“How the fuck did you get in here?” he snaps.
I shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “Friends in high places.” Then, watching as the girl leans back into Andrej and slides up and down his chest like a bear scratching its back against a tree, I add, “Or low ones, maybe.”
His laugh is mean. “You don’t have any friends.”
“Will you be joining us?” the woman asks.
Before I can answer and tell her definitely not, Andrej says, “Yes, she is.” Then, he pats the seat beside him. “I’m guessing you’re here to get the job back. Sit. We’ll…talk.”
I know there won’t be a lot of talking and that he’s just trying to make me uncomfortable. But I want to show him that I’m not scared and that he can’t push me away so easily. So, I skirt my way around the stripper even as she thrusts her breasts out at me and sit beside Andrej, crossing my legs at the ankles and tucking my hands beneath me.
“Say what you came to say,” Andrej demands without looking at me. Even so, I can smell the alcohol on his breath.
I glance at the stripper. She’s straddling his lap and pushing her boobs together in his face. “Now?”
Andrej’s hands hover over the stripper’s hips, not quite touching her. “Now.”
“Why did you fire us?”
The stripper purses her lips. “Ooh, harsh.”
“I’m not paying you to talk,” Andrej scolds her.
I cringe, but the stripper just winks at me. She must be used to jerks at the Oakwood Club.
“It was obvious yesterday that you and I can’t work together.”
“That’s why I put my father in charge,” I say.
He doesn’t touch her, but she dances delectably over his body, teasing all the places I want to touch. He leans back and watches as her hands hover closer to his belt, trail over it, and grab his thighs. I’ve never put my hands on anyone in violence before, but I have the sudden urge to grab her hair and yank her away from him.
As I watch, his dick grows hard, creating a ridge in his pants. When I look up at him, startled, I see him watching me instead of the almost naked woman in front of him.
He leans close to me, his lips grazing my ear even as the stripper kneels between his legs. “Does it make you wet?” he asks.
I nearly choke on my own saliva. “I’m sorry, what?”
The stripper stands, turns around, and shakes her ass in his face, but he isn’t paying any attention to her. That fact alone makes me feel a little bold even in the face of my discomfort. His hand lands on my thigh and slides up my skirt, stopping just before the junction of my legs. I resist the urge to part my legs for him.
“I still remember how you taste,” he whispers.
His finger grazes my slit, and my hand clamps down on his wrist. “No.”
He goes deathly still. “No?”
“I’m here to get my job back,” I say. “We had a contract. You know we’re the best. You’re making a big mistake.”
Shaking free of my grip, he pulls his hand away and leans back on the couch. His eyes find the stripper again, who’s doing pole tricks in the absence of our attention. I’m sure that he’s dismissed me and I’m about to stand to leave when he speaks again.
“The only way I’ll take you and your company back is if you’ll work as my personal maid for the time that the rest of your crew is working on the house.”
“Your personal maid?” This is a power-play. I told him I don’t clean anymore. But he’s trying to regain some semblance of control even as the walls he’s built are crumbling. An urge to play his game takes over, and I discreetly undo two more buttons of my silky black blouse. It’s risqué, especially for someone like me, but I can’t help hoping it will be worth it.
“And you can’t say no to me. To any of my requests.”
“Cleaning requests?” I clarify. “That fall within the duties of a housekeeper.”
“Fine,” he says. He finally turns his gaze on me. His dark blue eyes flash with brief amusement and then growing heat as he notices my exposed curves. “Though I highly doubt you’ll have the strength to say no to me on anything else, either. You never have.”
“We’ll see.” Knowing that continuing the conversation won’t get us anywhere, I stand and leave, a little extra swing in my hips. A soft groan sounds behind me, and I hide a grin. I’ve never said no to him because I never wanted to—not then and not now. He’s always been my weakness, but I’ve also always been his, no matter how much he tries to deny it.
Chapter Seven
Andrej
With the estate sale over, I’m officially back at my place in the city while the cleaning crew finishes the rest of the house. My place downtown is on the top floor of a high-rise building. It’s modern—all white furniture, metal fixtures, and sharp corners. A far cry from the Novak estate, which is the whole point.
I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet, which is why when there’s banging on my door at seven o’clock in the morning that rivals only my throbbing headache, my hackles immediately raise. I swear to God, let it be a salesman or one of my nosy-ass neighbors, and I’ll rip them a new asshole. I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet.
I stalk through the house in just my boxers and throw open the door without bothering to check the peephole. That’s how she catches me off-guard. Again. Fucking Valya Strakova. Her dark hair is pulled up in a messy bun and she’s wearing that shapeless polo shirt. I want to rip it off of her. Maybe I will.
“What do you want?” I snap, trying to hide my shock at seeing her here.
“I’m here to be your maid,” she says, raising her arms to show two buckets full of cleaning supplies. “Elya gave me your address.”
To be frank, our conversation at the club is barely a blur. After realizing that I couldn’t be present at the estate sale, I put Elya in charge and decided instead to drown my feelings at the Club. The Lounge had been too dull, the poker tables were practically empty, and there was no one I wanted to take to the dungeon. So, I’d settled on the strip club, where I hired Cherry for a private dance so I didn’t have to sit out at the bar with all the other day drinkers. I’d already finished several drinks when Valya had appeared, taunting me with her disapproval.
When I’d woken up this morning, my head throbbing, I hadn’t even been sure any of it was real. Her showing up on my doorstep, though, clears things up for me.
I look her up and down with disdain. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
She looks down at herself. “My uniform.” Then, raising an eyebrow at me, she asks, “What are you wearing?”
I make no move to cover myself. She’s on my territory, after all. “Tomorrow, I’ll expect you to wear something more appropriate.” I wave a hand at her dismissively and move away from the door, leaving it open for her. “Black dress. Apron. The works.”
She follows me inside. “Maids don’t wear things like that anymore.”
Pausing, I turn back and glare at her. “Are you saying no to me?”
Her lips twist and I can tell she’s trying to decide if this command falls under her cleaning duties. “I’ll see what I can do,” she finally concedes.