Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

SOFIA
I got canned. I couldn’t fucking believe it.
Brown water poured from the spout, and I hustled to turn it off before it could fill the tub. Dammit. I really wanted a bath. I rubbed my hands together, trying to get my circulation going. Despite the two pairs of pants, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and an enormous, hooded sweatshirt on top of that depicting a grumpy faced cat, I was still freezing.
“Fuck this day, already,” I growled, my potty mouth getting the better of me as usual.
It was bad enough I had to fork out seventy-three dollars for an Uber that morning, which made my walk of shame not only embarrassing but detrimental to my budget, but when I got home, my boss called. She sounded frantic, which was not unusual, and angry, which was.
“Sofia! Why didn’t you answer my calls on your cell?”
“Hello, Missy. Um, because my cell died. Why? What’s wrong?”
Typically, my week was Monday through Friday. Weekends were my own since Missy often spent them at her family home in the Hamptons during the summer and the Long Island Sound during the winter months. She and her brother were an odd pair. I never really liked being around him and was grateful it hadn’t happened very often. If Missy was flighty, then Matthew was straight up creepy.
So I was grateful for the fact Missy usually reserved time with her brother for the weekends at one of their estates. And that was when I worked on my book and visited my family. I only worked if she really needed me, and last night she insisted I go to the party but gave no indication she needed me after. I had no idea what she was talking about when she called to fire me.
“I can’t believe it. How could you do this to me?”
“Missy, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I’d replied to her hysterics with an eye roll. She was pretty much the worst drama queen I knew. Something that was definitely going in my book.
“Matthew is just livid. Now, he’s talking about cutting off my allowance. I’m sorry, Sof.”
“Sorry for what, Missy. What are you saying?” I asked, completely bewildered.
“I just can’t have you work for me anymore.”
She hadn’t made much sense, but then again, she rarely did. Coming from one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast, I’d imagined that was a rich people problem. But the reality was she fired me.
I understood that quite clearly. She’d uttered something about loyalty and the bonds of womanhood or some such thing, then she hung up. To say I was put out would be mild. Truth was, I was pissed.
I didn’t know what bonds of womanhood I had destroyed, but if I was fired, then that meant I needed a new job, and soon. I walked over to the radiator, testing it with my hands. Nope. Still cold, despite Mr. Crawford, my landlord, insisting he fixed the issue with the heat.
I grabbed a wooden spoon and started banging on the cold hunk of metal, cursing it out while I did. Maybe that was why I hadn’t heard anyone knocking on the door. At least, not until they came crashing through it.
“Aghhh!”
“Zaika, are you okay?”
I clapped my hands over my mouth as six and a half feet of furious Russian came racing towards me. His hands dragged me towards him, and he ran them over my lumpy ensemble as if checking me for breaks and fractures. I stood stone still for a moment until sanity returned. Then I slapped at his fingers, and backed up as far as I could, which was all of two feet before the wall stopped me.
“I’m fine! Oh my God, what are you doing here?”
My cheeks were burning, and I could only imagine what I looked like. He dragged his gaze up my body and when it finally met mine—bam. I felt it hit me with all the force of a Mack truck. Attraction sizzled between us, and I had to wonder if maybe I wasn’t hallucinating.
“Boss, is she okay?” a large man wielding a gun asked, and I screamed.
“She is fine. Sofia, this man is my head of security. Why were you banging that spoon?” he asked, dismissing my little freak out.
“What? Oh! Nothing, I was just trying to make the radiator work. But how did you find out where I lived? And who told you my name?”
I was panicking, but who could blame me? There were now four gigantic men stalking around my two by four apartment, walking on my broken linoleum floor with their expensive Italian shoes. I closed my eyes, counting to three. Maybe when I opened them this would all be some cold-induced hallucination?
One. Two. Three. Nope.
