Chapter Two

IT WAS STILL TWENTYminutes before eight, but I already had everything ready for my boss. Financial statements filed on the left, contracts requiring his signature were placed next to his keyboard, and in my hand was his favorite coffee: dark roast Arabica, zero sugar, and 25% almond milk.

I had just come out of his office, intending to wait for him by reception, when I saw the glass doors slide open.

Oh!

I straightened up and pinned a smile on my lips, but it turned out to be a waste of effort as the billionaire simply strode past me like I was as invisible as air.

Day 94, I thought glumly while hurrying after my boss, and Dmitry Adrianov still hates me.

I nearly bumped into his back in my haste, and I could only bite back a cry as a scalding-hot drop of coffee spilled on my hand. Shit. But with the billionaire already turning around, I forced myself to ignore the pain while carefully placing the cup of coffee on the glossy black surface of his oversized desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Adrianov."

The billionaire"s lip only curled in response, and although I knew I should be used to it by now, his rather blatant hostility still stung. I gestured to his coffee once more, hoping against hope that this might win myself some brownie points. "Your coffee, sir."

But he didn"t even glance up this time and simply reached for the coffee as soon as he had folded his six-foot-five frame into the executive chair behind his desk.

What the heck have I gotten myself into?

It had become my favorite question of late, but as with all the other times, no answer came to mind. It was amazing, seriously amazing to work for something like Strakh Inc., and since it was mostly just Dmitry and I in the office, I sometimes imagined ourselves as the real-life versions of Oliver and Felicity, only my Arrow was Russian. Also, I never actually got to see any of the rough action involved in the vigilante justice side of the business. And actually...while Felicity"s boss was never mean to her, my boss...well...

I knew Dmitry had every right to hate my guts if he wanted to, but couldn"t he at least tell me why that was?

It was just so hard, working for a man who seemed to hold you in contempt for no reason. I worked my ass off each day, and the pay was great, yes, but it would really be nice to see him smile, even just once.

I"d never have lasted a week in this place if not for the fact...

Shit.

That was the answer right there, wasn"t it?

The reason why I was still working here was the same reason everyone thought me crazy for sticking around.

Dmitry Adrianov.

My glance drifted towards my boss.

Hot.

He was just so...hot.

Seriously.

The billionaire was still leafing through the financial statements I had prepared, and just like always I couldn"t help but stare, couldn"t help but feel all sorts of tingly as my gaze lingered on his profile.

Bluish-black hair that were always combed back in sleek, shiny waves, eyes a feral shade of gold, and chillingly illustrious features that made me think of Roman emperors of old. He kinda reminded me of that villain in Gladiator, only my boss was a hundred times sexier.

Honestly, if we did time travel to the past, and Dmitry was the master I"d end up with, I"d obey his every command with pleasure. Oh, just the thought of my boss ordering me to do anything naughty...

Siiiiiigh.

The images that fluttered in my mind were decidedly NSFW, and I absently ran my tongue over my lips—-

"Fuck."

Dmitry had chosen that exact moment to glance up, and I found myself frozen with fear, the tip of my tongue still out.

"Fuck."

Two F-bombs in a row were never good, and as expected, the enigmatic billionaire was now glaring at me like I had just admitted to killing chihuahuas for fun. That was also my cue to leave, and I gestured nervously towards the contracts he had yet to sign, saying weakly, "Mr. Diamandis..."

"I"ll get it to him," Dmitry snapped. "Now go."

I was out in a flash, heart racing like I had just dodged a bullet. Even though I was willing to bet my entire life that the billionaire would never raise a hand against me...

What my mind knew was one thing. What my body instinctively felt was another, and my knees instantly turned into jelly the moment I stumbled back into my seat. I rested trembling fingers over my chest, and my heart thumped instantly against it.

Dmitry would never hurt me. Never.

But that didn"t make him any less terrifying.

Dmitry was not evil, and he never would be.

But that didn"t mean I was completely safe.

Dmitry hated me, and that was unlikely to ever change.

But even so...

Idiot, I chided myself as I reached for the mouse and clicked open a new spreadsheet to tackle. Such an idiot, Tahoma Garamond Baskerville. Such! An! Idiot!

MOST PEOPLE PROBABLYimagined my work with Strakh Inc. to be exciting and dangerous, but if that had really been the case, they would have never hired a klutz like me.

In reality, my main job was to crunch numbers forty hours a week, and I was really good at it. Exceptional even, which could be why I had ended up in their radar in the first place.

