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“What is it, Kole?” Mila’s muffled voice came through the closed door.
“Look, this is new for me,” he began, but stopped. What the fuck was he going to say? He pushed off the door with a growl and took a few steps back.
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t owe me a damn thing.”
He stared at the door in silence. She was right. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he was man enough to explain what had just happened in his office to her. He would never beat around the bush and hide anything from her. He’d made up his mind that Mila was the woman he wanted in his bed for as long as she would have him. He had done many things in his life, but lying wasn’t one of them.
He glanced down at his watch and cursed. He should be getting a call any moment from Denis. They had put it out there that he would be taking a vacation and traveling on his yacht. It had been a while since he’d had a vacation, so it shouldn’t be too suspicious. If he was going to personally move Mila, he couldn’t draw any unnecessary attention to himself.
The sound of the bathroom door opening grabbed his attention. He turned and watched Mila step out of the bathroom. She’d transformed into a mysterious woman, with long blonde locks now flowing around her shoulders. She was dressed in a dark V-neck, long sleeve blouse to cover her tattooed covered arms, and jeans that looked as if she were poured into them. His eyes dropped to her feet and found them encased into wedge sandals.
Viviana had done well. Just what they needed.
“So, you have a thing for blondes?” she sassed as she turned around, as if waiting for approval from his inspection.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he snapped, irritated. Why the hell would she say something like that? Here he was, about to lay everything on the table for her, and it was like she was deliberately trying to drive a wedge between them.
“Oh, I don’t know. It seems like you have a thing for blondes. Your friend, blonde.” She brushed past him and moved toward the couch. “Your girlfriend who just left—blonde.”
“Coincidence,” he growled as he moved to his desk. He leaned back against it so that he could face her.
“Really?” she asked with her eyebrow raised.
“I fucked you, didn’t I?” he snapped, and immediately regretted the word choice, but it was too late.
Her eyes narrowed on him as she leaned back on the couch and stretched her arm across it. She calmly crossed her legs as she glared at him, and if looks could kill, he would be pushing up daisies.
“That you did,” she murmured with a nod of her head.
“Look, Mila, I shouldn’t—”
“No, you should have.” The eyes that stared up at him were cold and hard. This was not the Mila that he’d had screaming his name. This was the mafia mistress, Mila Petrovna. “I think that’s what I needed to hear. I’ve been so caught up in what happened between us when I should have been focused on the fact that someone put a fucking hit out on me for something I didn’t do. It was good between us, Kole, but no more. Move me and we can go our separate ways.”
