Chapter 4 Anna

Anna POV:

VIVIAN IS RUSHING OUT THE DOOR WHEN I ARRIVE.

"Do you always introduce people like that?" I accuse.

She winces. "Sorry. I'm running late. Did you get the job?"

My butterflies take off. "Ummm... I think so. He's waiting for me downstairs. He wants to take me to the building then his place to review blueprints, then dinner."

Vivian smirks. "His place? Dinner?"

"Now you're making me nervous. I was going to ask if he's a psycho I need to be worried about."

A crazy man who's sexy and totally out of my league.

"Not at all. Dmitri is an excellent catch. Women are always going after him. He's hot and successful. Plus, he has the sexy Russian accent thing going on."

I groan. "I'm not looking for a new boyfriend." I don't even know if Mitch and I are technically broken up. I've spoken to him a few times. He keeps apologizing and says he wants me back. I asked him to put the money back in my accounts, and he said he would when I come back.

The more time that passes, the more I realize I need to stay away. If I go back, he'll suck me back in. But I hate throwing away five years of my life. And no matter what he did to me, I still love him. I wish I didn't. It would make it easier, especially when I try to sleep at night. But I do.

Vivian made an appointment for me to see her friend, who's a counselor. She works with women who have experienced domestic abuse. At first, I told Vivian that wasn't me, but over the last few weeks, I realize it is me. I am a victim.

And I hate it.

I originally went to the counselor to appease Vivian, but it was different than I thought it would be. I liked her friend, Paula, and have gone three times now. Vivian has been great, and Harper stayed in Chicago with Steven, so she is here, too. But Paula seems to understand how I feel, differently than my family or friends can. And I still can't discuss anything with Chase without him going berserk.

"Oh, and it sounds like it's a problem I'm not Russian?" I say.

Vivian shrugs. "I'll explain the dynamics to you later. He and his brothers are just trying to help out their people."

I already understand it and don't need Vivian to explain it. I have friends from many cultures, and I experienced similar things in New York. "He's going to be my boss."

"Mmm...not really. He's hiring you. It's not like you're his employee."

"Not technically, but still..."

Vivian puts her coat on. "If I were you, I'd wear jeans for the walk-through, then take several outfits to change, depending on where you're going to dinner."

"Seriously? I'm about to break out in hives now."

She snorts. "Don't forget shoes. Those black stilettos you just bought are good ones. Oh, you should take your new red dress!"

"Vivian-"

"Gotta go. Bye! Text me how it's going!"

"Vivian-"

She waves and leaves.

Is this really happening? I go into the bathroom and wince when I see my reflection. I have on no makeup and my hair is all messy.

I shower and shave, dry my hair, then get nervous when I stare at the clothes in my closet, wondering what to wear and pack.

Since Chase won't let me go back to New York to get my stuff, he issued me a credit card. I still have no access to my accounts. The bank said my funds were transferred, and there is nothing I can do. Apparently, I was a joint account holder on Mitch's credit card, and he revoked my privileges. I would apply for my own line of credit, but since I have no income coming in, I didn't want to commit fraud and lie on my application. I didn't want to take Chase's money, but I couldn't keep washing my one outfit every night. He even threatened to pick out my new wardrobe, so I caved and decided it was better to select my own clothes.

Vivian and Harper took me out and made me buy things for all sorts of occasions. It was a little overboard, but the retail therapy made me feel better, even if it was short lived.

I take Vivian's advice and put on jeans, a dressier black top, and ankle boots. I decide to wear my hair straight and keep my makeup more casual so I don't appear to be trying too hard.

This is work, I remind myself.

I pack a dressier outfit I could wear for dinner or to look more professional, and the red dress, plus two different pairs of shoes. At the last minute, I throw my hairbrush, curling iron, hairspray, and makeup in the bag.

My stomach has a million butterflies in it. Dmitri is waiting when I step off the elevator, and the flutters intensify.

He might be one of the hottest guys I've ever seen. He's got the sexy shaved-head look going on and is taller and more built than Mitch. And Vivian was right, his Russian accent will put any girl's panties in a twist. He has just a touch of a beard going on, amazing green eyes that morph between light and dark, and there's a hint of danger about him.

