Dimitri

Don’t go too far, but don’t sit idly by, either.

My father’s words that were once directed at our stance on business are now ringing through my mind in a moment I never saw coming today. Besides her being in that rather blasé business attire earlier, she had the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen, the light shading them into caramel but when my shadow swallowed her beautiful face, she has this new green tint to her irises that makes me catch fire.

My veins are throbbing, my b***d is on a rampage, and there was no way I was going to sit still while she was outside in this tiny skirt. Now I get to run my hands all over her backside, her a*s perfectly in my hands while her lips cling to mine. To my surprise, she invades my mouth with her tongue first, hiking one leg up so her skirt, in turn, rolls up her thighs and exposes the sweet thong underneath.

I’m dying now, needing this woman.

I’ve taken us to a spare green room in the back, soundproof for musicians to throw their tantrums before the show, but I’ve locked us inside, only a lamp or two clicked on before she came to me. I notice her drink nearby, seeing it nearly empty except for the ice on the bottom that is melted.

Part of me knows we should stop here, this interaction derailing very quickly, but I can physically feel her heat and her desire in this moment. She wants me and I want her.

But no, this passion in her touch is more than that.

She needs me.

Her body is so petite in my hands, her moaning into my throat only driving my nerves off a damn cliff. I can’t help but feel her wither and writhe in my arms, grabbing my shirt like she’s willing to rip it off my chest. Meanwhile, I can’t say that I feel comfortable undoing her skirt and what’s left of her shirt with the taint of alcohol on her breath.

I really did just want to get her alone because she’s new and interesting—but I don’t intend on taking advantage of a woman in this halfway state between drunk and sober.

When she presses her pelvis into mine, I’m almost certain she can feel my e******n. I bite down on her bottom l*p, tasting the twinge of gin on her lips. She must not be used to drinking hard liquor, her body unsure of her footing while I hold her and run my palms over her back. I use that trail of my hands to yank her skirt down, watching her hiss in shock.

“Ah, what are you doing?”

I bring my fingertips to the front, making sure the waistband of her skirt is perfectly placed around her lower abdomen and covering that thong I thought about taking off of her with my teeth. Pushing that salacious thought aside, I adjust her shirt next to make sure her nipple won’t poke out over the cups in her bra.

If it does, I might rethink my valiant behavior tonight just so I can set my teeth on her breasts and hear her squirm with another m**n.

“You’re too drunk for this,” I mutter, standing straight while she seems far more concerned that I kept her clothes on her body than if I had ripped them all over and let her naked in heels. F**k, I warn myself. Stop thinking about that shit. “I can’t sleep with a woman intoxicated.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, clearly offended. “I’m not drunk. I had one shot.”

I press my hand against her shoulder, hardly even touching her at all, and watch her fall back into the couch. She growls in frustration, kicking her heels off and coming back to a still unsteady stance. She’s even shorter without her heels, only coming up to my neck where she glares at me from her tiny mountain of a soap box.

“You can’t tell me I’m drunk when I’ve had one shot,” she demands. “Besides, I’m not even supposed to be back here with you.”

“So, you agree with me, then?”

Her dark brows knit. “What?”

“You agree that we shouldn’t be getting this hot and heavy together, right?”

She seems tripped by her own words now. “I didn’t… I just meant… ugh!” She stomps towards the door, realizes it’s locked, and doesn’t know how to undo it. Then she forgets her heels on the floor nearby, comes back to take them in her hands, and gives me a glaring look of stress. “I should go. You’re right.”

I cross my arms, curious now. “Why do you say that? You just told me you’re not drunk, Kitten.”

“I’m not, and I’m not a Kitten either.”

“I’m fully aware of that.”

“I’m also Alek’s new hire. It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to… well, to even be in here together.”

“Relax, Kitten,” I say, managing to flick the lock undone on the doorframe so she can leave when she wants. Still, she stays, arms crossed like a tough little Kitten with a big attitude. “Alek already knows his employees love my spot. I usually have the bouncers let them get a free drink ticket when they come in. We’re closer than most people think, Alek and I.”

“But you hate each other.”

“Precisely.”

She rolls her eyes, falling into the couch now without having to be pushed. I can see something else is on her mind, but I don’t mention it yet. It’s concerning enough for her pretty face to be scrunched in unease, but she’s also a little tipsy and probably sexually frustrated with me backing down as well.

Even through those issues, she hangs her head and whispers into her lap, “I just don’t understand who the bad guy is here.”

“What do you mean, Kitten?”

I sit down beside her, my arm brushing her knobby spin but not enough to yank her sideways so she’s straddling my lap. I’d give my f*****g kidney to make that happen right now, something about her perfect a*s on my knees while her legs are parted open for me… she could ride my d**k until next week and I wouldn’t stop us again.

