“Ivan?”
“I will take care of it.”
“How?” The word is filled with anxiety.
“Do not worry about it. Do not bother Gemma with any of this. I will not have her joy ruined by the little brat.”
“Mishi isn’t a brat. She’s just young and naïve. It’s not her fault you’re disgustingly gorgeous and magnificent up close. Add in you’re a billionaire and you’re more appealing than a royal. Give her a break.”
“She is twenty-five years old, more than old enough to know better. It has been two years of her insipid overtures. The last time I was in Manchester I made it crystal fucking clear there was nothing between us, would never be anything between us.” For the first time, I had not been simply rude with a woman but downright cruel, losing all patience with Mishka. How she could possibly think I would want her is beyond my comprehension.
“Her parents have given her her way far too often. She is spoiled. I am not a toy in a shop. Even the way she is going about it is telling. She is counting on her parents putting pressure on me to marry her for catching her in my bed. This is not the Victorian age. I am not nor have I ever been concerned about convention.”
Her sigh is heavy. “Not convention, but you would do whatever you could for me and Gemma’s happiness. Mishi knows that, it’s what she’s counting on. What are you going to do, Ivan?”
“I told you, I will handle it. It no longer concerns you. I will see you Sunday.”
“Love you.”
“I love you too.” Ending the call, I push away from my desk. Stalking the length of the office, I consider the problem of Mishka.
Turning, I find Christina at the threshold of my office. Her eyes wide, instantly I am hard for her. Today she is in an emerald shirt dress, the collar up but unbuttoned to just between her breasts. If that were not bad enough, despite the length there are slits at both sides, showing the skin of her thighs with every step.
“What the fuck do you want?” I bite out aggressively, the sensation of being cornered at all fronts loosening the grip of my control.
“Fuck you. I came in here to offer you a proposal I have been working on, but if you’re just going to be a dick than screw it.” She turns to leave. It was my intention, to get her to go away, only it is not what I really want.
“I apologize.”
She stops. Turning back to face me, her eyes roam over me. “Are you okay?”
The words stun me, touch a hollow deep inside I thought was buried so deep nothing could touch it. No one has asked me that question before, not since I was ten years old in casualty as the emergency team worked to allow me to breathe, to ease the pain I was in. Her concern is clear, the little furrow between her eyes is there again. Hazel darkens to moss and once again I am fascinated by the way her beautiful eyes change with her emotions
“Do you want to talk about it?” She shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave you the proposal for you to review when you have time.”
Step by step she is backing away. I do not even realize I am following her until she is close enough for me to reach out and grasp the front of the dress she is wearing. Fisting the silk, I use it to pull her to me. “I do not want to talk.”
Her tongue slides out to trace her bottom lip. “We don’t have to talk. I’m okay with not talking. But if you kiss me only to push me away again, I can’t guarantee I won’t get violent.”
I cannot contain my amusement at her threat. There is no doubt in my mind she will follow through with her warning. A beep, then Tim’s voice comes through my phone asking if I am available for Denise. I let her go.
“Close the door on your way out. Once I am done with Denise, hold my calls and no interruptions until I say otherwise. I need some time with a problem.” Back at my desk, I tell Tim to put Denise through.
“I have three more candidates today. I’m sure one of them is the one.”
“Bring the files up, leave them with Tim. I will review them later. Right now, I am busy.”
She stutters as I end the call. I am not in the mood to deal with her or what is becoming an endless search for my new assistant. Tension is building again at the base of my neck, another headache is impending. For the last two weeks they have hit me nearly every other day.
This Christina problem is getting to me. My sleep is shit, and my temper is fraying at the slightest thing. I give in this time to take the over-the-counter pain medication, it is too early in the day to try and work through it. As I do Christina’s file from Valdez slides into sight beside the bottle.
Valdez had followed the electronic file with a hard copy the next day. I had stashed it in my desk, proud of not opening it. All over again I wonder what it is about her that has turned me into someone I do not recognize. Why her?
Opening the file, I read through it slowly, wondering if the answer is here. As it had the first time I saw it, the picture of Christina with her ex-fiancé turns my stomach. From the smug smile on his face to the tiny chip of a diamond, he had not deserved the privilege of calling her his for even the two years he did. If it had been me, I would have put a ring on her finger the size of a boulder, something to warn all others she belonged to someone who knew her worth.
Sonofabitch. I have the answer to the Mishka problem, to all my problems.