When I saw him on the day of Quinn and Jamison's wedding, he checked me out when I passed him on my way to the bathroom. I tried not to give him any attention and felt guilty for getting flutters since I was with Mitch. When I ran into him at the bar, he checked me out again. Today, his gaze dropped several times to my cleavage when we were in the booth. Then he scanned my body when I stood up. I could be imagining things, since I haven't had sex in months. Mitch kept blowing me off and making comments about my weight. I hadn't gained any, but it might have me interpreting Dmitri's attention the wrong way.

If I can't keep Mitch, how would a guy like Dmitri even be interested in me?

The thought smacks me in the face. This is work. Keep it professional.

Dmitri rises when I step off the elevator, and his eyes travel the length of my body before meeting mine. I feel like his prey when he looks at me like that, but I reprimand myself.

Don't screw up your first job in Chicago.

He reaches for my bag and whistles. "You look nice, kotik. What's in this?"

Kotik. What does it mean?

He said he would tell me at dinner.

I don't know any Russian words. But my heart skips a beat whenever he calls me kotik. And my face feels hot again from him whistling and the way he's looking at me.

"Vivian said I should wear jeans. I wasn't sure what the attire was the rest of the day, so..." I release a nervous breath.

His lips twitch. "Okay. Let's go check the building out." He puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me outside to his car. Tingles race through my body at his touch. He slides into the seat next to me, and his woody, amber scent fills the small space.

My nerves increase, and I twist my fingers together. "How far is the building?"

"Not far. Chicago is smaller than New York. How long have you been here?"

"A couple months."

"Since the wedding?"

My mouth goes dry. I quietly reply, "A few days after."

Dmitri focuses on me.

"What?" I nervously ask.

"Why did you move to Chicago?"

"My brother made me."

"Why?"

My pulse increases, and I peer out the window. "Can we not talk about this?"

He doesn't answer right away. His fingers trace over my hand. "Did I get it wrong, earlier?"

"What?"

"Are you no longer with your boyfriend?"

"No...yes... I don't know. It's...it's complicated."

His jaw clenches.

"Why does it matter anyway?" I blurt out.

He tilts his head. "Is it not obvious to you?"

"What?"

"I'm interested in you."

My pulse beats in my neck. I inhale sharply. "As your designer."

He arches an eyebrow in amusement. "And other ways."

Oh God.

I turn toward the window and focus on the blur of the buildings passing by. I'm barely out of my relationship with Mitch. My things are still in the apartment we've shared for four years. Why would he, Mr. Sex on a Stick, be interested in me?

"Have I scared you, kotik?"

I turn to him. "What does that mean?"

His eyes drift over my body and back to my face. He licks his lips. "You want me to spell it out?"

"I don't know Russian," I blurt out, though he already knows this.

Amusement crosses his face again. I'm not sure what is so funny.

"I said I'd tell you at dinner what it meant. Speaking of which, what did you pack to wear?"

"Ummm..." I shake my head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and embarrassed. The flames on my cheeks grow hotter.

Why did I bring such a fancy dress?

I shouldn't have listened to Vivian.

Why did I bring a bag?

He drags his finger over my cheek.

I close my eyes. No one has touched me in so long. Since Mitch kept ignoring my affection for him, I'm not sure if it feels good because it's attention or because it's Dmitri. No, it's definitely him.

He lowers his voice. "These last few months, I wondered what happened to you."

I open my eyes. He thought about me?

"Why do you look surprised, my kotik?"

My kotik? He says it like I'm his.

My heart skips another beat.

The car stops, and he glances out the window. "We're here." He reaches to the seat across from us and grabs hard hats, steps out of the car, then reaches in to help me out.

He's a gentleman, too?

Mitch couldn't even open a door for me, much less help me out of the vehicle.

Why am I thinking about Mitch?

This is a huge professional opportunity. I need to keep it that way.

He puts the hat on me then leans into my ear. "It's a good thing you don't know Russian."

"Why?"

He steps back, checks me out slowly, then says, "My guess is the workers are going to say things to you that will make you blush."

