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My brow arches. “Mr. Krylov…”
“Too personal?”
I tilt my head. “Perhaps.”
“You’re more than welcome to ask me anything at all, too.”
I smirk. “You’ll answer anything I ask?”
“I don’t think I said that.”
My cheeks flush as I drop my eyes and reach for the wine.
Why the fuck does this feel like a date?
Maybe because you’re asking each other personal questions. Maybe because you’re FLIRTING with the Bratva kingpin.
…Am not.
…Are too.
“How about you, Mr. Krylov?” I throw him a sharp look. “Are you single?”
“Yes.”
Oh.
Of course he is.
I take a sip of wine. I almost moan when it slides over my tongue.
“Not too shabby, is it,” he growls.
“That is…delightful, actually.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
I take another sip, letting my eyes roll back as I swallow.
“Are you a wine connoisseur, Mr. Krylov?”
He just looks at me, a small smile touching his lips as he inclines his head, and smiles. “It was my turn for a question.”
“Well, in that case,” I laugh, “ask away.”
“My previous question is still on the table. Who broke up with whom?”
I stare at him curiously, my brow furrowing as if trying to figure out if he’s fucking with me. And yet, something tells me Drazen Krylov isn’t much of a “fuck around” kind of man.
I take another sip of the incredible wine before I sigh and shrug my shoulders.
“Fine, if we’re getting personal…”
“I insist upon it, Ms. Crown.”
“Technically, I broke up with him,” I blurt. “But that was after I walked in on him with his dick in some other girl’s mouth. In my apartment. On my new sofa.”
The second all that tumbles out, I balk, horrified at myself not just for sharing all of that information, but sharing it such spectacularly crude fashion to the firm’s billionaire client.
