The Director - Renee Rose Page 0,3

belly a pointed look.

She draws herself up taller, the muscles in the front of her neck going stiff. “It’s not yours,” she blurts as color suffuses her face. Her pupils are tiny points of fear.

The lie hits me square in the chest. I was right. She didn’t want me to know the existence of this child.

I cock my head. “Why lie?”

Her neck and chest spread with color, too, but she keeps her voice as even and low as mine. “I know what you are, Ravil. I don’t believe your”—she clears her throat for emphasis— “profession lends itself to fatherhood. I won’t ask for child support. Don’t ask for visitation. Don’t make me prove in a courtroom why you’re unfit to parent.”

My upper lip curls at her threat. I am a man who’s reached the top of my organization and this city with quick, emotionless thinking. I don’t usually take offense. I don’t usually make things personal.

But this time, it’s fucking personal. Lucy Lawrence thinks I’m unfit to parent my child? She thinks she’ll keep this child from me?

Fuck. That.

I give her a smile that promises retribution. “Don’t worry, counselor. I won’t ask.”

I’ll take.

“I look forward to seeing you again.” I pack everything into my words—innuendo and warning—and she reads it all.

Chapter 2

Lucy

I lean on my desk after Ravil and his young bratva soldier leave my office and breathe deeply.

Not yogic breathing. More like the kind of frantic panting to keep from passing out.

What are the fucking chances?

After all my concern that my best friend Gretchen would tell someone at the Black Light and that it would somehow get back to Master R, my partner from that night, he ends up in my office purely by chance.

A referral from Italian mafia kingpin Paolo Tacone.

Gretchen will call it fate when I tell her. She believes in the Universe delivering your highest good and all that crap. She also told me I had an obligation to tell Ravil about my pregnancy.

But I had a very good reason not to.

God, I don’t know if I played that right. Threatening a Russian mafiya kingpin probably wasn’t my smartest move.

And I definitely offended him.

But maybe he has no interest in the child. For all I know, he could be married. Or hate kids. Or agree with me that his profession doesn’t lend itself to fatherhood.

A shiver runs across my skin remembering the way he held my hand way too long. How I turned into a doe in the headlights, his masculine magnetism making me weak in the knees even when I know I should run.

I definitely shouldn’t have lied. It’s not my style and insulted his intelligence. There was no way he didn’t guess it’s his. I remember him being extraordinarily perceptive. Knowing how I’d react to his every suggestion before I did. Planning our scenes together with every nuance of perfect timing and action to coax my surrender.

I also remember him choking a man for saying something disrespectful about me.

Ravil is dangerous. Lethal, even. He’s in the bratva or Russian mafiya. I knew it when I met him at Black Light by the tattoos that cover his skin. He’s probably high up, considering the Russian diplomat he was at the Black Light with. He operates outside the laws I spend my day tap dancing around. He takes what he wants.

I don’t mind lethal in a client. I’ve been exposed to the Tacone family since I passed the bar. Part of me finds the power and danger they wield exhilarating. I found it just as thrilling in a play partner at Black Light. Until the violence unfolded before my eyes. That was when I used my safe word and walked.

And I definitely mind it in the father of my son. Someone filling the actual role of father, not just the sperm-donor part. As a sperm donor, Ravil Baranov is perfect. I don’t know his medical history, but he’s physically fit and good-looking with piercing blue eyes, fair hair, and a body built of solid muscle. He’s also highly intelligent.

He’s just not the sort of man I want as a role model for our son.

Dammit.

Now I’m on pins and needles, waiting for his reaction. Will he try to insert himself into this pregnancy, or will he walk away? He’s in the driver’s seat with me anticipating the sky falling.

And I do fear it could fall.

I just don’t know how. Or when.

Ravil

“It’s a boy.” Dima—the best hacker on this continent and Russia’s— winks at me over the top