Page 69 of Boardroom Sins

His tuxedo is midnight blue satin. His dark hair is slicked back. His gray eyes burn as he rakes them up and down my body, then shudders imperceptibly.

“For God’s sake, Kir.” I press a hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry, though. He plucks my nearly empty glass from my hand and replaces it with a fresh one from a passing server’s tray. “You looked like you needed a refill.”

“Thanks. I do.”

He looks me up and down again, though with a little less heat in his eyes the second time around. “Red,” he says at last. “Bold choice.”

“Your father’s choice, actually.”

A shadow passes over his face. “Of course it was.” He takes a hearty sip of his own drink. “Well, you’re here now. Let’s make sure my father gets his money’s worth.”

23

RAE

EMPLOYMENT AGREEMENT - ADDENDUM 3.31(b)

Employee acknowledges that all personal time, thoughts, and bodily autonomy may be subject to Employer's discretion. Employee waives right to object.

Initial here: _______

Kir steers me through the crowd with his palm nestled against the small of my back. The fierce warmth of his hand against my bare skin is a crazy contrast to his father’s iciness. Even from across the room, with his back to me, Lukas’s chill makes me shiver. I’m almost glad I have the son next to me to keep me warm.

“Smile,” he urges out of the side of his mouth. “People are watching.”

I force my lips to curve upward. “How’s this?”

“If you’re going for ‘I have indigestion,’ you’re killing it.”

I mock gasp. “How dare you mock my GI issues!”

He chuckles. “Breathe, Rae. Relax. You look stunning, so if people are watching, you can hardly blame them.”

I blush and shrivel up at the same time. Near the bar, a group of women are indeed eyeing me with that mixture of apprehension, jealousy, and admiration that catty girls always do to new variables in their environment. It’s so strange to me how men seem never to notice it.

But, as is to be expected, when I glance their direction, all three blonde heads swivel away in unison.

“I feel like I’m in a fish bowl,” I mumble.

“In a way, you are,” Kir agrees with a laugh.

“Does that make me the fish or the fish food?”

We stop near a towering ice sculpture shaped like a towering LG, the Lazarev Global logo. Kir considers my question. “Both, I think. Depends who’s watching.”

A server glides past with a tray of something wrapped in bacon. Kir snags two and hands me one.

“Eat,” he says. “You need something in your stomach. The champagne here is stronger than it seems.”

He might be onto something, because now that he mentions it, Iamfeeling a little woozy and giddy. Or maybe it’s just that I’m a lightweight and I just guzzled two glasses in about as many minutes.

I take a bite. It’s some kind of scallop. Delicious, obviously. That kinda goes without saying in a place like this.

“So,” I say between munches, “what exactly am I supposed to be doing here tonight?”

“Looking beautiful on my arm, apparently.” He pops his own appetizer into his mouth. “Since my father seems determined to ignore you.”