He was still there, head canted to the side like a wild animal as he observed my mini melt down. Did he have to be so big? I was short, but I was not a small woman. Still, he made me feel positively petite. I’d had a chance to Google him when I got home, and what I found made my hands tremble as he stood there, taking up all the available space in the room.
Adrik Volkov wasn’t some relative of whoever owned Volkov Industries. He was not some rich guy with a common Russian surname. He was the motherfucking head of Volkov Industries. Rumored to be associated with illegal activities—the guy was a former fucking crime lord, for fuck’s sake!
“Leave us,” he commanded, affording one glance at the head giant who mumbled something into his suit cuff.
My entire body was on high alert, and I hated to admit it, but something happened to me when he barked out commands like that. Something I would deny if asked. I tried to slow my pulse, but nothing could stop my sex from clenching and moisture from pooling between my thighs. Seconds later, the men who’d been scurrying through my apartment hightailed it out of there. They were well-trained, I’d give them that. But still, scary as fuck. I could breathe a little easier without them, but only by a smidgeon.
Adrik watched with a hawk-like focus that made me feel like a bug in a display case. I was stunned. Had no idea what he was doing there or why he had bothered hunting me down. Did he have some sort of spyware that told him when people searched his name on the internet? No. That was dumb. Mostly. Honestly, I didn’t know what he was capable of, but if the rumors were true, it was a lot.
Gulp.
He stood and stared at me, as if waiting for something. But what was I supposed to say to him? I had questions, but none I was secure enough to voice aloud. And definitely not to him. The seconds ticked by slow as hours and I had no idea how long we stood like that, just facing off. I inhaled a deep breath.
“Your face is very revealing, Zaika moya,” he whispered, but I remained quiet.
What could I say, really? I’d never been in a situation like that before. I tried to look unaffected, you know, cool and calm, but I imagined I looked like a crazy person. My getup was downright hilarious next to his fancy suit, but it wasn’t like I’d been expecting company.
“You are thinking something, Zaika. Tell me.”
So, were mind blowing, pussy breaking one night stands supposed to track you down the next day at your apartment and just sorta pop up unannounced for shits and giggles?
But I wasn’t saying all that to him. I mean, who would?
“Pussy breaking? I promise, Zaika moya, if I did this terrible thing, I will fix it,” he whispered, eyes darkening as they raked over my body again.
“Shit. I said that out loud, didn’t I? Um, tea?” I asked, my voice unnaturally high-pitched.
“I drink tea,” he said, following me into my postage stamp sized kitchen.
I pressed the button for the electric kettle and got down two mugs, furiously wiping the one with the impossible to remove coffee stain. He stopped my scrubbing with one big hand on my wrist. I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t, at least, not until my body stopped trembling. He smelled so good. Spicy and expensive. Heat seemed to radiate from him, and in my now frigid apartment, I could not help but move closer, seeking his warmth.
“The cup is clean, Zaika,” he whispered, and his breath tickled my cheek. “Don’t tell me you are nervous after everything we did last night?”
I closed my eyes again at the feel of his warm body almost touching mine, but not quite. The tease. His cologne was something I did not recognize as being anything other than him. It was exotic, unusual, like spice and man and something wild and dangerous.
“Maybe that is why I’m nervous. What are you doing here?” I asked, finally finding the courage to meet his steely gaze.
“I-I have a proposal for you,” he said, but it sounded like he was going to say something else first.
Despite being all but frozen a second ago, I was suddenly sweating like crazy. My heart pounded, and a sizzle of excitement spiked up my spin. A proposal? Was this guy nuts?
“Look, last night was fun and all, but I don’t go around marrying strangers no matter how sexy they are,” I began.
Adrik cocked his head to the side again, eyes flashing with some intense emotion. I couldn’t tell if it was anger, surprise, lust, or maybe repulsion. Then he smirked, and my panties just up and melted. Holy. Shit. No one man should embody that much sex appeal. It just wasn’t fair to the rest of the poor schleps out there trying to get by.