Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

A my

I slammed my apartment door shut, tossed my bag onto the nearest chair, and exhaled a long, frustrated breath.

Two days.

I had two whole days before I’d have to see him again. And yet, somehow, I couldn’t get Aleksei Morozov out of my mind.

I sank onto the couch, tugging off my shoes and rubbing my temples, as if a headache might be the only reason that he’d lingered in my thoughts all the way home even though I knew better.

“Well, with that attitude, you’re going to have to wait a while longer to have my cock where you want it, won’t you, little girl?”

The absolute fucking nerve.

No one had ever talked to me like that before. And worse, he’d been right. I was thinking about him, about his cock pounding into me, even now, long after I’d left the gallery.

It was driving me crazy.

I shook my head, irritated that he’d managed to get under my skin. This wasn’t me. I didn’t get flustered over a man, especially a player like him. But something about Aleksei had slipped past my defenses, making me question my resolve, my sanity. Making me question everything.

I needed to shake this off. I needed a distraction—something loud, fun, and utterly Aleksei-free.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed my best friend, Zoey, who picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answered, her voice bright and full of that positive energy I could always count on her for.

“Are you free tonight?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, casual.

“For you? Always. What’s the occasion?”

“Let’s just say I need a night on the town to forget a particularly irritating someone,” I replied, emphasizing the word with all the exasperation I’d bottled up. “Cocktails, dancing, the works.”

“Oooh, sounds like someone’s in need of a mental cleanse,” Zoey teased, laughing. “Perfect timing, I just got a new dress that’s begging to be shown off. Meet at my place at eight?”

“Absolutely,” I said, feeling a spark of relief at the thought of getting out, and focusing on anything other than Aleksei and his maddening confidence.

As I hung up, I took a deep breath. Tonight, I’d let loose and drown out the memory of his words in a haze of music and dancing. I’d put him firmly out of my mind, one cocktail at a time. And maybe, just maybe I’d finally shake the image of that insufferably cocky smile once and for all.

Or at least until Monday…

I stalked into my bedroom and opened my closet. I needed a look that screamed unbothered, that would help me feel like myself again—and for that, there was no better choice than a classic little black dress.

I slipped into it, the soft fabric hugging my curves perfectly, and paired it with heels that added just the right edge. I brushed my hair, letting my dark waves fall over my shoulders, tousled and effortless, and added a bold red lip for good measure.

I was Amy fucking Whitaker, professional, confident, and very much in control of her own life.

“Alright,” I said to my reflection, giving myself one last look as I grabbed my purse. “No more thinking about him. Tonight, it’s all about you.”

I lifted my chin with a huff.

Zoey’s place was a short Uber ride away, and by the time I arrived, she’d already started the party in her apartment. Music was playing, and she opened the door with an excited grin to reveal her new dress—a striking red number that highlighted her blonde hair and blue eyes—glamorous and daring, just like her.

“Amy! Look at you! Damn, girl,” she teased, pulling me inside and giving me a onceover. “You look ready to break a few hearts tonight.”

“Let’s hope so,” I laughed, stepping into the warmth of her living room, where two glasses of wine waited on the table. “I think I need it.”

We clinked glasses and sipped, the music filling the room as Zoey danced a little, moving to the beat while I took in the familiar comfort of her place. Everything here felt light, easy—a welcome contrast to the heaviness that had followed me around all day.

“So,” Zoey started, winking as she took another sip of wine, “who’s the guy? Because there has to be one. I know that look.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a smile. Zoey had known me long enough to read between the lines.

“Fine,” I admitted, relaxing into the couch. “There’s… someone. My new boss, actually.”

“Oooh, now this sounds like the kind of story I like. What’s his deal?” Zoey leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Where do I even start?” I sighed, leaning back and sipping my wine. “He’s infuriating, Zoey. Smug. Cocky, arrogant, just… so sure of himself. You know the type—thinks he can get whatever he wants just because he walks into a room. That type.”

Zoey raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. “And I’m guessing he’s, what, insufferably attractive too?”

I groaned, the blush creeping up my cheeks even as I tried to keep my voice steady. “Unfortunately, yes. He’s… well, let’s just say he knows it.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work.” Zoey grinned, nudging me. “But from the look on your face, I’d say he’s managed to get under your skin. What’s he done to make you this flustered?”

I hesitated, feeling the blush deepen. “He just… He has this way of looking at me, like he’s already three steps ahead of whatever I’m thinking. Like he knows exactly how to push my buttons before I even know he’s pushing them.”

Zoey’s eyes widened. “Sounds dangerously fun. But what is it—are you tempted? Do you want to bend over your boss’s desk and take it like a good girl?”

“No!” I protested, though the blush on my cheeks betrayed me. “Absolutely not. He’s the last person I’d want… It’s just that he’s… I don’t know.”

Zoey tilted her head, watching me with an amused grin. “Alright, so he’s insufferably cocky and infuriatingly attractive. Got it. But something tells me there’s more to this story than you’re letting on, Amy.” She gave me a playful nudge. “Out with it. What else has this guy done to get under your skin so quickly?”

I felt my cheeks warm again, my mind drifting back to the last two days, to that low, assured way Aleksei had spoken to me, the weight of his fingers under my chin, and the unspoken authority in his gaze.

How he’d called himself Daddy like he’d already decided I’d say it eventually…

But there was no way I was telling Zoey that part. No way in hell.

