Claimed by the Russian Billionaire

Dmitri Ivanov POV:

THERE ARE THREE THINGS I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR.

Cowardlymen, Drama surrounding women, Anyone trying to stop me from building my empire.

If any of those things get in my way, I deal swiftly with the issue and carry on with my life, even more focused to see my plans come to fruition.

So when I see her with him, I should stay away. It's a trifecta of everything I don't tolerate. But the moment she arrives, my attention is blurred. And I can't afford any distractions.

"This is getting old. What's the bottom line?" my older brother, Maksim, asks. For months, we've expressed interest and had multiple meetings to buy the land we need for our development.

Lorenzo Rossi, the Chicago Italian mob boss's youngest son, owns it. While he claims to be a legit business owner, my three brothers and I aren't stupid enough to believe it or let our guards down. But we also aren't going to back away from what we need. He bought the land from the city for next to nothing. Anything he gets is a huge profit. Before the ground can be touched, millions will need to be spent on cleanup. He knows it. We know it. But he's greedy. He also thinks he can string us along forever.

There's a loud surge of voices. It's only four o'clock, too early for the dinner rush, which is why we set our meeting for an hour ago. We should have finished by now, but Lorenzo doesn't understand the value of time.

Silver-spoon prick.

I'm bored and frustrated with his game. My brothers are, too, but I lack patience the most.Maksim, Boris, and Sergey all can wait things out longer than I can. But even they are fed up with this cat and mouse game Lorenzo's put us through. And I'm sick of looking at him and his three thugs' faces.

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, glancing at the commotion, trying to stop myself from flying across the table and ripping Lorenzo to shreds.

A woman dressed in a bridal gown, the man I assume she just married, and people dressed up, arrive in groups. They all head toward the elevator, except one woman.

She has long, blonde hair that hangs in curls down her back. Her blue eyes remind me of Lake Michigan on a sunny day. A black, satin cocktail dress hugs her curves, accentuating her voluptuous breasts and round ass. Red stilettos match her pouty lips and clutch.Hello, bombshell. Come to daddy.

She's not fat, but she's not a stick, either. I could grab her anywhere and not feel bones, which is what I like in a woman.

She walks toward our table, and I check her out. At first, she doesn't see me, but then she catches me staring, and our eyes lock. She blushes and looks away.

I look at her hand. No ring. Good.

When she passes, a light floral scent lingers in the air, and I almost groan.

I turn in my chair, watching her ass jiggle and sway just right before she disappears through the heavy wooden bathroom door.

"Dmitri?" Boris asks, pulling me back into the conversation.

I raise my eyebrows in question, and his face hardens. I'm sure I'll hear about this as soon as we leave.

Sergey clears his throat. "Our deadline is thirty days. If we can't make this happen in the next few weeks, we're walking. You can find another buyer."Lorenzo calls his bluff. "You've got a lot of money tied up into land you won't be able to do anything with if you don't get my piece."

He's got us by the balls, and I hate it. "There are a lot of things we can do with what we have.

Don't get cocky," I warn him.

The conversation goes back and forth. I'm getting irritated and excuse myself. "I need another drink. Anyone else?" The restaurant doesn't officially open until five for dinner, so the waitstaff hasn't arrived yet. Since we know the owner, he let us come in early but made it clear we needed to get our drinks at the bar, which we were fine with.

Maksim nods to get another round for everyone, and I go, happy to get a breather. The bartender is handing a man a beer. He's wearing a suit, has brown hair and eyes, and a scowl on his face.

"Bernie, give me four vodkas and four whiskeys," I order.

The bartender nods and grabs glasses and the bottles.

The man takes a sip of his beer then stares at the game on the television.

"What's the score?" I ask. I don't care, but Boris places bets on all the big games.

"Don't know. I've had to deal with shit all day," the man replies. He's dressed up, and I assume he's here because of the wedding reception upstairs.

"You part of the wedding?"

He scoffs and continues staring at the screen. "If you want to call it that."

I'm not sure what it is about him, but I don't like him. It's not his scowl. I know plenty of men who have the same look. But my gut is telling me he's a douchebag.