But as much as I enjoyed working on spreadsheets, there had also been times when I felt that my job was slowly killing me with boredom. It was only when I started working for Strakh Inc. that everything became meaningful, and each spreadsheet became the most glorious hunt for uncovering fraudulent anomalies.

And while my job description might still leave a lot to be desired for people who weren"t big with numbers, perks-wise, however...

My workplace - contrary to my initial fears - was not the claustrophobic underground hideout where I had my job interview. Instead, I got to work Mondays to Fridays in the same swanky building, above ground. Our office was at 34F while my apartment - which I enjoyed rent-free - was at 24F. I even had a company-paid SUV for personal use...plus gas allowance!

A dream job, just like Keagan said, but the perks were only the icing on the cake. What truly made my work worthwhile was the absolute certainty that everything I now did served a higher purpose.

Just last week in fact, I was able to uncover a paper trail leading to a corrupt politician"s secret bank account in the Cayman Islands, and recalling this had me smiling.

Oh, the joy of cracking the supposedly uncrackable—-

"Fuck."

My head jerked up, and I bit back a yelp of surprise at finding Dmitry suddenly standing across my desk. With his height and build, you"d think he"d be lumbering around like, I don"t know, an elephant?

But no.

Instead, he was impossibly stealthy like the jaguar he reminded me of, and I supposed that made sense, since he was the leader of Strakh Inc. and-—

Oh shit, my boss was still glaring at me.

"S-Sorry, sir." I hastily got rid of my smile, thinking that it was what he found so offensive. "Is there anything I can do—-"

A sheaf of papers landed on my desk. "I"ve made a couple of revisions," he said brusquely. "I need it back before lunchtime."

"I"ll get on it right—-" My voice trailed off as Dmitry had already turned around and stalked off.

Wake up and start smelling the shit, T.G.!

WEEK 14 ON THE JOB, and as pathetic as it was to admit, I still hadn"t found a way to wean myself off Dmitry even after months - months! - of being ignored, scowled, and glared at.

Granted, I did get some encouragement from Sasha, who once told me not to take things personally, but...

I bit back a sigh as I remembered what had taken place that day. It was just last week when Dmitry"s younger brother and the other men making up Strakh Inc. had a meeting at the "battle room", a.k.a. the place where the world"s strangest job interview had taken place.

You"d think Dmitry would at least try toning down on the hatred while the others were around, but yeah - didn"t happen. He had still acted as if I were the grossest thing on the planet, with the way his lip had curled every time I entered the room, and the way he had scowled and glared whenever he caught me speaking with any of the other guys.

It was almost as if he was just waiting for me to betray Strakh Inc. so he could have an excuse to pounce and hang me for dear life. And Sasha, seeing this, was so moved - either by my tenacity or idiocy - that he had taken me aside before leaving.

Please don"t take it personally, Dmitry"s younger brother (he was Voice #1, in case you hadn"t figured out that part yet) had told me with quiet insistence. He"s only like this because you remind Dmitry of someone he knows, and the memories associated with that person are far from good.

All the while Sasha was speaking, I remembered thinking at that time how his voice had sounded so much gentler. So, so gentle that it was impossible not to understand what he wasn"t saying without words...

I reminded Dmitry of an evil ex-girlfriend, and this was Sasha"s way of telling me that while he knew I"d do everything I could to get his brother to stop hating me...

It just wasn"t possible, and maybe it never would be.

I HAD ONCE FOOLISHLYthought that if I understood why Dmitry hated me and found his reason was valid, that would be enough, and my attraction to him would die a natural death.

Yeah.

Right.

That was just purely wishful thinking on my part. I was already on Week 16 with Strakh Inc., and nothing had changed. I"d make coffee in the morning, Dmitry would get a couple of F-bombs in before lunchtime, and in between analyzing financial statements and working on my forecasts, I"d usually struggle with my Hamlet-like temptation.

To stare or not to stare, that is the question.

The one time my gorgeous but mean-as-hell boss caught me staring at him, Dmitry had stared right back...at my neck. Really hard, too, until it became obvious he was mentally estimating its size (S or XS?) so he could start shopping online for a noose. My noose, in case you"re wondering.

So yeah, lesson learned after that.

And what I learned was...not to stop staring. Instead, I just worked harder these days at being sneaky and making sure that I was all subtle and discreet when my obsession got the better of me, and I just had to find a way to stare at him.

He was just so, so...hot.

Just something about him that drew me in like no one else, something about him alone that"s just...ugh.

Back when I just started working for him, I had really thought my obsession with him was like this summer flu I could eventually recover from. But obviously, that didn"t happen, and my crush on him only kept growing each day until it was now the size of the state of Texas.

