Chapter 16: Devil’s Lair: Chapter 16

“I was looking for you,” Nikolai continues, approaching with a panther-soft stride. “Pavel said you were upstairs with Slava.”

I swallow hard as he stops in front of me. “Yes, I just came down here for a moment to throw in some laundry. I hope that’s okay.” Despite my best efforts, my voice wavers, and it’s all I can do not to step back in an effort to put more space between us. Not that he’s overly close—at least three feet separate us—but now that I know the smell of his cologne, I can pick up the subtle cedar and bergamot notes in the air, and my memory fills in the rest, from the heat coming off his skin to the hard contours of his body pressing against me. And that big, thick bulge… My knees wobble, and I almost sway toward him but catch myself at the last moment, stiffening my legs and spine.

A dark heat invades his gaze, and I know he’s noticed my reaction. My cheeks burn and my heart hammers faster, icy-hot prickles running over my skin.

Why is he here?

Why was he looking for me?

Why did he shut that door?

“Yes, of course, that’s not a problem.” His voice is soft and deep, that unsettling heat still in his eyes. “You’re living here now, so think of this as your home.”

“I will, thank you.” Dammit, now I sound all husky and breathless. Pulling myself together with effort, I give him my best model-employee smile. “I was actually going to ask you something. Do I have a work schedule? That is, are there any specific times you’d like me to work with Slava? Ideally, I’d like to teach him throughout the day, as opposed to having formal lessons, but if you prefer otherwise, I’m flexible.”

There, that’s better. I actually managed to steady my voice and sound semi-professional. Hopefully, that’ll remind him I’m here to teach his son, not melt at his smoldering stare like—well, probably like every straight woman he’s ever met.

Another wickedly sensual smile touches his lips. “It’s up to you, zaychik. Your pupil, your methods. All I’m after are the results. The only thing I ask is that you join our family for mealtimes, so Pavel and Lyudmila don’t need to cook and clean extra.”

“Yes, of course. What time are breakfast and lunch?” Now I feel bad that I made Lyudmila give me those crepes; as late as I woke up, I could’ve waited until the next scheduled meal.

“We usually eat breakfast at eight and lunch at twelve-thirty. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely.” If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past month, it’s that food, anytime, anywhere, of any variety, works for me.

A full stomach is something I’ll never take for granted again.

“Good. Then I’ll see you at lunch today.” He turns to walk away, and I exhale a shaky breath, again relieved and perversely disappointed—only to have my heart miss a beat as he stops and faces me again.

“Almost forgot,” he says, eyes gleaming. “Your new clothes are getting delivered this afternoon. Pavel will bring them up to your room, and I’d appreciate it if you wore one of the dresses for dinner.”

“Oh, sure. Thank you. I will.” One of the dresses? How many did he buy? And how is he getting them delivered so fast? I’m dying to ask, but I don’t want to prolong this nerve-racking encounter.

I’m still cognizant of that closed door.

“Good. Let me know if something doesn’t fit.” His gaze travels over my body, and the icy-hot prickles return, my breathing turning shallow as my nipples tighten in my bra. Another thin cotton bra that’s doing little to hide my reaction. My face burns with the heat of a thousand suns, and as his eyes meet mine again, I feel the shift in the atmosphere, sense the air taking on that dangerously electric charge.

Mouth dry, I take a half step back, though what I really want is to lean toward him. The pull is so strong it’s like a physical force—and judging by the way his jaw flexes as he watches my retreat, I’m not alone in experiencing it.

Run, Chloe. Get out.

Mom’s voice is quieter this time, less urgent, but it clears away some of the haze in my brain. Gathering the withering shreds of my willpower, I take another step back and say as evenly as I can manage, “Thank you. I will.”

His nostrils flare, and I again have the sense of being in the presence of something dangerous… something dark and savage that lurks underneath Nikolai’s urbane veneer.

“All right,” he says softly. “Good luck with your laundry, zaychik. I’ll see you soon.”

And opening the door, he walks out.