Page 14 of Savage Little Lies

“Anyway…my whole point was having secret compartments in the antique furniture to store your packages,” I tell him as my cheeks burn.

“I know a pretty good craftsman. I’ll talk to him and see if he can make some modifications or make me some new pieces specifically for transportation,” Dmitri replies with a nod, looking pleased. He then stands and walks over to my side of the table, resting his hand on the back of my chair as he leans down. “What pieces of furniture do I currently have available?”

His cologne settles around me, dark, spicy, and expensive. It smells intoxicating and has me picturing him relaxing in a cigar room full of rich assholes drinking an old-fashioned.

“Um, two dressers, a headboard, a wardrobe, two dining tables, and…a nightstand,” I say, hearing air puff out of his nose in amusement. “Now that I think about it, that probably wasn’t an appropriate story for me to share with my boss. I apologize.”

Dmitri shakes his head as he looks down at me. “Don’t. Your story was…inspiring.”

I can’t help the genuine laugh that bursts from me, my hand immediately flying to my mouth to try to stifle it. “Inspiring. That’s kind of you to say. I was thinking embarrassing.”

Dmitri smirks. “I think it showed that you’ve always been clever. It seems I did hire the right person for the job.”

My heart pounds wildly as we gaze at each other, the air between us feeling hot and electric. Heated and magnetic. If he wanted to, he could so easily lean down a few inches and kiss me.

For a moment, as his stormy blue eyes roam around my face, I think that he’ll try.

Until his phone starts ringing.

His jaw visibly tenses as he steps away from me, killing the tension in the air. He digs his phone out of his pants pocket and answers. “What? Yes. Third floor.”

As he talks on the phone, I take the time to gather myself, wishing that I could fan my blazing red face without drawing attention to myself. I didn’t expect things to get so intimate so quickly, but I guess I’m doing a good job acting on my plan.

Maybe I’m not as rusty as I thought I was at flirting.

“Food is here,” Dmitri tells me as he pockets his phone. “I’ll go get it. Grab that pen and circle all the pieces of furniture on the inventory list.”

I look where he’s pointing and spot a black pen on the table in the middle of the other documents. “Yes, sir.”

Once he steps out of the room, I grab the pen and get on with my task, my pulse steadily going back to normal. That moment when I thought he was going to kiss me lingers in the back of my mind, though.

I haven’t even thought about what I’ll do if he initiates physical contact. I guess I’ll need to play along. How far will I have to possibly take this?

“You’re not allergic to peanuts, right?”

Dmitri’s question jars me out of my thoughts. Thoughts of him, shirtless, the muscles in his arms flexing when he pins my wrists above my head and kisses me like the world’s on fire. “Sorry, what?”

Dmitri places a plastic bag of takeout boxes on the table. “I like this Thai place, but there are peanuts in the Pad Thai. I should’ve asked.”

I’m surprised that he even cares, but I guess he wouldn’t want to lose his new assistant to anaphylaxis in the middle of the office.

“I’m not allergic,” I tell him as I watch him open the bag and distribute two to-go boxes between us. It smells incredible, enough to make my stomach quietly growl. I’ve been so busy today with meetings and errands that I only had a snack for lunch.

Dmitri sits across from me again, making my side of the table feel particularly empty and cold. “Did you pick out the furniture?”

It looks like we’re back to business. That’s honestly probably for the best.

“Yes. What’s next?” I ask him as I pull my laptop closer to me, positioning it next to my dinner.

Dmitri copies me, getting set up for however long we’re going to be here tonight. “Find several examples of secret compartment furniture. I want to give my carpenter some inspiration.”

“I’m on it.”

I can’t help but feel a flicker of pride in my chest knowing that he’s on board with my idea, even if he’s the enemy. My father never let me have any say when it comes to business matters. I’m supposed to just keep quiet and fall in line until I can be useful to him as a bride.

With Dmitri, it feels like I actually have a voice or at least a little bit of influence on what he does next.

But I can’t let my own feelings get to my head. This isn’t about me.