STOP.

“F**k,” I snarl, exhaling while I reign my thoughts back in. “Okay, what were you talking about, Izzy? What do you mean?”

She looks perturbed still but speaks even lower into her hands that come to shield her mouth from view. “It’s just something I saw in the system, that’s all.”

I c**k my head, curious. “What did you see?”

“How close are you to Alek, really? Do you really trust him?”

“Not much more than I could throw him, Kitten.”

“Good,” she sighs. “I saw something in the system at work today. It’s my first day on the job, so I was trying to get familiar with the software customers buy. I went digging through the motherboard, the mainframe, and I found something concerning.”

“What did you replace?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I was born into this business, Kitten. You don’t have to dumb it down for me.”

She’s obviously still annoyed with me, but she looks around the room carefully. Something about the camera in the corner has her unsure when she spies it, and she works her way back into her heels so she can leave.

“I shouldn’t have said anything at all,” she mutters, reaching for the door. “I’m sorry I bothered you with this nonsense.”

I follow her through the club and grab my keys from the valet. Thankfully, they have learned to keep my car right on the curb so I can get out of here fast, but with the loud music blaring behind us, I’m not sure Izzy would hear me pleading to get her in my car. So, instead, I open my passenger door and usher her to come inside. She pauses, looks around carefully, and then does so.

With my foot punching the gas pedal, I get her to my penthouse downtown. She seems confused and silent, sitting in my sports car with her hands turning over carefully in her lap. She stares at the Smith Tower in awe, the robust architecture a bewildering sight for most people not privy to Seattle’s secrets.

I help her out of my car, thankful she trusted me enough to come here in the first place.

“What is this place, Dimitri?”

“It’s an observatory.”

She looks at the sky like there’s something to observe at this hour. It’s far too dark to see the stars, the city drowning every spec out of sight that isn’t the moon. It’s a beautiful tower, and an even better night to show it off. The sky is clear, and the city is still alive. I use my special key to get in after hours, the dinner rush is done in the dining room and the bar is all cleared for the night.

The elevator takes us to the very top of the tower, exposing the pyramid of a penthouse I’ve called home for the last few years. It’s the most expensive place in Seattle, a place most people don’t even know exists, but it pissed off Alek when I outbid him for the lease, so I cherish it even more.

She staggers towards the nearest teardrop windows, looking through them while I watch her knees rattle.

“Afraid of heights?” I ponder, seeing her grip the wall a little tight with her hands.

“Not exactly,” she whispers. “Small spaces.”

“This place isn’t that small,” I add, motioning to the extended ceilings that come to a dull point. “See, look at all this space.”

“It’s not your place I’m referring to,” she insists. “Your elevator is small.”

I look towards the metal doors that open to my penthouse. It only works with my key, but most people ride the elevator in groups of five to six. I know I’ve felt closed in not being able to crack a window in this place, but that’s what my house is for.

I just figured a beautiful night with a beautiful woman needed to happen in a beautiful spot.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now that we’re alone?” I ask, fixing a pot of decaf coffee.

She holds a hand to her temple obviously fighting an alcohol migraine. “I hate gin… I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with.”

“Not much of a liquor fan?”

“I like beer,” she admits, almost like that’s a problem. I enjoy the occasional lager, but owning a bar pretty much prohibits me from being able to drink all that often. I like my liquor licenses and try to keep them. “If I tell you this, will you tell Alek?”

“No,” I say, taking my blazer off. I set it down nearby so I can roll up my sleeves. It’s always a bit warmer in here than anywhere else in the tower, the kitchen, the focal point of every penthouse, but it’s extra special in mine for architectural reasons. “I’m not his friend, Kitten. You can tell me anything and it will stay with me.”

She pulls her hair back, steps out of her heels, and shakes her head. “I think Alek has something dark going on in his mainframe, and I’m not sure he knows about it or not, but I get the feeling he does, and he doesn’t want it to be removed.”

Pressing my hands to the kitchen island, the cold marble under my worn fingertips, I watch her squirm and wait for my reply. She’s uneasy and unsure, but more than that, she’s scared. Her eyes stroll up my forearms licked with black ink tattoos, taking in the art I’ve forever embedded into my body.

“I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s there and it shouldn’t be,” she insists.

I have to dance around this carefully. “Do you think you could show me, Kitten?”

Swallowing hard, she only nods, solidifying two things in stone.

One, she trusts me.

And two, the most important note—she doesn’t trust Alek Ivica, and that means I have the perfect insider to my rival’s work that I could ever ask for.

“Show me, Kitten. I’d be happy to help you with this problem.”