"Boss?" Dark brows lowered in confusion.
"Ignore her."
As he did. Tatyana ground her teeth. "You are a real...ooph..." She was pushed into the room.
"...ass, do you know that?"
He slammed the door behind them. "You will respect me, Brat. I require absolute obedience. Lives depend on it." He crowded close to her.
He was trying to intimidate her. She wouldn't be intimidated. "If you value your people's lives, you won't introduce them to me."
"Respect me." He grasped her upturned chin.
His eyes were the color of the richest chocolate. "In public," she conceded. "In private, I'll do whatever I like." She didn't care what he thought, what anyone thought. They'd all die.
Thinking he'd won, Nikky's smile screamed satisfaction. The ass. She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell and found it covered. His lips were firm and possessive, his tongue darting out to lick her, and his hand on the back of her head holding her still. She gasped at the contact. He took advantage of her opened mouth, leisurely exploring, sucking her tongue, stroking the roof of her mouth. The man could kiss.
He drew back, his expression even more triumphant. "In private, you'll do whatever I like."
"In your dreams." She stepped away from him, disgusted at herself for wanting him, a complete ass.
"Oh," He glanced over at the giant bed. "We'll be too exhausted for dreaming." The only giant bed in the room.
Panic swept over her. "I thought you had a suite." That's what he said. A suite. Two bedrooms.
"We have a kitchenette." He waved at it. "A sitting area. Bathroom. It is a suite."
"If you think I'm sleeping in the same bed as you..." He had another thing coming. She may have temporarily given up her freedom, at least until she figured out how to dodge the guard outside their door, but her body? Not a chance.
"Why? Are you a virgin, Brat?" His eyes gleamed.
"Of course not," she snapped. She yanked off the giant hoodie, flinging it to the floor, irritated that he struck so close to the truth. Only one man had lived long enough and although those two encounters, once the pain subsided, were interesting, they weren't anything she wanted to repeat with this man. No way, no how.
"Then what's the problem?" Nikky asked with absolute arrogance. "You have needs. I have needs." He reached under her pajama top, placing his hand high on her waist, on her bare skin. "You want me." His thumb swiped that sensitive spot under her breast and her knees wobbled. "I want you." He drew her close. "I'll want you even more," his nose scrunched up,
"after you shower."
She stunk. Her cheeks grew hot. "If it keeps you away from me, I may never shower."
"Alone." He grinned. "You have some great ideas, Brat." He bumped her toward the bathroom. "I'll be happy to try them out." He brushed his hand across her breasts.
"Bite...," She stopped, remembering what he'd done the last time she told him that.
"Yes? You were saying...?" He bared his teeth.
Straight white teeth. Tasting of that orange gum he chewed. She backed over the threshold.
"Out." She shoved him and slammed the bathroom door, locking it.
"Until later, Brat." She heard his chuckle through the door.
Walmart. Fucking Walmart. Nik stormed down the fluorescent lit aisle, Pavel following close at his heels. His John Lobb-clad heels. John Lobb, makers of some of the best dress shoes in the world. Meanwhile, his fiancee was clothes shopping at fucking Walmart.
When he phoned Boris for an update, he'd had to ask the man to repeat himself. Yes, he stupidly hadn't restricted her movements, but he didn't think he had to. All she owned was a pair of bloodstained pajamas and those the maid trashed while the brat took a nap.
Naked. In his bed. Nik scanned the aisles. That was one perk of this pain in the ass phony relationship. A small perk to make up for this trouble.
He heard her laughter first, followed by the rumble of Boris' reply. Nik pivoted in that direction, speeding up. Then he stopped short, his shoes squeaking on the floor.
His entire body hardened. She wore one of his white dress shirts, the tails skimming her calves, sleeves rolled up; a black belt, his, cinching her waist; flip-flops...and that was it. It was surprisingly decent, yet not. The vision of her in his shirt, her frizzy brown curls damp, was one of the most erotic things Nik had ever seen.
As she reached to grab a toothbrush from the shelves, the shirt pulled up. She laughed at something Boris said. Boris, his bodyguard, his single, good looking bodyguard, with his eyes on...
"What the hell are you doing?" Nik roared.
A woman, turning into the aisle with her cart, backed out. The brat simply smiled. "Oh, hi, Nikky." Nikky? She waved. "I need a toothbrush. Two, as I had to use yours. Sorry."
That wouldn't be the only thing of his she'd have in her mouth. He approached her. "We have people for this. If you asked, all of it would have been delivered to you." He indicated her full cart then peered closer. White cotton underwear, a six pack in plastic. People actually bought underwear that way? Deodorant. Another multi-pack, this time of black sports socks. White cotton bras in cheap-assed boxes. Black pants with elastic. Tank tops.
Orange flavored gum. Pink plastic disposable razors. More clothes. "Not all of it. You are not buying clothes from Walmart."
"Nikky, my dear, darling fiance," she looked pointedly at Boris, "we talked about this. It doesn't make sense for me to buy pricey clothes, not while I'm in a state of transit."
She was playing the doting fiancee. Fine, he'd play along. "Boris, Pavel, wait for us at cash."
He dismissed them. The younger bodyguard gave Tatyana one last wistful look before leaving. He would have to be reassigned. Nik couldn't have his bodyguards ogling the brat.
"My fiancee only wears designer clothes." He leaned against the cart.
"Well, your fiancee is not paying
