I sag against the car, suddenly exhausted. Andrey, on the other hand, looks effortlessly calm and utterly composed. But a lopsided, borderline cruel smile simmers on his lips as he leans in, his breath hot against my cheek.
“Oh, you’re mine, lastochka. You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
The nerve of that man.
You just haven’t accepted it. I’ve been repeating that in my head the entire drive to work, getting more pissed off every time.
The problem is, I’m also getting more and more turned on.
It’s as much of a headache as it sounds, believe me.
I’m still fuming when we pull up outside the ugly brown building that’s home to Sunshield Insurance. As soon as I step foot out of the car, my four new shadows swarm me, a wall of man-meat in every direction.
“So much for being discreet,” I mu