Bernie sets everything on a tray. "Sally should be in soon to wait on you guys."

"We're good. Thanks."

I throw a hundred down, tell him to keep the change, and spin with the tray in my hand.

"Oh, sorry!" The sex kitten from earlier jumps.I check her out again, and she blushes, redder than earlier. "Not a problem."

"Sit, Anna," the man orders, as if she's a dog.

She's with him?

Anna.

My distaste for him grows.

Her face falls. She opens then closes her mouth. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. "We need to go upstairs, Mitch."

"We aren't going until the game is over." He chugs several mouthfuls of his beer.

She bites her lip and quietly replies with a shaky voice, "But everyone is already there."

He spins on the barstool and, in a nasty voice, demands, "Sit your fat ass down."

She looks at the ground and blinks hard, her cheeks staining pink with embarrassment.

I put the tray of drinks down. "Don't talk to a lady that way," I growl. I shouldn't say anything. It's not my business. I don't need to get involved in this. There's a meeting going on and it should be my only focus.

Maybe it's the mix of how the meeting is going, my distaste for him, and the look on her face that makes me butt in. I usually steer clear of any domestic drama.

Anna's eyes widen.

Mitch spins and rises. "Keep your nose out of my business." He's not as tall as me or quite as built. My guess is I could take him out in one punch.

Not in front of her.

You don't need trouble. Walk away.

I lean closer to him. "My suggestion is you take your beer and move along to your party."

He steps closer. "What are you going to do about it?"

I glance at Anna. Her lip is trembling. I look back at Mitch. "I'm going to take these drinks to mybrothers." I nod so he can see them. I could take him out myself, but a little intimidation never hurt.

"When I finish, if you haven't escorted your woman upstairs, we'll be having a different discussion."

Acknowledging she's his makes my stomach clench.

Why is she with such a loser?

I give her one last look and deliver the drinks to the table. When I turn, they step into the elevator.

He has his hand roughly on her elbow. The doors shut, and I catch her fear-filled eyes.

I should follow him and rip his head off.

"Dmitri, Lorenzo seems to think we're willing to give him double what the property is worth,"

Boris seethes.

I groan inside. You're here to close this deal. Get your head in the game. The rest of the meeting only lasts another five minutes, but I can barely focus. All I want to do is go upstairs and learn everything there is about her. And I can't get her scared expression out of my mind.

Anna's POV

Several Days Later

"WE DID THE BEST WE COULD WITH THE BLOODSTAINS, BUT WE COULDN'T GET IT ALL

OUT,"

The woman at the dry cleaners says while holding out Mitch's shirt. My insides quiver. "Are you sure there isn't anything else you can do? The woman shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but we tried it all. That will be forty-two eighty-three." I stare at the faded, reddish-brown stains. It's his favorite shirt. He's going to be so angry. Why did I pack it? We should have stayed home. This wouldn't have happened if we didn't go. I knew something terrible was going to happen before we left. I could feel it. My good friends, Jamison and Quinn, got married. Mitch and I flew to Chicago, but he didn't want to go. Like all my family events, I had to convince him. I shouldn't have. The last time my brother, Chase, and Mitch were in the same room, they almost got into a fist fight. I worried about it and even told my best friend, Harper, to help keep my brother away from Mitch. The entire weekend was a disaster, starting from the first night when Mitch left me in the bedroom, waiting for him in lingerie. After so many hours, I put on clothes to look for him and found him in the hotel bar. A waitress was on his lap, doing shots with him. It's not the first time I've caught him doing inappropriate things with other women, but like always, he claimed it was innocent fun. The next day, Mitch woke up with a chip on his shoulder. He wasn't happy we were in Chicago. We only lasted about fifteen minutes into the reception before Quinn's brother, Steven, and Mitch got into a physical fight. The police came, Mitch threatened to press charges, and we went back to the hotel. I sat in the room all night, not knowing where Mitch was, and the next morning, he came into the room and told me we were leaving in ten minutes. I didn't argue. I didn't question the perfume I could smell on his skin. I packed our bags and tried my best not to upset him. If we can just get back to New York, we can fix things. I'm not sure why I lied to myself. I had been trying to "fix things" between us for the last few years. I slide my debit card into the machine, sign the screen, and take the items ] from the woman. It begins to rain on my way back to our apartment. By the time I get home, my hair and clothes stick to my body.