Instead, I shook my head, trying to play it off.

“Honestly, I think it’s just the power thing. It’s like he’s always in control, and everyone around him just—well, falls in line.”

Zoey grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Mhmm. So, you’re annoyed because he thinks he’s got you all figured out?”

“Exactly,” I replied quickly, grateful she’d steered away from the parts I couldn’t even begin to explain. “He’s so smug, Zoey. Like he’s already decided what I’m going to say or think before I’ve even figured it out myself.”

“Oh, he sounds awful,” she teased, drawing the word out, her grin widening. “A hot, ridiculously confident boss who just so happens to get under your skin with every little thing he does? Amy, I’d call that a win.”

I laughed, even as I squirmed under her gaze. “It’s not a win. He’s impossible, and he keeps throwing out these little… challenges. Like he’s waiting for me to… I don’t know… let him win.”

Zoey leaned back, watching me with that knowing look only she could pull off. “You know, usually when guys do that, it’s because they’re into you.”

“Well, I’m not into him,” I said firmly, taking another sip and trying to keep my voice steady.

“Sure, you aren’t,” she said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the hint of a smile that crept onto my lips. She wasn’t entirely wrong, and that only made it worse. The truth was the idea of him being ‘into’ me stirred something dangerous and complicated inside of me and I wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

We chatted for a while longer and then about an hour later, the two of us caught an Uber to one of the city’s most popular clubs, where neon lights flashed in rhythm with the bass that pulsed through the room. The energy was electric, the dance floor packed with people moving together and losing themselves to the beat.

It was the kind of distraction I’d been hoping for and exactly what I needed.

Zoey took my hand, pulling me through the crowd until we found a spot near the middle of the floor. The music thumped around us, and soon we were swept up in it, moving and letting the beat pull us out of our thoughts. The crowd surged around us, and for a while, I felt the tension of the last few days start to slip away.

Zoey grinned at me, her eyes sparkling as she leaned in, practically shouting over the music. “See? Isn’t this better than obsessing over Mr. Too-Sexy-For-His-Own-Good?”

“Much better!” I shouted back, laughing, letting myself go as the music throbbed, each beat grounding me more in the present.

We danced, laughing and twirling under the strobe lights. Zoey’s carefree energy was contagious, and soon I felt like myself again.

I could almost forget about Aleksei Morozov.

Here, surrounded by strangers, I was anonymous, free. Just a woman out with her best friend, dancing without a care.

But every now and then, a thought of him slipped back in, uninvited. The way he’d looked at me, how he’d pushed my buttons effortlessly, how he knew just how to get under my skin and make me feel things I hadn’t felt before in my life. I shook it off, refusing to let him steal any more of my night.

Zoey leaned in again, grinning mischievously. “This is exactly what you needed! Look at you, already a new woman. He’s already forgotten, isn’t he?”

“Completely,” I lied, putting on a smile, even as I felt that familiar warmth creeping up my neck. I danced harder, determined to let go of every last thought of him.

As the night wore on, a few guys drifted over, catching my eye, each one trying to make a play for me. They were the usual suspects—clean-cut, grinning, confident in that practiced way that told me they’d never been denied a day in their lives.

Players. The whole lot of them.

One leaned in with a smooth line about my dress, another offered to buy me a drink, and the third, a little bolder, reached for my hand, spinning me in time with the music.

Zoey gave me a knowing look, rolling her eyes. We’d been here before. Boys like these were everywhere in this city. I was no stranger to them, to the routine they thought worked, as if I’d go home with them after nothing more than a half-smile and a couple of compliments and maybe a drink. One of them had the nerve to lean in close, his hand on my hip as he moved in time with me, his cologne cloying, too sweet.

But it wasn’t working. They were handsome, sure, but they weren’t enough. Not anymore. I was tired of boys with too much polish and no substance, no edge. They didn’t have what I needed.

What I needed was… well, I wasn’t entirely sure. I needed something different. Someone real, someone intense.

“Zoey,” I muttered under my breath as I leaned in, exasperated, “I swear, the next guy I’m going to be with is going to be a firefighter or a cop or something. I’m done with rich boys who think they can get in my pants by simply buying me a drink or grinding their cock into my ass on the dance floor.”

She burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “I get it. You want a guy who can keep up, who’ll push back.”

“Exactly.” I sighed, glancing around as if maybe someone fitting that description would magically appear.

Not surprisingly, no one did.

“Like your boss,” she teased.

“How dare you?” I laughed, shaking my head.

I wanted someone who could pull me in without trying, someone who’d know what I wanted without needing me to spell it out. Someone who could match me, someone who could best me—both mentally and physically.

I needed that challenge, the spark that came from a man who could take what I threw at him and give it right back without missing a beat.

I wanted someone who’d put me in my place and make me want it.

The realization hit me like a jolt, and I forced myself to smile, to keep dancing with the boys hitting on me and Zoey. They’d never get under my skin. Not a single one of them could outwit me, let alone make me question who was in control.

But Aleksei … He was different.

He’d seen straight through me, meeting my gaze with an unyielding intensity that left me flustered in ways I didn’t want to admit. It was infuriating and unsettling and maybe—just maybe—the exact thing I needed.

But if I were honest with myself, I wasn’t interested in any of these men because of one very simple reason.

None of them were Aleksei.