophia’s door, her and a handful of other admins watching were wide-eyed, fingers poised over keyboards, phones ringing unanswered.
“What a bitch!” Marsha said.
Sophia looked at the mild-mannered woman in surprise. They shared a smile. “Agreed,” Sophia said.
She returned to her office, shut down her email, opened up the server, and began digging through the contract files again.
By the end of the day, she had a long, handwritten list of corporations. She found documents to register corporations with the state on another server for some of them, but it looked like they weren’t ever filed with the state, but were used to get federal tax ID numbers as if they were actually legit corporations.
She was pretty sure that wasn’t legal.
She shoved the handwritten notes and the print-ups of the unfiled state documents in her briefcase. No way in hell she was leaving them in the office with Ana sniffing around.
She left at six o’clock. She kept her mind and hands busy all day, just barely giving herself enough time to drive home and get ready. It was an intentional act to avoid thinking about what she was doing.
Dating a criminal. Liking him. Sleeping with him. Wanting him for more than that.
She poked the down button at the elevator bank. No. She wouldn’t think about that right now. All she’d think about was his smile, the way his body lit her up end to end, the way his tough exterior broke through hers.
Yes.
She’d traveled down the elevator, sinking down to the first floor. Her stomach dropped, too. Her briefcase pulled on her shoulder, a physical reminder of the lies her company was swimming in, and the lies she was telling herself to think that it was okay to get involved with Dmitri. Because it was not okay. It’s so…
Ding.
The elevator opened to the parking garage. Quick strides brought her to her car. She threw her purse in first, then her briefcase. She was halfway in the car before she saw the strange man standing near the elevator bank.
He was staring at her. She stood up again, left her car door open, and watched him back. He was there, with dark hair, wearing a suit. He turned away and walked quickly into the stairwell behind the elevator bank.
What the…
Another reminder of the mess she was in. She’d never seen him before. It’s more than coincidence that she’d seen strange men lurking around since…Dmitri.
His name scrolled across her brain like a neon-bright, flashing, billboard: Beautiful and exotic, but very dangerous.
And she couldn’t wait to see him.
She returned to her car, shut the door, and locked it. She pulled out of the garage and waited in the long line of cars to get on the highway. In the silence of the car, feelings of fear, regret, and loss pushed through her denials.
She swallowed them back down. She deserved to be happy. She could go out on a date with whomever she liked.
It was just dinner.
She pulled into her driveway at 6:45, which gave her only fifteen minutes until his arrival. She rushed up the stairs and into her front door. The framed picture of her husband and stepson was already face-down, so she left it that way.
She rinsed off in the shower, deciding to let her worries over the fake corporations she discovered that day to run down the shower drain with the water. She stepped out and smoothed heavy perfumed lotion over every inch of her body. Hopefully, he’d be close enough to her skin to notice.
Just dinner, though. Right?
She smiled to herself as she flipped through the dresses in her closet. Something sexy, but not cheap.
Classy. Something that hinted at her curves without shoving them into public view. Something that will remind Dmitri what lies underneath, to let him know it was all for him.
But it was more than amazing sex, even though it couldn’t be. What that is, she wasn’t willing to even go there yet.
She was almost at the back of her closet when her fingers landed on a little black dress, and it was perfect. Simple A-line with an asymmetrical hem and a unique, deep, square neckline. She paired it with black lace underwear and a push-up bra. She tied it all together with strappy stilettos, free-flowing hair, and light make-up.
She grabbed her beaded bag. She didn’t pause to look in the mirror, because she already knew what she’d see: too bright cheeks and wild eyes.
She was not ready to face herself right now.
Chapter 9
Her doorbell rang. Sophia flicked off her living room light. She paused by the front door to pick up the keys she’d left on the little table.
Her fingers grazed across the picture, so she flipped it back up: her dead husband and stepson, with their matching sparkly brown eyes and dimples.
Damn.
Her heart was heavy in her chest again. The pain made her bend over. She pressed her hand against the wall and took deep breaths.
In. Out. In. Out.
Just breathe.
The memories flooded back, unbidden and unwanted.
They’d been on their way back from an art festival downtown. She didn’t remember much from the accident, just the screeching brakes, the world spinning around her, and the crashing of glass.
Then it was silent. So silent she could hear the dangling shards of glass as they’d fallen off the windshield and the hiss of the airbag as it slowly deflated in front of her. Her lungs retched up powder and dust.
Then she’d realized she was the only one coughing. She’d screamed when she saw Josh slumped over on the passenger side, his head and neck at unnatural angle, blood leaking out of his ears. She’d frantically twisted in her seat to try to see Logan in the backseat. She’d screamed and fought to get out of her twisted seatbelt and damaged door when saw the back of the car had been torn off and Logan was nowhere to be seen.
Her screams filled the air as she screamed his name, but there had been no answer.
Ding dong. Her dell boor rang again, followed by four steady knocks. “Sophia?” he said through the door.
She lifted her shaking hand off the wall. Wetness dropped from her face and rolled down her chest. Damn, damn, damn.
She forced herself to come back to the present. The darkness of the flashback refused to surrender her to the light.
She cleared her now swollen throat. “Just a second!” she called in a sing song voice, but it came out strangled. She ran in her stilettos to the powder room just off the kitchen. Her mirror confirmed she’d smeared some mascara with her tears. Water proof, my ass.
She ripped of a couple squares of toilet paper and dabbed at the black marks under eyes. She was still a little puffy, but it would have to do.
She ran back to the front door and pulled it open.
Dmitri filled up the frame and then some. He’d package his well-muscled body in a black suit with a black shirt and tie. Dark glasses shaded his eyes, even though the summer sun was giving off her last blast of orange and red.