My nerves escalate. I set the clothes on the armchair then go into the bedroom to change before Mitch sees me. He hates it when I'm a disheveled mess. I change and am in the middle of drying my hair when my alarm rings. Oh God. It's so late, and I don't have dinner made. I put my hairdryer down and rush out to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. The chicken still isn't fully defrosted, and my gut sinks further. Can I do anything right today?

My appointment with my new interior design clients ran late. I should have been home two hours ago, but I also was almost to the apartment when I remembered about the dry cleaning. Mitch has a demanding work schedule and wants dinner on the table when he comes home. I only started my business a few years ago, and he makes more money than me. I made over six figures last year, but he calls it "a glorified hobby." He's a financial advisor, and his job is more important, so he expects me to take care of anything related to the house. And I want to make him happy, so I do my best to make sure everything is clean and as he likes it. The door slams, and I curse myself for not paying better attention today.

"Anna," he barks.

I run out to the living room and attempt to kiss him, but he turns his cheek.

"Hi. Did you have a good day?"

He scowls. "Why is your hair wet?"

"I-I got caught in the rain and was drying it but went to the kitchen to start dinner."

"To start dinner? It's seven o'clock." He scowls.

"I'm sorry. I picked up a new client today and-"

"A new client," he growls.

I nod and force a smile. "Yes. And-"

He pushes me back so I'm against the wall. "Did you sleep with him?"

"What?"

He fists my damp hair. "You fucking whore."

Tears blur my vision. "Mitch, no! I would never-"

He slaps my face so hard, I wonder if my cheekbone cracked. His watch slices my lip.

"Ow!" I scream. The metallic taste of blood hits my tongue.

His brown eyes turn almost black. He yanks my hair and spit flies out of his mouth. "You're a fat, little-"

"Piece of shit!" my brother, Chase, yells and pulls Mitch off me.

What is he doing here?

Chase lives in Chicago. He moved there over a year ago.

"Chase, no!" I yell as he pummels Mitch in the face.

The two men roll on the floor as I scream. The fight seems to last forever. There's so much blood, mostly Mitch's, and I think my brother will kill him.

The neighbor comes over to try and break it up and also calls the police. It takes all of them to break up the fight. The next few hours are chaotic. Mitch, Chase, and I are all questioned. They take pictures of all of us. A female officer takes me into the bedroom. "There's a safehouse I can take you to."

"That isn't necessary," I tell her through my tears. "It was just a misunderstanding. He didn't mean it."

She tilts her head. "Ma'am, this isn't the first time he's hit you. We have the report when the neighbors called the last time." More shame fills me. I glance out the window. "That was over a year ago and my fault." She picks up my hand. "Nothing is your fault." I turn to her. "You don't know. You don't live with us. It was."

"No," she insists.

A male officer, who my brother knows, leads Chase into the bedroom.

Chase goes into my closet and grabs my suitcase. "You have five minutes to pack, Anna."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're coming to Chicago with me."

"No, I'm not. Mitch is hurt. If I leave..."

"This is over," my brother yells.

"Calm down," the officer states.

Chase takes a deep breath. His hand is swollen and face is bruised. "Give my sister and me a minute, please."

I rise and go to the window.

I can't leave him. He'll be so angry if I go.

He's going to kill me.

No, he didn't mean it. He's under a lot of stress.

Why did I have to screw up today?

"This is a misunderstanding. I didn't have dinner ready. I got caught in the rain. I just...just..." I

start to sob, and Chase pulls me into his arms.

He sternly says, "Anna, we're going to Chicago. Pack, or don't, but we're leaving in four minutes.

You are not staying with him. And even if you tried, the police are requiring you to stay apart right now."

I can't talk. My brother's arms feel so safe, and I hate that they are his and not Mitch's. That I've failed to maintain my relationship, and Chase has to be the one to comfort me. If he hadn't shown up, Mitch might have killed me. He wouldn't.

