Page 20 of Savage Boss
Dmitri rises without a word, his gaze never leaving mine. His silence, combined with my aggressive, legally air-tight intervention,shuts upthe three men in the room, and no one protests as we leave.
Dean is waiting for us just outside the door. He leans against the wall, now a picture of calm, cool restraint. Nothing is left of his earlier fury, save for a burning in his dark eyes only I can see because I’m so practiced at looking for it. It’s there because I systematically demolishedhis attempt to corner, manipulate, and ultimately crush me.
I barely spare him a glance as we pass, but Dmitri drops back. Startled, I turn to look at him. He looks my ex up and down, weighing and measuring him, before a wolfish smile, slow and contemptuous, spreads across his lips. It’s the smile of a man who understands power on a level Dean never will. Dmitri also understands that he won this round. His body language is relaxed as he slips his hands into his pockets and stares Dean down in casual victory.
He looks Dean dead in the eye and says, “You came to my place of business to prove how big you are, Detective Johnson,” his voice a low rumble, menacing in its hush. “Turns out Clara didn’t need me to defend her from you, after all, you piece of shit. You lost one hell of a woman.”
With that, Dmitri places a hand at the small of my back and guides me out.
I feelDean’sgaze on my back like heat from a fire, but I keep walking. The doors slide open, the cold, chaotic, beautiful freedom of the city greeting us. My adrenaline starts to recede the farther we get from the precinct. Dmitri speaks in rapid Russian to someone over the phone. I’m guessing he’s ordering a car.
I feel a deep, weary satisfaction.
I won.
But the victory doesn’t feel quite as shiny as it should, because there is still the nagging knowledge, growing brighter and brighter, that I am standing beside the head of a major criminal enterprise.
I hate that Dean was right.
10
CLARA
“Turn right at the light.”
I point to the next street up, which is my street. This late on such a frigid night, no one is out. Cars are parked in lonely pools of yellow light from the streetlamps. Leave it to Dmitri to find an open space just up from my building. I wish the world would open up for me that way.
Then again, I wouldn’t want to sell my soul like he has.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Thank you for springing me from the police station.” Amusement flashes in his ice-blue eyes, a ghost of a smile hovering around his lips. It’s hard to look away. It’s hard not to feel the rumble of his deep baritone in my bones.
Damn it. Damn him.
I push the door open and step out of the low-slungsports car. A young man who spoke Russian and had tattoossnaking out from under the cuffs and collar of his ill-fitting suit had dropped it off a block from the police station.
I didn’t ask howhewas supposed to get home from there, even though I was curious. I supposed he’d take the subway, which is what I was planning to do until Dmitri said, “I will take you home.” I had been too tired to argue, all the adrenaline replaced by a bone-weary exhaustion from the events of the day.
But now that I’m in the car, I’m suddenly incredibly aware of the man sitting beside me. This large, intimidating manwho, along with being the billionaire CEO of the company I work for, is most likely the boss of a Russian crime syndicate.
The ride to my apartment gives me time to think. Random memories and clues come to mind, and I realize what I saw in the moment the switch flipped, when that police officer manhandled me. That was the moment Dmitri’s calm, cool exterior disappeared in a blaze of rage, revealing something that was terrifyinglyprimal,violent, and possessive. A part of me already knew this man was dangerous on some level. I just didn’t realize how dangerous, how powerful and violent he could be.
I feel like a fool. A terrible, idiotic fool who fell for those ice-blue eyes and those defined muscles that, even now, I can’t ignore as they press so deliciously against his button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, inked forearms.
“I can walk from here,” I tell him, tearing my eyes away as the frosty air slips into the car with a gusty breeze. Bare branches rustle as I step out of the car, and the chilled wind hits me full force. My coat is still at the office, and I shiver. “Thanks for the ride.”
When I close the door, I hear a beep, like the car is being locked and armed.
“I said I can walk from here.” The words come out sharper than I intended.
“Yes, I’m sure you can. But I’m still going to walk with you.” Dmitri sweeps past me like he knows where he’s going, and I have to hurry to catch up. When I do, I pull on his arm to signal him to stop.
“I’m telling you I can get to my apartment alone.”
Dmitri looks down at my hand on his arm, then at my face. “And I’m telling you that I’m sure you can, but I’m still walking you to the door.”
I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and all I want is for this day to be over, to crawl into bed, and forget I ever had wild sex with the head of a Russian mafiasyndicate.
