Chapter 19

Chapter 18

Luka

20 mins earlier

"WHAT THE hell? Is she for real?" I mutter as my gaze locks onto her. "She wasn't included in this morning's candidates, was she?"

My eyes glue to Sophia before darting to Svetlana standing rigidly at my side. She solemnly shakes her head, her stern expression colored with an unusual hint of curiosity.

"No, sir. A late addition. One of the janitorial staff vouched for her."

I'd burned through those profiles this morning, all eleven, each potential candidate picked apart. But she wasn't among them.

The sheaf of resumés in my hand buckles, crumpling in my tense grip. She crashed the party, an unexpected twist in my otherwise meticulous process. A surprise but not necessarily an unwelcome one.

Now, here she is, in my sight again. Sophia. Like a damn mirage that won't go away. She's back. There are a lot of questions I should be asking right now, and top of the list should be "Why?"

What's her reason for coming back here?

What are the chances of this being a coincidence?

Good questions, all of them. Instead, my pulse throbs in my veins, my cock swelling with an undeniable urgency. Her presence is a dangerous cocktail, her scent the catalyst, like pouring gasoline on an already raging inferno. The fragrance of her perfume lingers in the air, a sultry hint of jasmine and vanilla that drills into my senses.

I wonder what she's got on under that funeral-like black dress of hers.

"Blyad, chert vozmi," I curse under my breath. The dress clings to her body like a second skin, radiating that "fuck me" vibe. An arrow to my libido.

Is she wearing those lacy little panties that drive me crazy?

Hell, is she even wearing anything under it at all?

The thought sends a jolt straight to my crotch. I can feel my pants tightening, and I need to shift my gaze before I completely lose it.

But it's those damn eyes of hers – they're messing with my head. They bore into me, tearing down every goddamn defense I've ever built. The room's buzzing with noise, but it all fades into nothing.

She's the only thing that matters. The only thing I see.

We lock eyes, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

I raise an eyebrow, daring her to look away. She's shaking, her breath hitching in her chest, her skin pale as a ghost. But her gaze… Her gaze is fucking fearless. It taunts me, dares me to break first.

A silent dare between us. I lift an eyebrow. Her response? A defiant glare.

"What the fuck?" I growl. I'm the boss here. Yet she's got me feeling like a horny schoolboy.

It's a mindfuck, a headspin. Feelings, desires I haven't felt in years.

I watch her as her chest swells ever so slightly before her shoulders adjust and her spine straightens. She still looks fearlessly at me, her gaze daring me to choose her.

"I am not only a nanny-extraordinaire, but I'm also available 24/7 for Yulia. That's right, no breaks, no vacations, just pure, unadulterated dedication!" She's up there, chin high, voice trembling, but she's bulldozing through it.

The room buzzes with whispers, but all I can zero in on is her. Sophia. She's a live wire in a room of muted tones.

Yey-Bogu!

I haven't felt this damn entertained in years.

Her "pitch," if you can even dignify it with that term, is downright ballsy. Not your everyday scene; a woman offering herself up like a Christmas present to be a nanny in the den of the mafia household. And the sheer gutsiness of it! Blyat! That's a rare sight, intriguing.

I'm trying to keep a poker face, clenching my jaw tight, but it's a damn futile effort. Laughter is surging up, obliterating any pretense of seriousness I've been clinging to. I make a stab at suppressing it, but it's about as effective as using a toothpick to stop a speeding bullet.

This is fucking unreal.

It bursts from me, a low chuckle at first, then escalating into full-on guttural laughter that shakes me to my core. My body convulses with the force of it, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

I can't help but feel a perverse sense of delight, a fucking win, even. This whole scenario is batshit crazy, miles away from what I'd figured today would look like.

I haven't laughed like this in a long time.

A room full of professional nannies, and the one who steals the spotlight is the one who's clearly out of her element.

I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard that I cried.

Not since before Mama passed and Yulia was a baby.

Before my double-crossing uncle – my mother's own brother – put a bullet in my father's skull, screwed me over, landed me behind bars, and made Dimitri and Erik his next targets.

Before my entire freaking universe blew up.

But Sophia's eyes are shooting bullets my way. Her eyebrows have pulled together like she's trying to solve a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.

Her lips are pressed into a tight line, not soft and inviting as I remember, and her whole body is tensed up like she's ready to throw a punch. The sight is more amusing than intimidating.

I've had a taste of her, but it's not enough. It's never fucking enough. I'm pretty certain that the more I get, the more I'm going to crave. It's a vicious cycle, a hunger that only grows, a thirst that can't be quenched.

I want more. I need more.

And I'll be damned if I don't take what I want.

The laughter dies in my throat, and the room goes deathly quiet, like the aftermath of a gunshot.

I stride toward her like we are the only people in the room. My nostrils flare with her scent; flowers and vanilla. It's intoxicating, familiar.

"I've missed you, krasotka," I growl, closing the distance between us. The words slip out unfiltered, raw. "You've been away too long."

Sophia's reaction is anything but subtle. Her brows arch, a snort escaping her as she gives me a once-over, a mixture of disbelief and amusement etched on her face.

Her anger hits me next. Like a punch to the gut. She's pissed. I was laughing; she thinks I'm belittling her. It wraps around my mind like barbed wire, drawing out feelings I shouldn't have.

Aggression.

Dominance.

Lust.

Fuck, it hits me below the belt. I want to have her screaming my name, clawing at my back, lost in waves of pleasure. My balls tighten in anticipation, a beast in my pants roaring to claim what's his.

I look at her, the thrill of the chase pulsing through my veins.

"She's the one I want," I declare, my voice bouncing off the walls of the room filled with candidates standing rigidly in front of me.