5. Kat

Chapter 5

Kat

It’s true what they say—bad boys do it better. And Nikolai? He’s a bad, bad boy.

It took me a moment to realize it. To be fair, I don’t typically pick up men during a job. This whole situation is way outside my comfort zone.

Sure, my recent involuntary celibacy didn’t help my judgment, either. And it certainly didn’t help that Nikolai blindsided me with those devastating looks. I’ve always been a sucker for tall, dark-haired men who look absolutely devastating in bespoken tuxedos.

But I knew he was trouble—maybe not right away, but definitely by the time I was bold enough to undress for him. His intense pull should’ve been my first clue. I’ve always struggled to resist handsome men up to no good.

Even now, I know I won’t regret tonight. I gave up feeling guilty about chasing pleasure a long time ago—and he pleasured me like no other before.

Living by my own rules, answering only to myself, has been my mantra since I understood there was no other way to live.

But lately, I’ve been anything but free. This stronzo his schemes have kept me from living fully, but soon, he’ll pay for it—and for putting my friend in danger. A.J. and I are close to having everything we need to strike back, and with the Flame of Mir, we’ll buy enough time to chase down our latest lead to expose his dark secret.

That’s why I can never see Nikolai again.

Long moments after our shared climax, he pulls out of me, with a discreet sigh I almost don’t catch.

With a sigh of my own, I kick off my shoes and roll my neck, savoring the wave of blissful relaxation that tingles down my spine.

I hear his zipper as he fixes his clothes, then he steadies me by the waist, easing me back onto my feet.

When I turn to face him, the sight of his eyes catches me off guard yet again. Whenever his gaze finds mine, my core muscles tighten. If I were a woman prone to fanciful fits and daydreaming, I might admit to feeling something stir in my chest—something dangerously close to my heart skipping a beat.

But I’m nothing if not practical. More than that, I’m a woman on a mission. Not some romantic fool. Our stolen moment was fun, but it’s time to say goodbye.

He glances at me, his expression somewhere between vulnerable and guarded. Clearing his throat, he reaches into the pocket of his perfectly tailored jacket and pulls out a handkerchief, pressing it into my hand, fingers lingering on my wrist. Then he steps back, sliding his hands into his pockets, breaking our eye contact.

Oh, God. I’m completely naked in front of a fully dressed man—a man who, for all intents and purposes, is a stranger. His eyes trail down my body, and despite his composure, he’s clearly aware of my state of undress.

Fighting the urge to clear my throat, I take a deep breath instead. “Well, then,” I say, patting his chest lightly before slipping past him to find my clothes.

Earlier, when his attention was entirely on my décolleté, I’d had to improvise. I couldn’t risk being caught with the diamond nestled between my breasts, so I decided on an impromptu striptease to distract him.

I expected him to be thrown by my boldness, but he wasn’t phased in the slightest. The way he watched me, completely enraptured as I revealed myself, will stay with me for a long time.

I bend to retrieve my dress, my back to him. He hisses softly, and I can’t help but smile. Good. Our brief time together may be ending, but I’m leaving my mark on him—just as he’s left his on me.

As I pull on my dress, relief fills me when I feel the reassuring weight of the diamond resting against my chest again.

I turn to him and find him standing there, hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral. I don’t mind it—if he doesn’t attempt to stop me from leaving, my life will be much easier.

Our eyes meet again, and his gaze burns like molten lava. He might be skilled at composing his facial features into any expression that pleases him, but his expressive eyes tell a different story.

That funny feeling tickles my chest again, but I push it aside. After all, I’m a practical woman with a purpose.

With a half-smile, I sigh. “Well, Nik, I’ll give it to you. You are a man of your word. This was fun.”

My nonchalant tone catches him off guard. He raises his eyebrows before shaking his head and smirking at me.

The only thing more magnetic than his gaze is the full force of his smile aimed at me.

A practical woman with a purpose. My new mantra.

“I guess I don’t need to ask if it was as good for you as it was for me,” he says, sounding as glib as I did.

I close the distance, stopping just shy of his chest. Our breaths mingle, and the memory of his touch floods my senses.

Woman. Purpose.

He watches me closely, his gaze lingering on my face. He’s trying to keep his cool, but I can tell he’s eager to see my next move. I stretch onto my toes, letting my lips brush his ear. He shivers, and I fight a smile.

“I think we both know I had a blast. And I know you did too. I can still feel it inside me,” I murmur, tugging his earlobe before turning to make my grand exit. No encore tonight.

But Nikolai has other ideas. His arm shoots out, pulling me flush against him.

I grin—so much for his indifference.

He holds me firmly, though there’s no need. I don’t want to escape just yet. Instead, I savor the feel of his hard body pressed against me, his breath brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.

I chuckle. “I guess you’re not so cool and collected after all, are you?”

“Are you toying with me?” he asks through gritted teeth, as if the very notion is absurd.

“Maybe I am. Something tells me you like it,” I reply, punctuating my words with a slow grind of my hips against his hardening cock.

He backs me against the desk. It doesn’t take a genius to understand he wants me to remember what happened on top of it a moment ago .

“I ought to teach you a lesson about messing with the wrong man,” he says, voice low. “I should bend you over this desk again and remind you of what happens to flirty brunettes who like to tease me.”

My body goes soft in his arms. This man might be the death of me…

“Aw, baby. Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He spins me to face him, and I playfully wrap my arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He gives me an exasperated—and slightly dazed—look.

“You think I’m kidding,” he says in disbelief.

