17. Kat
17
Nik leads me down a darkened hallway without letting go of my hand.
We walk past closed doors to my left and right, and I hear muffled voices here and there—his men, I assume.
At the end of the long corridor, a door is slightly ajar. Nik pulls me towards it and pushes it open with his free hand.
We enter a large corner office. Nobody is in it but us. Nik lets go of my hand, quietly closing the door behind me. Curious, I glance around the room, surprised to realize it is quite cozy—or at least as cozy as an office big enough to fit half of my apartment inside can be.
The room is beautifully furnished with a massive mahogany desk and numerous built-in mahogany bookshelves. Countless leather-bound books and a few framed photographs populate the shelves.
A plush, oversized antique rug stretches over the floors. At the furthest corner from the door, there is a brown leather couch in front of a large, wall-mounted TV. Next to it sit two matching armchairs, with a large coffee table in the middle.
Intricate wall sconces invitingly illuminate Nik's office. Their warm glow makes up for the room's lack of natural light. Only a few rays of sunshine make it through the dark velvet blinds he has pulled down to cover the wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling windows.
I'm not sure what I pictured his office would look like, but this cozy, comfortable, lived-in room isn't it.
Besides the expensive furnishings, his office also sports little bits and pieces that shine a light on the man that occupies it. Multiple sheets of paper are haphazardly spread out over every flat surface available. I count at least five coffee mugs left around the room, plus a couple of half-empty whiskey glasses.
I'm surprised to see several personal objects as well. A soft-looking, slightly worn-out Kelly Green sweatshirt is crumpled on one of the armchairs. He has a framed sports jersey on the wall by his desk. I'm too far away to fully see the photographs all over the room, but he seems to be in many of them.
As a professional burglar, I'm used to making myself at home in the most unusual, unfamiliar places. But this room is so personal—so Nik—that I almost feel like I'm intruding. It's a strange thought, made even stranger by the realization that by being here I'm stepping into his mind in a way and getting a sense of what makes him who he 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. Yet, something about being in here with him gives me pause. Just like last night at dinner, this setting makes him look almost human. It's almost easy to forget the man before me is one and the same with the Russian bratva's pakhan—and the tall, dark, and handsome god who ravished me at the gala.
Unthinkably, seeing Nik in his natural habitat makes me hesitate about working him. For once, he's not the larger-than-life man of my dirty dreams—he's just a man. A dangerously hot one, but a human male, nonetheless. I have no qualms about deceiving Nik's devilish don persona, but this mortal man before me is a different story altogether.
"Here," Nik says, handing me a manila envelope.
"What is it?" I ask as I open it.
"Some stuff I think you'll need. If there is anything I missed, let me know, and I'll make sure you get it."
The first thing I fish out of the package is a black American Express. With a loud gasp, I almost drop the entire thing.
I glance at Nik, but he has moved on already. He's distracted with the TV, fussing with the remote.
"This is a credit card," I state for mysterious reasons.
"Uh-huh," he say, paying me no mind, frowning at the screen.
"It's a black AmEx. With my name on it." I can't wrap my mind around the fact that this man has given me a no-limit credit card out of his own free will.
"I know. 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 the heaviest object inside the envelope. It's a car key with a beautiful, shiny three-point star. I gasp. "You're giving me a Mercedes?"
"Lending it. It's in the garage. I'll show you how to access it later," he says, 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.
I'm still daydreaming about all the places I'll drive it to so I can use my shiny new card when Nik starts speaking to me again.
"You will probably not have much use for it." He shrugs. "I'd rather you let me or one of my men take you wherever you need to go."
My first instinct is to protest against his remarkably controlling request, but thinking twice about it, I decide to let this one slide so he doesn't get any ideas about taking my new credit card away.
"I'll take that under advisement, boss," I say instead with a smile. He shoots me an unamused look before turning his attention back to the TV again.
The next object I take out of the envelope is a stack of papers. I leaf through it, skimming through the documents verbiage, curious about what other little treats Nik has in store for me.
"It's your account information." His voice sounds closer than I expect. I'm so distracted by the papers that I didn't notice he has closed the distance between us.
"My account?" I ask, dumbfounded.
He smirks at me. "You didn't think I wouldn't pay you for your services, did you?"
"Well, you did lord over me that you would be sparring my life for displacing your little bauble. Over and over again, if I may add. I assumed that was my compensation."
"Hey, if you don't want the money, I'm happy to take it off your hands," he quips, reaching for the papers.
I slap his hand away.
"Nope. No returns, refunds, or takesies-backsies. I'll gladly accept your humble offering. You said Dmitri put the package together? Remind me to thank him properly when I see him next." I wink at him.
Nik scoffs. "You should stop talking before I change my mind. Now come here. I want to show you something." He leads me back to the couch area where the TV he's been fussing about is located.
Folding the papers, I shove them back in the envelope before following him. I'm not taking any chances.
Nik motions for me to sit down on the leather couch. I oblige him, glancing at the screen with curiosity. What seems to be a paused surveillance feed is featured on it. He grabs the remote and sits down on the couch next to me.
"What am I looking at?" I ask.
"Can't you tell? This is the surviving footage from the night of the gala," he says, letting his weight sink on the soft leather of the sofa. We are close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.
I study him as he props his feet up on the coffee table in front of us. He is so comfortable and in his element that I feel like I'm sitting in the lion's very own den. It's a sensation that should be alarming and troubling. Instead, I'm shockingly content, if not a little excited. For some reason, his relaxed state creates an atmosphere of comfort and—dare I say it—intimacy between us.
More puzzling still is the realization that seeing him so at ease makes me relax, too. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I had been holding this entire time. Somehow, Nik's belief that there is nothing worth worrying about right now is all the guarantee my body and mind need to relax.
It's not a thought I want to—or can afford to—dwell on and it's not a feeling I'm even sure he shares.
I focus on the task at hand, instead. I don't have the luxury of falling back under his spell.
"Oh, I see it now. Are those the gardens outside the museum? What about the footage from inside?" I ask, trying to shift my brain into work mode. 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?"
He glares at me, an eyebrow raised. I know he means to look menacing and forbidding, but his intended effect is ruined because he looks absolutely sexy. There's nothing I can do but resist the urge to climb on his lap to kiss that mean look off his beautiful face until he's nothing but smiles for me.
Instead, I say, "Oh, my bad. Oops, I guess."
"Oops, indeed," he says with a sigh.
"I could ask A.J. if there is anything she can do to salvage the feed. The SBU is her invention. She could try to work her magic."
Nik's expression reveals he didn't expect me to offer A.J.'s help.
"SBU?" he asks after a second.
"That's what she calls it. The Security Bypass Unit."
"Cute," he says, almost dryly. "Thanks for the offer. I'll keep it in mind."
I shrug. "You're welcome."
Nik and I watch the footage in silence. He's deep in thought. I try to think of something to say, but he speaks again before I can come up with anything.
"I meant to tell you something earlier, but you sidetracked me," he says, a teasing glint in his brown eyes. "I'm sorry you didn't have a clean change of clothes this morning. Or shoes. A personal shopper will be around later today to address that. She'll bring all you need to choose a new wardrobe. Also?—"
I interrupt him. It's like he's speaking to my heart. "A new wardrobe?"
Nik smirks, glancing at me with amusement. "You'll need to look the part for what I have in mind."