Devil's Lair (Molotov Obsession #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,5

of the mountain.

Sure enough, as I round the next bend, the sleek two-story mansion comes into view.

An ultra-modern marvel of glass and steel, it should stand out like a sore thumb among all this untamed nature, but instead, it’s skillfully integrated into its surroundings, with a portion of the house built into a rocky outcropping. As I pull up in front of it, I see an all-glass terrace wrapping around the back and realize that the house is perched on a cliff overlooking a deep ravine.

The views inside must be to kill for.

Deep breath, Chloe. You can do it.

Turning off the car, I smooth my sweaty palms over my jeans, straighten my shirt, make sure my hair is still in a neat bun, and grab the resume I printed out at the library. I usually interview well, but I’ve never had so much at stake before. Every nerve in my body is on edge, my heart pounding so fast I feel dizzy. Of course, I could also be dizzy because all I’ve had to eat today is the banana, but I don’t want to think about that and the fact that if I don’t get the job, hunger may be the least of my problems.

Resume in hand, I step out of the car. I’m about a half hour early, which is better than being late but not optimal. I was afraid I’d get lost without a GPS, so I left the library and headed over here as soon as the librarian explained where to go and gave me a local map. I didn’t get lost, though, so now all I need is to walk over to that sleek, futuristic-looking front door and ring the doorbell.

Steeling my spine, I prepare to do exactly that when the door swings open, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in a pair of dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Hi,” I say, putting on a bright smile as I walk toward him. “I’m Chloe Emmons, here to interview for the…” I stop, my breath catching in my lungs as he steps out into the light and a pair of stunning hazel eyes meets mine.

Except “hazel” is too generic a term for them. I’ve never seen eyes like that. A rich, dark amber mixed with forest green, they’re surrounded by thick black lashes and glitter with a peculiar fierceness, an intensity that wouldn’t look out of place on a jungle predator. Tiger eyes, belonging to a man who himself is power and danger personified—a man so cruelly handsome my already-elevated heart rate goes supersonic.

High, wide cheekbones, a straight blade of a nose, jaw sharp enough to cut marble—the sheer symmetry of those striking features would’ve been enough for them to grace the covers of magazines, but when combined with that full, cynically curved mouth, the effect is absolutely devastating. Like his lashes, his eyebrows are thick and black, as is his hair, which is long enough to cover his ears and so straight it looks like a raven’s wing.

Closing the distance between us with long, smooth strides, he extends his hand toward me. “Nikolai Molotov,” he says, pronouncing the name as a Russian native would—though there’s no trace of accent in his deep, rough-silk voice. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

4

Chloe

Dumbstruck, I shake his hand. It’s big and strong, his lightly tanned skin warm as his long fingers wrap around mine and squeeze with carefully restrained power. A shiver ripples down my spine at the sensation, my body heating all over, and it takes everything I have not to sway toward him as my knees turn to jelly underneath me.

Get a grip, Chloe. This is a potential employer. Get a fucking grip.

With a herculean effort, I pull my hand away and reach for what remains of my composure. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Molotov.” To my relief, my voice comes out steady, my tone calm and friendly, as befits a person interviewing for a job. Taking a half-step back, I smile up at my host. “I’m sorry I’m a bit early.”

His tiger eyes gleam brighter. “No problem. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Chloe. And please, call me Nikolai.”

“Nikolai,” I repeat, my stupid heartbeat accelerating further. I don’t understand what’s happening to me, why I’m having this reaction to this man. I’ve never been one to lose my mind over a chiseled jaw and washboard abs, not even when I was a hormonal teenager. While