His eyes were scarier than last time.

It only happened once before. Mitch promised me he would never do it again. But I've never seen his eyes so dark and so much hatred in them before.

I take nothing but my purse. In a haze, I get on Chase's plane and fly to Chicago with him. He tries to talk to me, but I can't do anything except cry.

I have so much guilt over what happened. And I'm embarrassed my brother witnessed everything.

When we land, Vivian is waiting in the car.

Her face falls when she sees us.

I cry all over again, and she hugs me.

When we get to their penthouse, Xander is waiting.

"Why is Xander here?" I ask.

Vivian's eyes are full of sympathy, and more shame fills me. "You're hurt, Anna. So is Chase. He's going to examine you both."

"No, I'm-"

"It's here or the hospital," my brother barks.

I shut my eyes. Can this get any more embarrassing?

I've known Xander forever. He's a doctor, but I'd rather have a stranger look at my face.

"It was only a slap. I'm fine," I insist.

"Only a slap? Do you hear yourself?" Chase growls.

Vivian puts her hand on his arm. "Chase-"

"No. Enough of this."

"Not now," Vivian says.

He opens his mouth then shuts it. "Fine. Tomorrow we're talking."

Why did I come here?

Where else would I have gone?

It's Mitch's apartment. I would have had to go to the safehouse.

"Anna, let me clean your face," Xander quietly says.

There's no point fighting this.

I sit on the table and let him, trying not to wince.

"I'm sorry. I know this hurts."

I can't look at him, it's too humiliating. So I keep my eyes shut.

"All done," he finally says then turns to Chase. "Your hand is swollen badly. I'd feel better if we took some X-rays."

Chase groans. "Is that necessary?"

"Yeah. I think you're going to need a cast. But I'll get you in and out. Let's go."

Chase sighs and gets up. He grumbles, "Fine."

"I'm sorry," I quietly say, closing my eyes again. I want this nightmare to be over.

Chase tilts my chin up. "Anna."

I open my eyes.

"This is not your fault."

I wish I could stop crying, but I can't.

Vivian clears her throat. "You should go. It's already late."

Chase pats my shoulder and leaves with Xander.

I ask Vivian if I can go to sleep. I don't want to talk. She hands me pajama bottoms and a top, but she's several sizes smaller than me, so they are skin tight.

I stare in the mirror, crying some more. If you weren't so fat, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

I'm the same size I've always been, but in the last year, Mitch started pointing out how big my ass and the rest of my body parts are. I've been eating a careful diet of portioned macros so I don't gain any weight. I tried to lose some, but nothing seems to budge.

Why didn't I bring clothes? What am I going to wear tomorrow?

I take my clothes to the laundry room. Vivian is folding towels.

"Hey. You want me to wash those for you?"

"Please. I didn't bring anything." I look down at my body, which is stretching the fabric of her pajamas as far as they can go. "I'm bigger than you. My fat ass isn't going to fit into your clothes, I'm afraid."

"You aren't fat. You have a beautiful figure."

I turn away, and more tears fall.

She quietly says, "Why don't I get out my laptop, and you can order some clothes? There's a service that delivers. It'll be here by ten tomorrow, at the latest, if you order tonight."

"Okay. Thanks."

We sit on the couch, shopping online. I select an outfit and go to check out.

"That's all you're getting?" she asks.

"I have enough at my place."

The sympathetic expression she's been giving me all night reappears. She puts her hand on mine.

"Anna, you can't go back there. Chase isn't going to let you leave anytime soon."

"I'm not his hostage."

"Anna-"

"You don't know what happened. It's not Mitch's fault."

She sternly says, "Yes, it is. No one should ever hit you."

"He's stressed. He has a lot going on at work, and this weekend didn't help."

"I'm sure he's pissed. But it doesn't make it right. He could kill you."

I turn away. "He wouldn't." My voice shakes when it comes out.

Vivian stays quiet.

I rise to get my purse to pay for my outfit. I come back and enter my debit card info, but the order won't go through. Insufficient funds flashes on the screen.

