18. Kat

Chapter 18

Kat

Nik leads me down a dim hallway, his hand gripping mine firmly. Closed doors line the walls, and I hear faint voices behind some—likely his men. At the corridor’s end, he pulls me through a door slightly ajar, nudging it open.

We step into a large corner office, empty except for us. He lets go of my hand and quietly closes the door. I take in the room, surprised by its coziness. For an office that could swallow half my apartment, it feels… homey.

A massive mahogany desk anchors the space, surrounded by rich bookshelves packed with leather-bound books and framed photos. A plush antique rug softens the floor, and a leather couch, two armchairs, and a large coffee table create a welcoming seating area beneath the muted glow from the wall sconces. The heavy velvet blinds block most of the daylight, lending the room a private, almost secretive feel.

I’m not sure what I expected his office would look like, but this comfortable, lived-in room wasn’t it. This space reflects Nik in small, unexpected ways. Papers are strewn across every flat surface available; half-empty coffee mugs and whiskey glasses sit scattered around the room. A worn, green sweatshirt slouches on an armchair, while a framed sports jersey hangs on the wall. His face appears in the photos around the room.

As a professional burglar, I’m used to making myself at home in strange places, but something about this room feels too personal, almost like I’m stepping into his mind. It makes me feel like I’m intruding—almost as if I’m stepping into his mind and getting a sense who he really is. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it, or about the fact that he invited me here himself.

It’s the perfect spot to advance my plans for his seduction, but something about this place gives me pause. Just like last night at dinner, here, he looks almost human. I almost forget he’s one and the same with the bratva ’s pakhan —and the tall, dark, and handsome god who ravished me at the gala. Almost. I have no qualms about deceiving the larger-than-life man of my dirty dreams, but this mortal man in front of me is a different story altogether.

“Here,” Nik says, holding out a manila envelope.

“What is it?” I ask, opening it.

“Stuff you’ll need. Let me know if I missed anything, and I’ll take care of it.”

The first thing I pull out is a black American Express. I gasp, nearly dropping it.

“This is a credit card,” I state for mysterious reasons.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, preoccupied with the TV remote.

“It’s a black AmEx. With my name on it.” I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that this man has willingly given me a no-limit credit card.

He nods, not looking up. “It’s for any expenses you may have when I’m not with you. There should be more in there. I gave Dmitri a list.”

More? What else could I possibly need? I pull out a car key next, a shiny “B” emblem gleaming on it. I gasp. “You’re giving me a Bentley?”

“Lending it,” he corrects, almost as an afterthought. As if he’s in the business of lending practical strangers luxury vehicles every day. For all I know, he might very well be. “It’s in the garage. I’ll show you how to access it later.”

I’m already fantasizing about driving my new wheels around town with this card in hand, when Nik’s voice breaks in again.

“You probably won’t need it much. I’d prefer you let me or one of my men drive you.”

I’m tempted to protest, but I decide to let this one slide so he doesn’t get any ideas about taking my new credit card away. Instead, I just smile sweetly. “I’ll take that under advisement, boss.”

He shoots me a look before returning his attention to the TV.

Reaching into the envelope, I pull out a stack of papers. I skim over them, curious about what else he’s given me.

“It’s your account information,” he says, suddenly close. I hadn’t noticed he’d closed the distance between us.

“My account?” I ask, taken aback.

He smirks. “Did you think I wouldn’t pay you for your services?”

"Well, you kept reminding me—over and over—how lucky I am that you're sparing my life. I figured that was my generous ‘compensation’."

“Well,” he quips, reaching for the papers, “if you don’t want the money…”

I smack his hand away. “No returns, refunds, or takesies-backsies. I’ll accept your humble offering. But remind me to thank Dmitri for putting this package together.”

Nik scoffs. “Keep talking, and I’ll change my mind. Now come here. I want to show you something.”

He guides me to the couch area, and I tuck the papers safely back into the envelope as I follow him, taking no chances.

He motions for me to sit, and I sink into the leather, eyeing the paused surveillance footage on the TV screen. He settles beside me, close enough that I feel his warmth.

“What am I looking at?” I ask.

“Can’t you tell? This is the surviving footage from the night of the gala,” he replies, propping his feet up on the coffee table. I feel like I’m sitting in the lion’s den, yet somehow the scene feels almost… comfortable, intimate even. Nik seems relaxed, completely in his element, and oddly enough, that makes me relax. I breathe out, tension slipping away.

“Oh, I see it now. Are those the museum gardens? What about the footage from inside?” I ask, trying to shift my brain into work mode. I do this everyday. This is a surveillance feed. This is my bread and butter. I’m in my element. I can do this.

“We haven’t been able to recover any of it so far. Apparently, someone was messing with the feed that night, jamming the signal with this clever little electronic device. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you, Kat?”

“We haven’t recovered that yet. Apparently, someone was jamming the feed with a clever little device.” He turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Kat?”

He aims for an intimidating glare, but it only makes him look infuriatingly attractive.

“Oh, my bad. Oops, I guess.”

He sighs. “Oops, indeed.”

“I could ask A.J. to take a look—the SBU is her invention. Maybe she can work some magic.”

A brief flicker of surprise crosses his face. Obviously, he didn’t expect me to offer A.J.’s help. “SBU?” he asks after a while.

“That’s what she calls it. The Security Bypass Unit,” I reply with a grin.

"Cute. Appreciate the offer—I’ll keep it in mind."

I shrug. “You’re welcome.”

He’s lost in thought, eyes on the footage. Just as I’m about to break the silence, he speaks first.

“I meant to tell you earlier, but you distracted me,” he says, his eyes glinting with amusement. “As much as I enjoy watching you scurry around stealing my clothes, I’m sorry you don’t have anything to wear—or any shoes. A personal shopper will be by later to help you pick out a new wardrobe. Also?—”

“A new wardrobe?” I interrupt. It’s like he’s speaking to my heart.

Nik smirks, his eyes sparking with amusement as he glances my way. “You’ll need to look the part for what I have in mind.”