“No, no. You’re very serious. I can tell,” I murmur, letting my hand trail down his body to grasp his erection. “Very serious, indeed.”

“That’s it. I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank that plump ass of yours until you show me some respect.”

“Sounds amazing. But I’ll have to take a raincheck on that. It’s nearly midnight, and this Cinderella has to hit the road before her carriage turns into a pumpkin. You know the drill.”

He laughs darkly, the sound sending a thrilling shiver down my spine. “Oh, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh, yes, I am. I didn’t mean to dine and dash, but I really have to go.”

His eyes widen. “ Dine and dash ? You’ve lost your mind if you think you’re just walking out after saying that to my face.”

“No need to be offended. This was some fine, three Michelin stars dining. Trust me—ten out of ten.”

He stares at me as if I’ve just said something so ridiculous that he’s torn between feeling outraged or shocked. “I can’t decide whether to throttle you or fuck you senseless.”

I nod in commiseration. “I often have that effect on men. Or so I’ve been told.”

His expression darkens. Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say.

“Is that why you’re in such a hurry? Do you have another man waiting for you at home?” His voice hardens. “If you’re hungry for more, I’m happy to oblige. No need to leave. As a matter of fact, I’ll have to insist. I don’t share. Ever . So, whatever plans you had with him are officially canceled. Indefinitely. You’re spending the night with me.

Unfortunately for him, that’s the worst thing he could have said. After months at the beck and call of one controlling man, the last thing I need is another who thinks he can claim me so easily.

Nik was the lay of the century, no question. But hell will freeze over before I let another man dictate my life.

If we had more time, I might have let him bend me over and spank me. Or fuck me—maybe both. But just because I might play submissive between the sheets doesn’t mean I’ll submit to him—or anyone else—in any real sense. I’ll always be my own mistress.

If Nik thinks otherwise, I need to get out of here fast.

In the end, it doesn’t even matter, anyway. I need to cut all ties with anything and anyone even remotely related to this party. Any lasting connections could land me in jail—or, even worse, dead.

That is why I push him away, hard enough to catch him off guard.

“Whether I have a man—or a hundred—waiting for me at home is none of your business,” I say, my tone suddenly sharper.

My shift in demeanor throws him off, and he doesn’t move to grab me again

“Maybe not at first,” he says, voice laced with the same tone, “but you made it my business when you begged me to make you come earlier.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” I reply coolly. “Why don’t we agree to part as friends?”

He studies me, his gaze intense as if searching for something in my expression.

Time seems to stand still—until the faint chime of a microphone breaks through the silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the fireworks display will begin in ten minutes,” a voice announces, cheerful and completely oblivious. “Please join us in the main gardens before the clock strikes midnight!”

Fuck . I jerk upright, my heart skipping. “Midnight?” I gasp, my voice sharp with panic. “Shit, I lost track of time.”

I shove him out of the way, my dress still twisted around my hips as I grab my clutch and bolt for the door. Just as my hand touches the handle, it hits me—I’m barefoot. Where the hell are my shoes? My eyes sweep the room, landing on them under the desk.

Before I can make a move, Nik’s right there, fingers curling around my wrist. Then he’s standing between me and my Louboutins, and my shoes are officially out of reach

Four thousand dollars. Gone. Fuck me.

I grit my teeth and twist the handle anyway. “This was fun, but I gotta go!” I throw over my shoulder as I start to pull away.

“Wait,” he says, his voice low and dangerous enough to stop me mid-step. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I can’t stay,” I snap, trying to sound firm while my heart pounds like crazy. “I have to go. Now.”

His dark eyes narrow, his grip tightening just enough to make me hesitate. “Why?” His tone is quiet but sharp. “What’s the rush?”

I hesitate, but there’s no time for explanations. The stronzo is waiting, and he doesn’t do patience. I yank free of Nik's hold, open the door, and step outside.

“Thanks, this was nice!” I call over my shoulder, trying to keep things light even as my pulse races.

He stands in the doorway, staring after me, and for half a second, I think I’ve made it. Then I hear his footsteps, heavy and deliberate, right behind me. He catches my wrist again, spinning me around so fast I nearly trip over my own feet.

“Where the fuck are you going?” he growls, his voice low and razor-sharp. "What are you running from?”

I meet his gaze, putting on my best poker face and yanking my arm free. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. “I’m on a tight schedule.”

I bolt before he can stop me, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Wait!” he calls after me, his voice cutting through the night. “At least tell me your name!”

I don’t stop, don’t even look back. I run until my legs quiver and my lungs burn—until I skid to a stop by my getaway car.

When I see the flat tire, I almost scream. Of course. Of fucking course. For a moment, I just stand there, gasping like a fish out of water, before scanning the valet lot a dozen yards away.

My eyes lock on the prize: a sleek, orange Maserati, its glossy finish practically glowing under the streetlights.

“Bad idea, Kat,” I mutter to myself. “This is how people get arrested.”

Too flashy. Too obvious. But the clock’s ticking, and options are thin.

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I slip into the driver’s seat, hot-wiring it with practiced efficiency. The engine roars to life, a loud, satisfying growl that makes me grin despite the chaos.

“Hey! That’s not yours!” the valet yells, flailing his arms, his voice high-pitched and panicked.

“Yeah, well, finders keepers!” I shout back, throwing the car into gear.

I peel out of the lot, the Maserati slicing through the night as the valet’s protests fade into the distance. I don’t dare look back, but I can practically feel Nik standing there, fuming.