“Being homeless for three days?”
“Right, that too.”
I stare at him, aghast at just how easily he let that go.
“You could’ve fucking helped,” I spit out, unable to hold it back any longer.
He lived a pampered life, an easy life, all because his mom had problems with me. I don’t even know what I did. Sometimes I wonder if it was just a Snow White complex where she saw too much of my mother in me, but I doubt I’d ever get an answer.
“I could have,” he agrees. “But I didn’t. And now look at you. Banging, and let me guess, a bit more rebellious than you used to be.”
He leans in, and I can smell the mintiness of his breath wash over me.
“Isn’t that why you called? Finally decided you wanted me to stick it to you? Get back at mommy dearest?”
His hand finds my leg again and his fingers snake up along the inner seam of my thighs, and I’d have to be a saint not to feel anything. I beg my body not to give in to that sensation of pleasure, that cruel teasing to his voice, but I can’t resist it totally. Despite my anger and humiliation, he knows exactly what to say to turn me to butter.
“Fuck off,” I say, but my voice is breathy and light, and he doesn’t stop. We’re in the middle of a crowded coffee shop in the middle of the day and he’s groping me under the table.
And the worst part is how much I like it.
More accurately, how much my body likes it.
“I like it when you pretend you’re mad,” he growls, the pads of his fingers imprinting upon the fleshy part of my thighs. “You’re so fucking hot when you act like you don’t want this.”
And then he pulls away, and from the smug expression on his face, I know I look as disappointed as I feel.
My breath has been stolen, and my nerves are frayed.
I just want to leave. Take off and ignore everything Rebecca’s offered.
But it’s Dimitri’s offer that keeps me in my seat.
“It’s not going to be like that,” I say, without conviction. “I just want us to have a part in each other’s life.”
His grin grows and I wonder how he possibly turned my words into something dirty.
“Stop it,” I insist. “I just... I was hoping maybe you could hook me up with a job or something, so we have an excuse to be around each other and reconnect.”
I hope that sounds natural, though his surprised expression doesn’t fill me with confidence.
“A job? That’s what this is about?”
He sounds disappointed, and he leans in, his eyes narrowing.
“You know if you ever really needed money, Sarah, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat. Your stupid pride always got in the way, but you don’t have to work for it.”
"I'm not some beggar, Dimitri," I spit back with more acid to my tone than I expect. But it's true. I'm not going to beg for handouts when I'm able and willing to work for it.
He holds his hands up defensively.
"Whoa, Sarah, I never said you were. But we're still family."
I don't know why his words bug me so much, but they do. For two years, we weren't family. For two years we were less than strangers, and now that he's finally back in my life, he's acting like that didn't happen? As if he's always been generous and not more than a little self-involved?
He knows he's not going to win, and he simply nods his head.
"Fine, fine. So what do you do? Still taking those weird photos?"
"They're not weird, Dimitri. They're real life."
"Sure, if that's what you want to call spying on people and taking their picture."
His smile is devious, and I know just as well as he does the time he's talking about. He was in the bath house, getting changed one day, and I snuck up to my room, leaning out my window with my camera to get a better view of him. His hard, glorious body on shameless display, thinking no one was home.
That was the day things shifted between us and his teasing ramped way up. Not even a month later, and I was kicked out.
At least we never did anything I really regretted. It isn't like I lost my virginity to him. Hell, I haven't lost that to anyone. Not for moral reasons, just, and I know this is cheesy, I'm waiting for the right person.
"That was one time, Dimitri."
"Sure, sweetheart, I'm sure it was the only time you caught me in the buff, but it wasn't the only time you wanted to." He licks his lower lip, his eyes narrowing at me deviously. "Tell me it's not true, and I'll hire you right now."
I stare at him, incredulous, and swallow hard. If there's one thing I'm not good at, it's lying. Especially to him. He's seen me lie about so many stupid things — and caught me so easily — he knows all my tells.
"It's not true," I say, trying to sound haughty and confident, but I'm aware of the fact that I fluttered my eyelashes too long, and he looks like he's just won a massive prize.
"I knew it," he growls, but he doesn't reach for my leg. He just lets the awkward silence grow between us until I have to look away.
"Listen, I'm a bookkeeper. I don't have school for it, but I have experience, and I'm really good. Let me help you, let me get more experience so I have something impressive on my resume. You can't get anywhere without school, and I can't get a loan since your mom is so filthy rich."
"Mm, last I heard, you liked things filthy."
"Dimitri, stop," I plead. "This is serious."
He shrugs his heavy shoulders, his shirt straining against his muscles.
"Sarah, I'm not going to leave you down and out when you ask for help. The second you called, you were going to get what you wanted. I just think you want something else more than an accounting position."
My heart leaps and for a second I wonder if he knows that I'm spying on him for Rebecca, but when that hard hand reaches to my leg, his finger teasingly running down the outside of my calf, I know he's in the dark. He just thinks I want sex.
And maybe I do.
