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My heart thunders in my chest, so loud I'm sure they must be able to hear it. I need to move, to get away before?—
But as I finally manage to turn, disaster strikes. My elbow catches on a nearby champagne flute, sending it tumbling to the ground. The crystal shatters on the marble floor, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
Time seems to slow as I raise my eyes, already knowing what I'll find. Steel-blue eyes, cold and calculating, lock onto mine from the shadows of the alcove. Avros Petrov stares at me with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs.
In that moment, I know with bone-deep certainty that my life is about to change forever.
"You there," Avros says, his voice deceptively calm. "Come here."
My feet move of their own accord, drawn by the dominating command in his voice, which somehow fills the room. As I step closer, I get my first real look at the man who holds the fate of the city in his hands.
He's breathtaking. Even more handsome in person. Tall and broad-shouldered, with sharp Slavic features and a neatly trimmed beard. His tailored suit clings to every hard plane of muscle, hinting at the raw power contained within. But it's his eyes that capture me—icy blue and utterly ruthless.
"I don't believe we've met," he says, his accent thicker up close. "What's your name,krasavitsa?”
"S-Sydney," I stammer, cursing the tremor in my voice. "Sydney Reeves."
A slow smile spreads across his face, predatory and appreciative all at once. "Sydney," he repeats, as if tasting the syllables. "Tell me, how much did you hear just now?"
My heart pounds against my ribs. This is it—the moment that will determine whether I walk out of here alive or disappear without a trace. There isn’t a good answer, is the unfortunate thing. I wet my suddenly dry lips, acutely aware of how his gaze tracks the movement, wondering why my cheeks heat.
"Nothing, sir," I lie, praying he can't see the fear in my eyes. "I was just passing by and accidentally knocked over the glass. I'm so sorry for the disturbance."
Avros studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he chuckles, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
"You're a terrible liar, Sydney Reeves," he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. His fingers linger on my cheek, scorching hot against my skin. "But I admire your bravery. Not many would dare to try and deceive me. Especially in such circumstances.”
I swallow hard, trapped by his intense gaze. "I should get back to work," I manage, gesturing weakly with my now-empty tray.
"I don't think so," Avros says, his tone brooking no argument. He plucks the tray from my hands and sets it aside, never taking his eyes off me. "You and I need to have a little chat. Somewhere more... private."
As he places a large hand on the small of my back, guiding me away from prying eyes and ears, I can't help but shiver. Whether from fear or something else entirely, I'm not sure.
All I know is that in the space of a few heartbeats, my entire world has shifted on its axis. And Avros Petrov is at the center of it all, a dark star threatening to pull me into his orbit.
God help me, but part of me wants to let him.
2
Avros
Iguide the trembling redhead through the winding corridors of my mansion, my mind racing. The click of her heels on the marble floor echoes in the cavernous space, a staccato rhythm that matches the pounding of my heart.
I'm used to dealing with threats, eliminating them swiftly and without mercy. But something about this woman gives me pause. She's not the typical threat, easy to get rid of, a fellow slimy criminal or a "good guy" on the take. Instead, she's just... normal. Ordinary. Untouched.
As we pass the grand staircase, I catch her wide-eyed stare at the crystal chandelier overhead, the priceless artwork adorning the walls. Her reaction to the opulence surrounding us is refreshingly genuine. No calculated avarice, just open wonder.
My security detail flanks us, their presence a silent reminder of the dangers that lurk beyond these gilded walls. I notice how Sydney flinches when one of them shifts, the telltale bulge of ashoulder holster visible beneath his jacket. Her fear is palpable, but there's a steel in her spine that intrigues me.
We reach my office, a testament to power and wealth. Dark wood paneling lines the walls, interspersed with shelves of leather-bound books. The massive desk that dominates the room has witnessed countless deals and threats.
Mostly the latter, if I'm being honest. People in my position rarely use the carrot before reaching for the stick.
As I close the heavy oak door behind us, I notice her taking in every detail. Smart girl. She's looking for escape routes. She won't find any, but I have to give it to her for trying.
"Sit," I command, my voice a mix of silk and steel.
She obeys without hesitation, perching on the edge of a leather armchair. Her submissive obedience pleases me in a way I wasn't expecting. I circle her slowly, enjoying the way my nearness sets her on edge. I need to know how much she heard, who she might tell. But more than that, I find myself captivated by her presence.