I didn't think my face could burn any more, but it does. I'm not used to compliments. All Mitch did was tell me how fat he thought I was over the last year. I try to remember when a man last told me anything nice about my appearance, but I can't.

He grins. "Do you know Polish?"

"No. I only know English."

He wiggles his eyebrows. "There're only a few workers I need to worry about, then."

"I thought you only hired Russians?"

He shakes his head. "No. We don't totally discriminate." He winks and puts his hand on my back.

He points to the building. "If you're as good as Vivian says you are and impress my brothers, I'll make sure you get the next project we're working on. It makes this one look like peanuts."

My stomach flips. I've only worked on individual units. What has Vivian gotten me involved in?

This is past my skill level.

Is it?

Fake it until you make it.

I'm going to kill her.

We walk toward the fifteen-story building. Right now, it's just a shell with no windows or doors.

"What is this going to be?" I ask.

"Mid-range apartments. Three to four bedrooms each. We want two design concepts. One for the three-bedroom and one for the four-bedroom, to differentiate them."

Okay, so it's like designing two different units. I can do this.

He motions for me to go first through where the doors would be.

"This is the lobby area?"

"Yes. We want it to be a gathering place for residents."

"The entire floor?"

"Yes."

"Did your other designer create anything yet?"

Dmitri's face falls. In an irritated voice, he says, "No. We kept asking. She was supposed to present something today. We have nothing for any area."

I swallow hard. This is a huge project. I've never done anything this extensive. It excites and terrifies me.

"The hallways, elevators, and common bathrooms need to be designed as well," he informs me.

My chest tightens.

I turn and grab Dmitri's arm. "I'm sorry, but all my samples are in New York. I have swatches of every paint color imaginable, flooring, wallpaper, counters...everything. But nothing here."

"We order directly from the supplier, but we have showrooms here."

"I don't even know where they are in Chicago."

"We have accounts at several. I'll take you. Would it be better to look at the blueprints first or go to the showroom?"

"Probably the blueprints first so I can create a list."

"We will go tomorrow, then."

"If you tell me where it is, I can go myself. I don't want to waste your time." I usually bring samples to my clients for them to approve or choose from.

He spins me and steps so close to me, his body is flush to the back of mine.

My heart hammers faster.

He points over my shoulder. "See all this?"

"Yes."

"If this stays this way, I lose millions. We don't have enough time on this project right now.

Anything I can do to help you and speed up the process is not a waste of my time."

I exhale. "Okay."

"I will also add you to the accounts when we are there so you can deal with them in the future without me present." He places his hand on the small of my back. "Let me show you a three- and four-

bedroom unit."

I should tell him not to touch me and keep it professional, but I don't.

We go to the second floor and into both units. The men working all start talking in different languages, a few of them whistle, and Dmitri says something to them in Russian.

When we finish, I ask, "What about the roof?"

He raises his eyebrows. "The roof?"

"Are you doing anything with it? I designed one for a friend in New York, and it increased the value of each unit significantly."

"We've never done anything like that before. What kind of increase are we talking about?"

"Twelve percent."

"And the cost to develop it?"

"About two percent."

He whistles. "That's a decent profit."

"I'm sure Vivian would know if it would add extra value for you."

He grins. "Well, let's go look at the roof, kotik."

I still don't know what kotik means, but the more he calls me it, the more special I feel.

He probably uses the term for all women.

We go up to the roof. It's not the highest building in Chicago, but it still has great views, and you can see Lake Michigan.

"What would you do up here?" he asks.

"You're targeting families, right?"

"Yes."

I glance around at the large space. "Create a park with artificial grass." I point. "Make that half a sporting area, the middle part a playground, and this area over here, put in grills, places to read, gather, etc. I'd add glass so the view of Lake Michigan isn't obstructed and it's still safe."

Dmitri studies the bare space. "I like it. Let me talk to my brothers and a few real estate agents, including Vivian, to get their opinions on what it would do to the value of the units."

I step over to the edge. "I don't see any parks around."

"No. There aren't in this neighborhood."

"Well, talk to your people. See what they think."

His eyes twinkle. "You have any other ideas?"

"Not right now."

"Fair enough. Let's go to my place and through the blueprints?"

Nervous flutters flit in my stomach. His place. "Sure."