It's so hard being a young woman and still being a virgin, and with every passing year it seems more and more significant that I still have it, and more intimidating on how to lose it. I guess most figure it out in college, but there's not a lot of opportunities when I work seventy-hours a week to barely scrape by.
"We're siblings, Dimitri. Maybe not by birth, but by chance."
That doesn't stop him, not even for a moment.
"All of the best things feel wrong the first time, Sarah. I don't hold it against you for getting scared."
"I wasn't scared!" I'm lying again.
"Don't think I forgot how wet you were against my hand, Sarah. Don't you forget how sweetly you moaned as I kissed your body, and how much you were begging for it before you suddenly remembered the time. You were eighteen, it's not like you had a curfew. And it was summer, no school."
I blush at the reminder, the sight of him kissing between my thighs forever burned into my memory.
"Just admit that you got off and then got scared, and we have a deal."
He's so mean!
I stare at him, swallowing as I nod.
"I was scared."
He smiles.
"Then we have a deal?" I ask, my voice suddenly foreign to me, so much softer and without much else but heated desire.
"I already said you got whatever you wanted just for asking, Sarah. Hearing you say you were scared was the icing on the cake," he says as he stands up.
He walks beside me, reaching down and touching his fingers along my jaw, making me look at him once more.
"You start tomorrow. Come meet me at my office," he says as he places his business card down on the table with his other hand. "You look much more daring today than when I last saw you," he muses before finally taking off, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
3
Already my day is off to an epic start. Firstly, it's pouring. The first real rain — not just drizzle — that we've had in weeks, and the city is more humid than ever, so my blouse is already sticking to me.
&
nbsp; Secondly, a car splashed me as I was waiting for the bus.
And now?
"Mr. Brokov is not to be disturbed." The brown haired woman is staring daggers at me like I just kicked her puppy rather than simply asked to see Dimitri. She apparently takes issue with me using his first name, too, what with the emphasis on his last name.
I'm mildly surprised he went back to Rebecca's maiden name, given how she still has my father's — and my — last name. Fairfax.
"Well, it's my first day," I protest, a heavy box under my arm. I don't know what I'm going to do, not really, but I wanted to come prepared. My books, and my camera, both weigh a ton, and these heels are already killing my feet. Why did I decide that I wanted to look my best?
Why did I care so much about impressing him?
Because you have to, I remind myself, but I know it's a lie. I'm past doing things just because I have to, or just because Rebecca dangles a carrot in front of my face.
This is about me and Dimitri, and about finding out why and how he left me so casually.
The rest is just... extra.
"I know," the brunette behind the reception desk says, but her tone says she doesn't care.
"Where am I to sit?"
She ignores me, and my cheeks begin to burn. My skirt is too tight, my stockings are itchy as hell, my heels are too high, my blouse is stuck to my chest, and I feel like a hot mess.
And I'm two seconds away from throwing my box at her head when Dimitri walks in the door and it's like all the breath is just stolen from my lungs.
I've never seen him look like this. It's not just business attire, oh no. It's that the suit clings to his body, accentuating his shoulders and arms, making him seem even more filled out. His tattoos hidden away, his hair brushed and styled, and his brown eyes warm as they see me.
"Sarah," he says as he walks to me, touching his hand on my lower back and sending a shiver through me. I know it's silly but that touch seems so... significant. I can't imagine him touching his other employees in such an intimate and familiar way.
"Has Joyce seen to your paperwork yet?"
I assume that he's talking about the secretary, and I shake my head no, and she shrinks behind the desk. Great, day one and I'm already making enemies, and I have no idea what I even did to her.
"Joyce, get Sarah set up in the system right away." His tone is hard and borderline threatening. "I'll show her to her desk myself," he says and doesn't spare her another glance.
The office isn't huge, but it's still a lot to take in. I guess around fifty people must work here, most in the cubicles that litter the inner office. I expect to be led to one of the empty ones I note, but he walks beyond all of those to a door that proudly proclaims: Mr. Dimitri Brokov, C.E.O..
He takes me to the smaller office just off his, pushing open the door. I almost have this feeling that it used to be for his personal secretary or something, as there's a door linking my new office right to his, but he's beaming down at me like it's a secret I'm in on.
That scares me, I'm not going to lie. I suddenly feel like it's all too fast, too soon, and way too close for comfort. Especially if I really am going to backstab him.
And why shouldn't I? He doesn't seem apologetic in the slightest at how much he hurt me. He hasn't apologized, hasn't even pretended like he's done anything wrong, and it's eating me up inside.
I feel that well of anger begin to bubble up and I have to suppress it.
"Nice view, huh?" he asks casually, and truthfully I hadn't noticed, but he's right. It's overlooking a park, and even though we're up on the fourteenth floor, I can still hear some of the birds chirping through the glass. Ever so faintly.
"Yea, it's fine," I say, and he only looks amused at how unimpressed I'm acting. He knows what type of shitty places I've been living and working in, surely, but he lets me go with it.
"I'm just on the other side of that door, Sarah. Anytime I'm not in meetings, at least. So if you ever need help..."
