Preferential Treatment (Indecent Proposals Book 2) by Heather Guerre

Author:Heather Guerre [Guerre, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-20T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

His fixation on Kate Pasternak was becoming a problem.

The sight of her crying had been burned into his brain, and it kept cropping up at inopportune moments. Every time, he was overcome with the urge to call her, to see her, just to make sure she wasn’t crying.

And if she was… then what? Panic again? Buy her more ice cream? He wasn’t emotionally equipped to comfort another person, but Kate’s tears had gotten under his skin like acid and now he couldn’t stop wondering why she’d been crying. Maybe it had been hormones, like she claimed, but still, something had to have been the catalyst. Was it something he’d done?

“—sent him the numbers, and he agreed with Roberts. It’s not worth the risk. So, obviously, the decision is yours, but the reports are all pretty conclusive.”

Mikhail pulled his phone away from his ear for a second, suddenly aware that he’d sat through an entire conversation without absorbing a single word, distracted by thoughts of the sorceress he’d mistakenly sold his soul to. He suppressed a growl of frustration and brought the phone back to his ear.

“We’ll discuss it more when I get back from Shanghai. I have to let you go, we’re about to land.”

They were about to do no such thing. His jet was still somewhere over Siberia. The far eastern reaches of his fatherland. His hand went to his throat, loosening his tie so that he could reach into his collar and pull out the silver chain he always wore. He gripped the Marian medallion, stroking his thumb pensively over the engraved surface. The warmth of the metal, the familiar feel, soothed his agitated mind. He stared out the window, seeing nothing but cloud cover below, and night sky above.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, dropping the medal as soon as he recognized the name on the screen—Княжна. Knyazhna.

Have you been good today?

Mikhail glanced at his watch, still set to Chicago time. It was seven in the morning there. The corner of his lip crooked up into an unintentional smile. Was this the equivalent of a “good morning” text?

Of course I have. I’m always good.

Her reply was immediate: I think you know that I need proof.

Suppressing a smile, he got up and went to the lavatory at the back of the jet. Inside, he flipped his tie over his shoulder and unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it open and tugged up his undershirt, revealing the smudged message written across his abdomen in permanent marker: Property of Kate. She’d written it on him after more than an hour of increasingly torturous edging in which she’d sat primly in his office chair while he knelt before her, and commanded him to stroke himself—stopping him every time he got close to coming. When she’d finally let him come, the shattering pleasure had nearly killed him. He’d been slumped against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe while Kate uncapped a marker and labeled him as hers.

“Don’t wash this off,” she’d commanded silkily.

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