30. Chapter 30

thirty

Leonid

S he's so fucking hot when she’s angry.

Those blue eyes turn stormy, like the sea before a tempest. Her cheeks flush a deep red, chest heaving with each breath. It’s like watching a goddess of war come to life, and it sets my blood on fire.

I slam my room door shut, my cock already half-hard just thinking about her. But I don’t lock it.

Pizdets . She tried to kill me, and here I am, getting turned on like some horny mudak .

I rip off my tie, nearly choking myself in the process. My shirt follows, buttons flying as I tear it open. I need to cool down, but my skin feels like it’s on fire.

What are you doing to me, krasotka?

Knowing she’s right there, right beside my room, my cock grows even harder.

Govno. What the fuck is wrong with me?

But my eyes are already darting to the bank of monitors on my desk. There she is, pacing my playroom like a caged tiger. Beautiful. Dangerous.

Christ, the way her ass moves in that fucking dress… I want to sink my teeth into it.

“Fuck,” I growl, adjusting my rock-hard cock in my pants.

I should be in there right now, making her scream. But not the way I want to. I should be interrogating her, finding out who sent her. Instead, I’m here, watching her like a fucking peeping Tom, fantasizing about bending her over every surface in that room.

Blyat . I need a drink.

I stride over to the bar in the corner of my office and pour myself two fingers of vodka. The first sip burns, grounding me. I down the rest in one gulp.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I fire off a message to Maksim.

Me:

Any intel on our mystery woman?

I wait, drumming my fingers against my thigh. The response comes faster than expected, my phone buzzing in my hand.

Maksim:

Patience, Pakhan . It’s only been an hour since you asked me to dig. What’s got you so worked up?

I grit my teeth, typing furiously.

Me:

Just do your job, Maksim.

The ellipsis appears, disappears, then reappears. I can practically feel his amusement through the screen.

Maksim:

Are we feeling a bit testy tonight? * smirking face emoji* Perhaps it’s time we found you a nice, docile wife to settle down with.

Me:

Shut it, mudak .

His reply is almost instantaneous.

Maksim:

As you wish, oh great and powerful Pakhan . Though I must say, your sudden interest in this woman is… intriguing. * thinking face emoji*

I can practically see his smirk. My jaw clenches as I type back.

Me:

Watch it, Maksim. I’m not in the mood for games.

There’s a pause before his next message appears.

Maksim:

No games, boss. Just an observation. You’ve never brought a target home before. Should I be worried? * shocked face emoji*

His words hit too close to home. I stare at the screen, unsure how to respond. Before I can, another message pops up.

Maksim:

Relax, boss. I’m running her prints through every database we can access. Give me a few more hours.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my fingers moving across the keys.

Me:

Fine. But I want answers by morning. And dig up everything—her… brother, her entire damn family tree, every last detail.

Maksim:

Da, da . Now go get some sleep. Or don’t. Your new houseguest is quite the looker. * winking face emoji*

“ YA yebu tebya, ” I mutter, tossing the phone onto my bed. It buzzes one last time.

Maksim’s last message pops up:

Love you too, boss. Sweet dreams.

I roll my eyes but can’t help the slight twitch of my lips.

My eyes drift back to the monitors. She’s eyeing the plate of food I left, her arms crossed over her chest. She looks like a stubborn child, and for some reason, it makes me want to smile.

She inches closer to the bed, her movements cautious. Like a wary animal approaching a trap. It’s… oddly endearing.

“Yes, eat, krasotka .” I murmur, leaning closer to the screen.

She picks up a piece of bread, sniffs it, then takes a tiny bite. Her eyes widen in surprise.

I smirk. Kayla makes good food, there’s no doubt about it. It’s just a shame she’d only cook for one person… me.

I find myself grinning as she devours the rest of the food. It shouldn’t matter to me whether she eats or not. She tried to kill me, for fuck’s sake. I should be planning her slow, painful death, not worrying about her appetite.

This is insane.

I’m Leonid fucking Kuznetsov.

I don’t lose control like this. But watching her lick her fingers clean, all I can think about is how those fingers would feel wrapped around my shaft, how that tongue would feel on my balls.

“Stop it, you idiot,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from the screen.

There’s a stack of papers on my desk—merger proposals, shipping manifests, protection agreements. Important shit that needs my attention. I grab the first file, forcing myself to read the words.

But they might as well be in fucking Chinese, for all I understand them right now.

I turn to my computer, pulling up spreadsheets and financial reports. Numbers. Cold, hard facts. That’s what I need right now.

My eyes betray me, creeping back to the monitor.

She’s finished eating now, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then she starts exploring the room, running her fingers along the walls, examining every corner.

Suddenly, she stops. Her head tilts up, eyes narrowing.

Fuck . She’s found the camera.

She’s clearly no ordinary assassin. My camera’s tiny, practically the size of a fly. Something normal people would never notice. But she did, without missing a beat. She’s definitely not your average operative; she must be part of some top-tier underground organization.

I lean forward, breath caught in my throat. My cock is straining against my zipper.

In slow motion, she drags the nightstand across the floor. The legs screech against the hardwood, and I wince at the sound.

She climbs up, giving me a full view of her tits as she reaches for the camera. Christ, they’re perfect. Full and round.

Then she smirks, looking directly into the lens. My heart stops.

With deliberate slowness, she raises her middle finger, her eyes never leaving the camera.

I find myself leaning closer to the screen, trying to get closer to her.

I watch as her hand closes around the camera, trying to yank it free.

“Fucking piece of shit,” she snarls, voice muffled through the audio.

“That’s right, kitten. Fight it,” I mutter.

Every movement, every flash of frustration on her face, sends a jolt straight to my cock.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip as she strains against the camera, and I have to stifle a groan. I want to be the one biting that lip, tasting her anger and defiance.

She tries again, muscles in her arms straining as she pulls. But that camera is made to survive car crashes and explosions. It’s not going anywhere.

I smirk.

Her eyes narrow, that cold blue turning to ice. She leans in close, her face filling the screen.

“I will find a way to destroy you,” she hisses.

I exhale slowly, a low growl escaping, raw and thick with hunger.

Then she steps back, chest heaving. For a moment, she just stares at the camera, a mix of anger and determination on her face.

Finally, she raises her middle finger again, holding it there longer this time.

Something snaps inside me. My cock throbs harder. Demanding attention.

“Goddammit,” I snarl, unzipping my pants. I need a cold shower. Now.