I'm more aware now that his hand is still on my back, and beginning to trail lower, and all that anger dissipates like smoke and is replaced with a heat of a different kind.
We're in public, in our workplace, for heaven's sake! So why does that thought arouse me rather than repulse me? Is this really the type of reputation I want? That I'm only getting the job because of who I am to the boss?
The thought occurs to me, unwanted. They might not even know you’re siblings. Different last names, different accents...
Another shiver travels my spine and I push into the office, plunking the heavy box down on my desk.
"Thanks, Mr. Brokov," I say, and when I turn to face him again, he has an excited and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I don't even want to know what put it there. I smooth out the front of my blouse and look at him, trying to make my voice stop trembling, "If you could just have someone brief me on the status of your books..."
"After how Joyce treated you back there, I doubt she's going to tell you anything accurate," he grins, and it falls into place.
Did I just steal her job?
No wonder she hates me already...
"I see," I say with a frown, licking my lips thoughtfully.
He motions his head towards the computer.
"The user login information is on the notepad, and all the programs you need are installed. The hardcopies are all kept in the filing cabinet in the back corner of my office, the keys are on your desk. Only you and I have copies, so don't lose them."
He walks in, and suddenly the office feels so much smaller and more claustrophobic, his body taking up so much space. His heat sucking up all my air.
It was one thing to see him rugged and casual at coffee, but when he's dressed like this, he looks stronger. Powerful. Like he can say anything and I'd do it, and that's a scary feeling for someone trying to resist his charms — and forget what we came so close to doing.
"If you need me," he growls, his eyes burning into mine, "you know where to find me."
And then he disappears through the door leading to his office, leaving my panties soaked, and my heart absolutely stopped.
4
It's only been a week. I have to keep reminding myself of that, because honestly, I'm getting nowhere. His books are clean, though I remember what Rebecca said about him having another set. It makes sense if he's doing something shady, he'll need a clean set of books for the auditors.
Though I honestly have no idea what type of business he can be in. His company seems to be doing really well, year over year growth, and no real shady stuff. His workers seem mostly content and well paid, and there's nothing that sets off any red flags.
Though I know Dimitri is smart. Much smarter than most people give him credit for.
But what angle is he working at? And what is Rebecca hoping I'll find?
I'm taken from my thoughts by the sound of clapping and cheering, and I rise from my desk, peeking out at the cubicles.
It isn't just Joyce that's unhappy with me, I’ve quickly found. Everyone acts like I'm invisible, and some part of me is hurt, but another hopes it's for the better. After all, I'm not going to be here long. Six months of work, and then I'm half a million richer, I get my revenge on Dimitri, and I can do whatever I want.
Unfortunately, when I see Dimitri standing on a desk, belting out a happy birthday song to one of the employees, I'm reminded what I really want. I can't help but smile, even as I disappear back into my office and shut the door.
If they don't want me to take part in their celebrations, then I have better things to do.
Like sneak into Dimitri's office and see if he has anything else hidden that I haven't yet found.
Every other time I've come in, he's either been in the office, or the door has been open. But this time I noticed he's actually shut his door, and I know he's going to be out there for a few minutes at least. He has to eat cake if he wants to be the type of boss he projects himself to be, right?
I slip into his office, the daylig
ht illuminating his desk just off to the side. The filing cabinet I'm familiar with is in the nearest corner of the room, opposite his desk, but there's another cabinet near the door I haven't had a chance to peek into.
There's also a shelf, though I can't imagine anything interesting being on that.
I move to the cabinet, trying to open one of the drawers, only to find it locked.
I frown, though it isn't unexpected. Anything that's going to be shady is, at the very least, going to be under lock and key.
I take out my key-ring, curious, and try with each key though none slip in. Unfortunately for my big brother, though, I learned a few things when I was desperate and scrounging for food. I pull out a bobby-pin from the side of my platinum hair, my bang instantly falling into my eyes as I remove the bits of plastic on the edges.
I move the makeshift lock-pick into the keyhole and carefully begin to shift it. I haven't picked a lock in a year or more, but all it takes is nerves of steel, and when I'm alone with no one else around? Honestly, I feel invincible. Powerful.
It's always other people's presence that brings me back to reality.
Though when I tug the cabinet and find it glides easily open, I wonder why I bother putting so much faith in their opinions anyways. I smile proudly at myself, but when I see the clutter of files, my smile is stolen.
How am I going to find anything in this mess? There are folders that are halfway open, others thrown on top of each other, and it looks like chaos. Loose paper litters everything, and I let out a sigh.
All this work picking a lock and this is what I find?
I reach in, flicking through some of the pages when I can hear a knock on my door.
"Crap," I curse, grabbing a few pieces of paper before sliding the drawer shut and going over towards the filing cabinet that contains my work. Though then there's simply silence. Nothing.
Maybe it wasn't him after all?
I start heading back to the previous cabinet when I hear a soft vibration coming from his desk. I stop, and the sound repeats, so I walk towards it. I don't know what I'm expecting to find, and it feels weird being in his personal space without him near.
Saved by the Outlaw: A Bad Boy Romance Page 24