"Something must be wrong with their system," I say, feeling embarrassed again but knowing I have enough money in my account.

I take my credit card out of my wallet and try to use it. It gets declined as well.

"I don't understand what is going on. I have plenty of money and credit available," I tell Vivian.

"Just put it on mine. The info is already in the system."

"I need to call the bank."

"Anna, does Mitch have access to your accounts?"

My gut twists. "Yes. We have joint accounts. Since he manages money, I let him do what's best for

us with it. We keep two thousand dollars in it at all times, and he invests the rest."

"Do you have other cards?"

"No. Mitch doesn't like debt. This one is only for emergencies."

The color in her face drains. "Do you have access to the investment accounts?"

"I assume I do."

"You've never seen them?"

"No. Mitch takes care of it."

She furrows her brows. "Do you have online access to your account?"

"Yes." I try to log in to my bank account first, but I can't get in or reset the password. My credit card is the same. The air in my lungs becomes thick.

I pick up my phone to call the bank. There's a text message from Mitch.

"I'm sorry about tonight. It won't happen again. Call me."

I start to text him, and Vivian pulls my phone out of my hand.

"Do not talk to him tonight."

"Vivian-"

"No. He cut off all your access to your funds. Your money, Anna. Not his, yours. My guess is the investment accounts don't even have your name on them."

"He wouldn't do that," I claim, but the voice in my head says that she's right.

"Anna, I know this is hard for you, but you need to be honest with yourself about what is

happening right now. If you go back to him, he will hurt you again, possibly kill you. He's cutting off your access to money so he can control you, thinking it'll drive you back to him."

I don't want to hear or believe it. Deep down, I know everything she's saying is true. "Why does this have to hurt so bad," I finally admit.

She pulls me into her arms, and I sob. When my brother comes back from the hospital, I'm still crying. His right hand is in a cast.

Mitch attempts to call me, and Chase grabs my phone. "What are you doing?" I cry out.

He turns my phone off. "Anna, go to sleep. Tomorrow, we are talking." "Give me my phone!"

"No. You can have it back tomorrow, if I can trust you."

"If you can trust me?"

"Yes. You aren't talking to him."

"I'm not a child."

Chase looks at me. All I feel is like I've disappointed him. "No. You're my beautiful sister who deserves someone to worship you, not hurt you. And if I have to lock you in a room to keep you away from him, I will. So help me, God, Anna, if he steps foot near you ever again, I will be in jail for killing him with my bare hands."

His words only make me cry harder. I don't know why I'm fighting Chase. I know Mitch crossed the line again. I saw what he was capable of in his eyes, which is far worse than what he did to me. If Chase hadn't shown up, I might be dead right now.

If my friend told me this was going on in her relationship, I would tell her to run. But I've put my heart and soul into the last five years. I love Mitch. Not the person he was tonight, but the person he is most of the time. Except for the previous year, but that's from the stress of his job. Plus, you were growing your

career and had less time to focus on Mitch.

He warned me I was putting my business before us. Tonight is a perfect example.

I had to think I could do it all.

Why am I thinking like this?

I put my hands over my face and sob. "I'm so screwed up!"

Chase pulls me into his arms again. "None of this is on you, Anna."

Then why do I feel like it is? Why can't Mitch love me without hurting me?

The thought that I've been pushing down for over a year, since the last time he beat me, rushes back. Maybe I'm just unlovable.

Dmitri POV;

Two Months Later

"LADA'S RETIRING? WITH NO NOTICE?" I SAY IN RUSSIAN.

The barista sets my coffee down, and I pick it up. Maksim replies over the phone, "Yep." "She isn't going to finish our project?"

"No. She eloped and is traveling for the next month. She said she would refund our fees."

"We're in the middle of construction on a twenty-million-dollar building. She was supposed to go over materials with us today," I bark.

"I know. I'm walking into the meeting with Lorenzo. Figure it out. I can only focus on this right now. If this prick doesn't sell us this land, we're in trouble." He hangs up.

I curse, louder than I should.

"Bad day?" a familiar woman's voice asks.

