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Her scent wafts up to me—a light, floral fragrance undercut by the sharp tang of fear-induced sweat. It's an intoxicating mixture. I inhale deeply, savoring it.
"Now," I say, leaning against my desk, arms crossed over my broad chest, "let's talk about what you think you heard tonight."
As Sydney stammers out denials, my mind drifts to the conversation she overheard. My brother, Miron, facing charges that could destroy everything we've built. The judge, so easily swayed by threats and promises. It's a delicate balance, thisworld of power and corruption. One misstep and it all comes crashing down.
"I swear, Mr. Petrov, I didn't hear anything important," Sydney insists, her voice quavering. "Just something about a verdict and... and a brother?"
Her words send a jolt of adrenaline through me. Even this vague recollection is too much. If word gets out about Miron's case, about my involvement... I clench my fists, fighting to keep my expression neutral.
"And what do you think you know about my brother?" I ask, my voice dangerously soft.
Sydney's eyes widen, realizing her mistake. "N-nothing, sir. I don't know anything. I shouldn't have mentioned it."
I lean in closer, watching as she shrinks back into the chair. "No, you shouldn't have. But since you did, let me make something very clear." I pause, letting the tension build. "My family is off-limits. Do you understand?"
She nods frantically, a lock of fiery hair falling across her face. Without thinking, I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. Sydney freezes at my touch, her breath catching audibly.
"Good girl," I murmur, letting my fingers trail along her jawline before pulling away. "Now, tell me what else you heard."
As she recounts fragments of the conversation, I find my thoughts split between concern for Miron and fascination with the woman before me. My brother's future hangs in the balance, years of careful maneuvering at risk of crumbling. And yet, I can't help but be distracted by the way Sydney's pulse fluttersvisibly at her throat, the slight tremor in her full lips as she speaks.
"The judge seemed... reluctant," she says hesitantly. "You mentioned something about skeletons in closets?"
I chuckle darkly, remembering the fear in the judge's eyes. "Everyone has secrets,krasotka. Some are just more damaging than others."
"Is that what you're going to do to me?" Sydney asks, a hint of defiance creeping into her tone. "Find my skeletons?"
The spark of fire in her eyes is captivating. I find myself wanting to stoke it further, to see how brightly she can burn.
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary," I reply, letting my gaze roam appreciatively over her figure. "I have a feeling you'll be much more... cooperative."
A blush spreads across her cheeks, and I'm struck by the urge to trace its path with my lips. I shake off the impulse, reminding myself of the gravity of the situation. This isn't the time for such indulgences.
Later, though. There will be time. Plenty of time, and then I will take all that I want. I will show the world that it can’t keep anything from me, not the ripest fruit nor the bitterest one. I’ll have it all.
"Mr. Petrov," Sydney says softly, drawing my attention back to her delicate, heart-shaped face. "What's going to happen to me?"
The vulnerability in her expression tugs at something deep within me. For a moment, I'm tempted to reassure her, to promise that no harm will come to her. But I can't afford such weakness. Not with Miron's fate hanging in the balance.
"That depends entirely on you," I say instead, my voice low and intense. "On how well you can keep a secret."
She swallows hard, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. "I won't tell anyone what I heard. I swear it."
"Words are easy. Promises can be broken,” I counter, circling behind her chair. I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling her tense beneath my touch. Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, "Actions, on the other hand... they require a certain level of commitment."
Sydney shivers, whether from fear or something else, I'm not entirely sure. The tremble that runs through her body is oddly enticing, and I find myself wanting to provoke more such reactions.
"What kind of commitment?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I straighten, moving back to face her. My eyes roam over her figure, taking in the way her uniform clings to her curves. "That remains to be seen," I say, my voice low and husky. "For now, you'll stay here, where I can keep a very... close eye on you."
The innuendo isn't lost on her. Sydney's cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink, and she shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. The movement draws my attention to her shapely calves, and I have to force my gaze back to her face.
"But I have classes, my job—" she starts, a note of panic in her voice.
"All of that can be arranged," I interrupt smoothly, leaning against my desk. The position accentuates my physique, and I notice her eyes flicker briefly to my chest before darting away."Your education, your financial needs... consider them taken care of, in exchange for your silence and cooperation."
I reach for the phone on my desk, dialing my assistant. When he answers, I speak in rapid Russian. "Bring me a suitcase from the vault. The large one." I hang up without waiting for a response.
