Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
If it’s necessary, then yes. You hired me to do a job, and I understand that. However, my job is to care for Nino, which means telling you things you might not like to hear if it’s in his best interest.
“And you are the expert?” he scoffs. “What qualifications do you have that deem you as such? You’ve been in his life for five minutes. I’m the one who has raised him.”
He needs balance, I insist. Surely, if you took a moment to truly listen to him, you would see it for yourself.
Without warning, his hand whips toward me and latches around my jaw. His fingers dig into my skin as I stumble backward, fear and adrenaline surging inside of me. He backs me into the wall, and I try to remember how to breathe as I stare straight into the storm in his eyes. I don’t know what’s happening, and I’m mentally preparing myself for a fight when he leans in and does the last thing I expect. He … inhales me.
A shiver shoots down my spine to my toes, and instead of steeling myself like I should, my body melts into the wall, trapped by his warmth and his intensity.
“I can smell your fear, Natalia.” His breath whispers against my ear. “Is it me you’re afraid of?”
My chest heaves, and I shake my head, but it’s obviously a lie. He knows it. I know it. He fucking terrifies me, and not for any of the right reasons. He terrifies me because I think I like this. I like the hard plane of his chest pressing against me while his scent surrounds me. I like his warmth and the smooth lyrical voice he never raises, even when he’s making a clear threat. He towers over me, strong and intimidating, and I should be afraid. Deep down, I know what this man does. I knew it the second I saw the blood stain on his shirt cuff. So why doesn’t he scare me? Why is it that somehow, amidst the chaos in my beating heart, I still feel safe with him? Safe to express myself? Safe to stare straight into his eyes the way nobody in his life seems to?
He inches closer, and warmth blooms throughout my belly when his erection presses against me. It isn’t a mishap. He wants me to know it’s there. He wants to see my reaction. We’re so close I’m drowning in the power of his masculinity. I’m breathing him in too. Instinct has me wrapping my fingers around his biceps, but I haven’t decided if it’s to push him away or pull him closer. He can see the war in my eyes, and he enjoys it. He enjoys it too much. I choke on my uncertainty as I lean forward an inch, just enough to feel the hardness of his want for me digging into my belly. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I know I like it when his eyes flare and then heat with a liquid fire I never want to extinguish.
I should tell him this is inappropriate. I should tell him we can’t let anything interfere with our professional relationship. But I can’t seem to find the strength to push him away. I think I want to know what it’s like to be kissed. To be touched without violence. Control is an illusion, but I feel like I have it with him. He’s a dangerous man, but I trust that if I were to tell him to stop, he would. I don’t know how or why. It’s just something I feel. It’s a perilous trap to fall into. I shouldn’t. Before I can decide for myself, he makes the call for both of us, stepping back and shaking his head as if he, too, were under a spell.
“Don’t test me, Natalia,” he clips out. “I told you this is not a job you can leave easily. You might not agree with my decisions when it comes to Nino, but those are my decisions to make.”
My jaw clamps down, and his words douse me with a much-needed supply of cold reality. He’s back to being a hardheaded ass, closed off and shut down. As angry as the realization makes me, I have an unwanted pang of empathy too. I can recognize this pattern all too well. It’s a protective mechanism. He’s keeping everyone out, and I have to wonder why. Why isn’t he married? Why is someone as handsome as him without a partner?
I catch a glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes before he turns toward the door, like I’m the one who’s a threat. As if I could find a weakness in his armor. Two weeks ago, I would have been pleased to know it. I would have immediately planned how to use that to my advantage. Now, the thought makes me slightly queasy, and it occurs to me that this plan was much simpler to execute in my mind. In reality, I’m faced with the very real human emotions I’ll have to battle when I betray him. Already, I’m starting to realize I don’t want to.