Not Just the Boss's Plaything(13)

Alicia decided that later-much later, when she knew how this ended and    could breathe without thinking she might burst into panicked,  frustrated   tears-she would think about the fact that a man like  Nikolai had so   many women that he'd developed policies to handle them  all. Later. Right   now, she had to fight back, or surrender here and  now and lose   everything.

"I assure you," she said, as if she had her own set of violated policies    and was considering them as she met his gaze, "I feel the same way."

Nikolai shifted, and then suddenly there was no distance between them at    all. His hands were on her neck, his thumbs at her jaw, tipping her    head back to look up at him. Alicia should have felt attacked,    threatened. She should have leaped for safety. Screamed. Something.

But instead, everything inside of her went still. And hot.

"I am not here to concern myself with your feelings," he told her in    that rough velvet whisper. That fascinating mouth was grim again, but    she could almost touch it with hers, if she dared. She didn't. "I am    here to eliminate this problem as swiftly and as painlessly as    possible."

But his hands were on her. Just as they'd been in the club when he'd    told her to run. And she wondered if he was as conflicted as she was,    and as deeply. What it would take to see that guarded look on his face    again, that vulnerable cast to his beautiful mouth.

"You really are the gift that keeps on giving, Nikolai," she managed to    say, retreating to a sarcastic tone, hoping the bite of it might   protect  her. She even smiled, thinly. "I've never felt happier about my    reckless, irresponsible choices."                       
       
           



       

He let out a short laugh, and whatever expression that was on his hard    face then-oddly taut and expectant, dark and hot-was like a flame  inside   of her. His hands were strong and like brands against her skin.  His   thumbs moved gently, lazily, as if stroking her jaw of their own  accord.

"I don't like sharp women with smart mouths, Alicia," he told her, harsh    and low, and every word was a caress against her skin, her sex, as if    he was using those long fingers deep in her heat. "I like them sweet.    Soft. Yielding and obedient and easily dismissed."

That same electricity crackled between them even here on the cold    street, a bright coil that wound tight inside of her, making her feel    mad with it. Too close to an explosion she knew she couldn't allow.

"What luck," she said, sharp and smart and nothing like soft at all. "I    believe there's a sex shop in the next street, filled with exactly the    kind of plastic dolls you prefer. Shall I point you in the right    direction?"

He let go of her as if she'd burned him. And she recognized that dark    heat in his gaze, the way it changed his expression, the things it did    to that mouth.

"Get in the car, Alicia," he ordered her darkly. "I have an aversion to    discussing my private life on a public street, deserted or not."

It was her turn to laugh, in disbelief.

"You have to be crazy if you think I'm getting back in that thing," she    told him. "I'd rather get down on my hands and knees and crawl across a    bed of nails, thank you."

She knew it was a mistake almost before the words left her mouth, and    that sudden wolfish look on his face nearly undid her. It was    impossible, then, not to picture herself down on her hands and knees,    crawling toward that ravenous heat in his winter eyes she could remember    too well, and could see right there before her now.

"I wasn't thinking about sex at present," he said coolly, and even    though she could see from that fire in his gaze that he'd imagined much    the same thing she had, she felt slapped. Shamed anew. "Why? Were  you?"

It was time to go, Alicia realized then. It had been time to go the    moment she'd seen that SUV idling at the curb. Before this thing got any    worse-and she had no doubt at all that it would.

"It was lovely to finally meet you properly, Mr. Korovin," she said    crisply. She put a faint emphasis on the word properly, and he blinked,    looking almost...abashed? But that was impossible. "I'm sure your    partnership with the charity will be a huge boost for us, and I'm as    grateful as anyone else. And now I'm going home, where I will continue    to actively pretend none of this ever happened. I can only hope you'll    do the same."

"You didn't tell me you worked for a children's charity."

She didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but it wasn't that, with    that sting of accusation. She eyed him warily. "Neither did you."

"Did you know who I was, Alicia?" Nikolai's face was so hard, his gaze    so cold. She felt the chill suddenly, cutting into her. "You stumbled    into my arms. Then you stumbled into that conference room today.    Convenient." His eyes raked over her, as if looking for evidence that    she'd planned this nightmare. "Your next stumble had best not involve    any tabloid magazines or tell-all interviews. You won't like how I    respond."

But she couldn't believe he truly thought that, she realized when the    initial shock of it passed. She'd been in that bed with him. She knew    better. Which meant he was lashing out, seeing what would hurt her.    Eliminating problems, as he'd said he would.

"There's no need to draw out this torture," she told him, proud of how    calm she sounded. "If you want me sacked, we both know you can do it    easily. Daniel would have the entire staff turn cartwheels down the    length of the Mall if he thought that would please you. Firing me will    be a snap." She squared her shoulders as if she might have to sustain a    blow. As if she already had. "If that's what you plan to do, I   certainly  can't stop you."                       
       
           



       

He stared at her for a long moment. A car raced past on the street    beside them and in the distance she could hear the rush of traffic on    the main road. Her breath was coming hard and fast, like she was    fighting whole battles in her head while he only stood there, still and    watchful.

"You're a distraction, Alicia," he told her then, something like regret in his voice. "I can't pretend otherwise."

"Of course you can," she retorted, fighting to keep calm. "All people do    is pretend. I pretended to be the sort of woman-" She didn't want to    announce exactly what she'd been pretending for eight years, not to  him,   so she frowned instead. "Just ignore me and I'll return the  favor. It   will be easy."

"I am not the actor in the family."

"I didn't ask you to play King Lear," she threw at him, panicked and    exasperated in equal measure. "I only asked you to ignore me. How    difficult can that possibly be? A man like you must have that down to a    science."

"What an impression you have of me," Nikolai said after a moment, his    voice silken, his eyes narrow. "I treated you very well, Alicia. Have    you forgot so soon? You wept out your gratitude, when you weren't    screaming my name."

She didn't need the reminder. She didn't need the heat of it, the wild pulse in her chest, between her legs.

"I was referring to your wealth and status," Alicia said, very    distinctly. "Your position. The fact you have armies of assistants to    make sure no one can approach you without your permission. Not your..."

"Particular talents?" His voice was mild enough as he finished the    thought for her. The effect his words had on her, inside her, was not.

But then he leaned back against the side of his car, as if he was    perfectly relaxed. Even his face changed, and she went still again,    because there was something far more predatory about him in this moment    than there had been before. It scraped the air thin.