I spin. "Vivian. How are you?" I lean down and kiss her cheek. We've worked together on several real estate transactions, and I've done some things with her foundation. Her baby bump is poking out of her jacket. She smiles. "I think I'm better than you sound." I sigh. "I'm in the middle of a new build, and our interior designer met some guy, got married, and flew the coop. She was already behind schedule. If I don't get materials ordered soon, we're going to lose millions."

Her face brightens. "I know a really talented designer who can help you."

"Who?"

"It's my sister-in-law. She's from New York and staying with Chase and me. She has her own business there but is relocating, so she doesn't have any projects right now."

"This is a twenty-million-dollar building. It's a large project," I say.

An amused expression appears on her face. "She can handle it. She's amazing."

"Any chance she's Russian?" I tease but also know my brothers prefer to keep everything in the Russian community if possible. Vivian is Greek and won't take it personally because she understands cultural issues more than most.

She softly laughs. "Nope. Grade A American."

I groan. "Guess it's time to expand my Rolodex."

Her eyes turn serious. "She's extremely talented, takes her work seriously, and will meet your budget parameters and deadlines."

There's no time to mess with this. If we don't figure this out, we're in trouble.

"Any chance I can meet her today?"

Vivian points to a corner table. A blonde woman sits in a booth. She's facing the wall. Her hair is in a messy bun, and she has a laptop open. "I need to go home and get ready for a listing appointment, but I can quickly introduce you if you wish. We just got done with yoga." I motion for her to go first. "Lead the way."

"Anna, this is Dmitri. He's in a jam and needs an interior designer. Dmitri, Anna," Vivian says. "Okay, I'm going to be late if I don't go. You two talk. See you tonight." Vivian pats her on the shoulder and pushes past me.

"What?" Anna turns her head, and my heart beats faster. It's her.

I wonder if she ditched her loser boyfriend.

Vivian said she's moving here.

"Anna. Good to see you again." I slide into the booth across from her.

Her face turns red, and she opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it.

I hold my hand out. "I'm Dmitri. I don't think we formally met last time."

She looks at my hand and gapes some more. She finally takes it and mutters, "I'm so confused right now."

I chuckle. "I'm friends with Vivian."

Jesus, this girl is smoking hot.

She's wearing a yoga tank top with a wrap around her arms. She continues to gape at me.

I try not to stare at the little bit of cleavage showing and release her hand. "Vivian said you're an interior designer?"

"Yes," she whispers. She clears her throat and says louder, "Yes."

"I need you, then."

"You...you need me?" The red in her face deepens.

Yep. In my bed, sweating and calling out my name.

"For my building."

"Oh?"

"I'm in quite the predicament."

"What would that be?"

I should stick to the task at hand, but I can't resist. "I didn't think I would see you again."

She takes a nervous breath. "I'm sorry...about...um... I..."

Don't apologize for that dick.

I put my hand over hers. "You're moving here?"

She nods. "I think."

"With him?"

She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"Is it over between you two?"

She looks out the window then clears her throat. "What's your predicament?"

Guess I got my answer. Disappointment fills me.

I need to get this problem solved.

I remove my hand from hers. "I'm in the middle of construction on a multi-million-dollar building.

Our designer bailed. We're already behind schedule and need to be ordering materials, or we're going to lose millions."

"And you want me to help you?"

"If you're as good as Vivian claims."

I'm sure you're way better than I could ever comprehend.

She has a boyfriend.

He's a dickhead.

She's still taken.

"Ummm... I...ummm..."

"Tell you what. Why don't we go to the building and do a walk-through then we can go to my place and review the blueprint."

She looks down. "I'm in yoga clothes."

I shouldn't flirt with her, knowing she's taken, but I can't resist. "Guess if we need to get dirty, that won't be a problem then."

Her eyes widen, and she turns crimson.

I push her laptop shut and lean forward. "Do you want to shower first? You look perfect to me, but I can make that happen if you prefer."

Her mouth hangs open.

I lean back. "My driver is out front. Why don't I take you to Vivian's? You do whatever you need to, I'll wait for you, then we'll go. Bring your laptop, and you can write up the contract for me to sign

later today."

