his muscles, and his extortionate suits that scream wealth and power. Yeah, he uses it to his advantage in the way a beautiful woman uses that to hers. He’s catnip to women, and a triple threat to other men.
“Cassie, come with me,” he orders before stalking off, making me rush to catch up.
I throw a glance at Suzy who gives me wide-open, alarmed eyes in return.
Hustling after Konstantin I watch everyone’s eyes swivel our way.
“Morning, Mr. Silvanov,” one of the secretaries says as she walks by.
He grunts something unintelligible in return.
Oh, he’s a real ray of sunshine this morning.
When we get to his office, he pulls me inside by the crook of my arm and closes the door.
He rakes a hand through his hair, and then down his face, rubbing at his chin. He looks like a man who is having a shitty time of it, and despite my newfound dislike of him, it tugs my heartstrings for a moment. Before I remind myself not to be that girl. The one who thinks she can save the fucked-up man and make him all happy and whole. You can’t make someone else whole; they have to do that for themselves, and there’s something missing at Konstantin’s core that no amount of love from a good woman can cure.
After a long moment where he says nothing, and I start to feel distinctly uncomfortable, he walks away from me and looks out the window, hands held behind his back, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean hips. It’s a pity his broken soul comes in such a picture-perfect package.
“I owe you an explanation,” he says, gruffly. “I’m not a man who normally spends time worrying about others or my impact on them, but you seem to bring out a soft as shit side in me.”
Soft as shit? I bite back my disbelieving laugh.
“The thing is, Cassie, I’m not a man who plays games. I liked you … like you. You’re a breath of fresh air, and so different to most of the women I get involved with. I thought maybe we could have some fun together, but things have changed. There’s a ton of shit going on in my personal life that means I don’t have time or space for that kind of thing now. This is nothing to do with you; it is, as the cliché so aptly says, all about me.”
He hasn’t turned around, and I’m not sure what he expects me to say. Does he want absolution? It’s not as if he broke my heart. We aren’t an item. He was my secret crush; still is if I’m honest. Now, though, I know he’s a mess, probably more of a mess than me. Plus, he’s cold and ruthless, and I’m not sure I like him enough, or trust him enough, to go there with him even if the offer was still on the table.
Oh, I want to. But I have a strong streak of self-preservation. Having a mother who couldn’t deal with life at all will do that for you. So, while my libido might want to throw her clothes off and lie on the bland beige table separating us, while I beg him to take me, my mind knows he’s a bad idea.
Konstantin Silvanov is not a good bet for any woman, and certainly not for someone as emotionally fragile as me.
“It’s fine,” I say. Then I lie. I don’t lie often, I suck at it, but today, I lie with the best of them. “I’m seeing someone.”
He whips around. “Since when?”
“Since this weekend.” I plaster a bright smile on my face. “So, you see, it all worked out for the best. Now, do you still want me to do this job for you?”
He starts to chuckle.
What’s so funny?
“You sound like a gangster from a bad B movie.”
“What’s a B movie?”
His smile drips from his face. “So young. A B movie, jailbait, is a second-class film. Most often played before the main feature, during the golden era of Hollywood.”
“You like old movies,” I say it as a statement because either this is another fact I knew about him and filed away, or it’s something I’ve guessed, the way I can guess he probably uses extortionate toiletries at the same time he decries metro-sexuality.
“Yes, I like old movies. Although, they always portrayed my people as cold or evil, and nothing is further from the truth about Russians.”
“What are Russians like?” I ask, side-tracked for a moment. I’ve read a lot of