My next strategy had been to try understanding the source of my attraction to him. I was hoping that if I could somehow find out why I found him so attractive, I could then start searching for - and dating - a guy who was similar but a lot less prone to cursing at the sight of me.

Originally, I had put it down to the fact that he was one of the men that made up Strakh Inc., and the dangerously exciting double life he led - dashing billionaire by day, fearless vigilante by night - was what attracted me the most.

But then I"d be asked to stick around for one of those rare Strakh Inc. meetings at the battle room, and no matter how long and hard I made myself stare at the other guys...

Sasha was a gentleman through and through, but I could only look at him as my brother from another mother.

Stelios Diamandis (aka Voice #2), a smooth-talking Greek billionaire, never failed to charm a smile out of me, but that was it.

Drake Morrison, the one whose voice was too casual, turned out to be ex-FBI, and while I no longer found him intimidating, the only other feeling he inspired was sadness. The pain that haunted his gaze never seemed to go away, not even when he was busy making fun of my "Mrs. Doubtfire" glasses.

Lastly, there was Bastien Havenstein - he with the gravelly, rumbling tone. Tall, big, and hard as a tank - sort of like Jason Momoa, same beard and all, but minus the lengthy locks. The German tycoon didn"t speak much, but he always had a kind word to spare when he was around.

Just like my boss, the four other members of Strakh Inc. were the kind that topped the usual lists of who"s who, who"s hottest and richest, year after year after year.

And yet...

Not a single one of them made my heart flutter. Not one of them made me want to steal glances over and over. Not one of them made me dream of kisses and lingering touches.

But then I"d find my gaze accidentally drift towards Dmitry, and...

Ooh...la...laaaaaaaaaaa.

I"d see him walking away, and I"d find myself wondering how it would feel, to rake my nails over the muscled cheeks of his ass as he joined our bodies and made us one.

I"d see his lips move as he spoke to the other guys, and I"d find myself wondering how it would feel, having my own lips crushed under that cruelly beautiful mouth of his.

I might still be a virgin, but I wasn"t born in the eighteenth century. My favorite romance novels were more than a little raunchy, and they were enough to help me reasonably guess things like how, um, well-endowed my boss was.

A few seconds of watching Dmitry, and man...

That was all it took.

A few seconds, and the stories I could make up about him and me, together, were endless.

Just a few seconds, a few seconds that I believed were harmless because I didn"t think my boss would ever notice.

But I was wrong.

IT WAS AN UNUSUALLYbreezy Friday afternoon in September, and I had been about to lock up and leave when I received a text from Dmitry. He had never texted me before this, and I had an even bigger shock when I finally read his message.

I need you to order dinner for two. Choose whatever you think"s good.

My knees knocked against each other, and I collapsed back into my chair as I found myself suddenly out of breath.

Did I read that right?

I rubbed my eyes and made myself read the message one more time. And another. And another. But the words didn"t disappear. They were still there.

Was this Dmitry"s way of offering an olive branch?

Or was I allowed to hope and think of this as Dmitry asking me out on a date?

Oh my God.

Either possibility was enough to make me feel giddy. Too giddy, in fact, that I had to spend several moments just trying to catch my breath and calming myself down.

Focus, T.G. Focus.

I reached for my phone, thought for a moment, and then I decided to call my favorite steak place.

Salad, two steaks cooked medium rare, and a slice of chocolate cake to share.

After this, I couldn"t resist the temptation of dashing down to the gym a couple of floors below. Membership was yet another job perk, and this gave me the chance to have a quick shower, blow-dry my hair, and get back to the office just in time to receive deliveries.

My thoughts started running wild as I set up a table for two at the balcony. Was it too much to light some candles, maybe start playing music from my phone?

Mm.

I tried imagining Dmitry"s reaction to this and almost winced.

Nah.

I had just finished pouring red wine into a pair of glasses when I heard the doors by the reception slide open.

Stay calm, T.G.

I heard the balcony doors slide open next, and my toes curled hard inside of my shoes.

Let"s try playing it cool, even if only for a—-

A feminine gasp interrupted my thoughts, and I froze in shock.

"Oh gosh."

That voice...was definitely not my boss"s.

"This is so gorg, Dimmy. Why do you keep spoiling me?"

My head jerked up, just in time to see a redhead throw her arms around Dimmy"s neck, and as she raised herself on her toes and started showering kisses all over my boss"s handsome face—-

Our gazes clashed, and what I saw in his eyes...

Ah.

It was then that I realized.

He knew.

From the very start, probably.

He knew.

Dmitry Adrianov knew I was attracted to him.

And this was his answer to it.