"You've not seen my work. How do you know I'm the right designer for you?" she blurts out.

I've never hired anyone without looking at their work before. I might be in a desperate situation, but I should still do my due diligence.

"Vivian vouched for you. She said you were transitioning your business and would be able to focus on me. Is she correct?"

"Focus on you?"

Yep. All day and all night.

"This project. And she claimed I could trust you to stay within my budget, meet deadlines, and create something amazing. Was she correct or wrong?"

"Ummm...yes, I can do those things."

"Good. Do you speak any Russian?"

She shakes her head. "No. Do I need to?"

I should at least warn her. "My brothers and I prefer to hire Russians and keep what we can in the community. You might have to communicate with some of them. Many of our workers don't speak English very well."

A line creases between her eyes. "I'm sorry. I don't know any Russian words."

"Will it bother you?" I ask her.

"Not understanding what they say?"

"If I need to be your interpreter."

She hesitates. "No. But are your brothers going to be upset I'm not Russian?"

And we're going to be paying you a fortune, and it's leaving the community? Yep.

I lie. "No. You're saving our asses." I shouldn't touch her, but I trace her fingers. "Maybe I should teach you some words?"

Her hand freezes. "Such as?"

I shrug. "The basics."

"Okay. If you want to, that would be helpful."

"Good. It's settled, then." I rise and hold my hand out to help her out of the booth. "Ready?"

"Where are we going?"

"To shower."

Her eyes widen. She swallows hard.

Yes. Me, you, and your sexy body all lathered up and rubbing against mine.

She's still with the douchebag.

But she's moving here, and he isn't.

"I'll drive you to Vivian's."

"She's only a few buildings down. I can walk."

I pick up her laptop so she can't change her mind. "I'll put this in the car and wait for you then. I've got several calls I need to make."

"Okay. I'll hurry so I don't waste your time."

Nothing with you is wasting my time.

"No rush, kotik. I've got at least an hour of calls to make." I don't, but I don't want her feeling stressed.

She tilts her head. "Kotik?"

Pussycat.

"I'll tell you later, over dinner tonight."

"Dinner?"

She has a boyfriend.

A loser who isn't moving here. Any guy who'd let her move across the country and not follow deserves to lose her.

You're asking for drama.

"Yeah. We've got a lot to do. You eat, don't you?"

She doesn't answer, takes a deep breath, and avoids my gaze. "I'm going to walk to Vivian's now."

I nod to her laptop. "Let me put this in the car."

"I can go myself." It comes out stern.

ack off. You're freaking her out.

"All right, kotik. I'll wait in the car." I motion for her to go first and grab the door before she can open it.

I don't get into the car. I stand outside the vehicle, ogling her perfect, juicy ass until it disappears inside the building.

My phone rings. "Maksim, did you close it?"

He sighs. "We're close."

"We're running out of time."

"I'm handling it."

"Fair enough. I just secured a designer."

"Who did you get?"

"A woman from New York. She's moving her firm here." I don't know how big Anna's business is or anything about it, really. My brothers will kill me if they find out I didn't do any due diligence.

"Who is it? Marisha? Yelena?" Those are two big Russian's in the New York community.

"You don't know her. Her name is Anna."

"Anna what?"

"It's Vivian Monroe's sister-in-law."

The line goes quiet for a moment. "Her husband is American."

"Yep. So are we."

"Not funny. That's a lot of money to withhold from our community."

"We're in a jam. We're going to lose millions if we don't solve this problem. She comes highly recommended and does amazing work," I insist, saying a little prayer that everything Vivian told me about Anna is true.

"We should look for a Russian."

I lie again. "I already signed a contract."

"You didn't?"

"Yep. It's done."

He groans. "I don't have time for this. You hired her, you better make sure you keep your eye on her at all times."

Oh, don't worry, big brother. I have every intention of keep my eyes on her as much as possible.

"Done." I hang up and go inside the building. I sit in the lobby, in a chair facing the elevator so I can see her when she gets off.

There is only one question I try to figure out while I wait for her. How do I convince her to break up with her douchebag boyfriend?.