“Come in,” she breathed.
He did, ducking slightly to fit under the door frame. She stepped back to give him some room.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she said. “Let me just use the restroom, then I’ll be ready.” She stepped back and then pivoted on her heels to turn away.
“Wait,” he said in Russian. He put his fingers on her arm.
She paused.
“Turn around, please,” he said.
She did. He took off his glasses and put his finger under her chin, gently raising her face and forcing her eyes up to his. “You’ve been crying.”
“I’m fine.” She tilted her head back.
He lowered his hand. “I know. That was not my inquiry.” He folded his glasses and then hung them on the front of his shirt. “Sophia, I…” He rubbed his cheek. “I understand if you do not wish to continue spending time in my company. If I have made you upset with my actions, then I extend my deepest apologies.” He unfolded his glasses and put them back on. “Goodbye.”
She grabbed his hand. “Where the hell are you going?”
“What?” he said. He pushed his glasses on top of his head.
She smiled, and it was a real one she felt all the way to her insides. “I said, ‘where the hell are you going?’ I’m hungry and you promised me dinner.”
One side of his mouth tugged into the beginnings of a grin. “You want me to stay? I assumed you—”
She grabbed his other hand and then pulled him closer to her. He stepped willingly until they were standing chest to chest. “Then I suggest you not make assumptions about me, Dmitri.”
“I will not make that mistake again.” He had a full, bright smile on his face. He traced his finger softly down her check. “Let’s go before I rip off your dress and make love to you.”
She pushed him back, smiling as she stepped away. “If I were to allow you—you’re making assumptions again. What’s the rush?” She tossed over her shoulder as she made her way back to the bathroom. Lightness filled her heart, almost crowding out the sorrow that had just overwhelmed her.
“I do not want to miss our flight.”
She stuck her head out of the open bathroom door. “Sorry, did you just say ‘flight’?”
“I did.” He paced over to the shelf in her living room and began nonchalantly running his fingers over the books she had stored there.
“I thought we were going to dinner?” She stepped out of the bathroom, head cocked to the side. He flipped through her tall bookcase, his large hands making all of her books look like miniatures.
“We are, in New Orleans, in the French Quarter.”
Her hands floated up to her face. “Really?”
He turned to her, a big wide smile on his face. It made him look so…normal. “Yes, if you hurry.”
She clapped her hands together and then pushed the bathroom door shut. She pulled out her compact and made quick work of dabbing powder underneath her eyes.
She came back out. He’d moved back to her front entryway and was kneading her forgotten, dropped keys, eyes glued to the picture of Josh and Logan.
He looked at her, then back at the picture. He didn’t comment, but held out her keys. “You dropped these,” he said.
“Thanks.” She shoved them in her clutch. “I’m ready, now.”
“Are you?” His green eyes bored into her.
“Let’s go.” She dropped his gaze.
He looked at the picture one more time and then pulled the door open. They both stepped out into the still-hot Houston evening air. He leaned against the door frame while she locked her door.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“As do you,” she answered.
That made him smile.
She turned around to see a black limo waiting for them, engine running. A man in black slacks jumped out the driver’s seat, ran to their side of the car, and opened the door.
“Please.” Dmitri guided her in first.
She crawled in with her knees pressed together. It was hard to get in and out of a limo in a ladylike fashion, but she did her best. He got in right behind her, ducking low to avoid hitting his head on the door frame.
They settled into the black seats, and she rested her hand on the buttery soft leather. He scooted very close to her, leaving the rest of the space noticeably empty. The chauffer shut the door. Soon thereafter, the car rolled into motion.
“This is lovely. Yours?” she said.
He tipped his head up to look at the empty space around them. “I’m glad you like it.”
She bit her lower lip. He’d avoided answering her questions, as usual. She decided not to
press it. “Well, thank you for this lovely ride, but it’s very unnecessary.”
He slung his arm around her, pushing his face into her neck. “It’s very, very necessary that you are pleased with me.” His hot breath on her neck pushed her body into full on heat-wave that started at the tips of her toes all the way up to the crown of her head.
She snuggled into him, smelling his delicious cologne and the clean, soapy scent of his skin. He tightened his grip around her and rested his chin on her head.
He was comforting her, and she let him. Peace settled over her chest. She battled it back at first as the bells rung in her head, reminding her that he was bad, a criminal, and she couldn’t do this, but after a few minutes, they quieted and left her alone to enjoy a moment of joy.
She finally pulled away, leaving her arm entwined with his. He patted her leg and then opened the mini bar towards the middle of the seat they were on. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll have something with dinner.”
He said nothing, but closed the mini bar.
She fiddled with the hem of her dress, pulling it down to her knees. The limo had shrunk around them. They were alone, and they weren’t having sex. They would have to talk. She glanced up at him, but he was watching her.
“Do I make you nervous?” His eyes flicked down to her bare legs and rested on her hands twisting her hem.
“No.” She unfolded her hands and rested them on her lap. “Yes,” she said. She glanced up at him, pushing a nervous smile on her face. “Maybe a little.”
She swallowed at her own admission. She was in a car, headed to an airport with an international gun-runner. The reality of the situation pushed in around the fuzzy bubble she’d created around herself. Not safe. Definitely not safe.
His smile slipped a little. “I will not hurt you. Ever. Nor would I have, ever.”
“I know that. I do.” She scooted closer to him, eager to reassure him. What the fuck am I doing?
He reached out his hand, slowly entwining it with her fingers. Fireworks erupted between them, sending jolts down her body.
“You are so beautiful, Sophia. And so smart.”