My heart tripped with panic. “I don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Sevastyan frowned.

“Two men.” Instinctively, I retreated a step—then realized with a start that I hadn’t taken a step toward the door; I’d taken a step closer to Sevastyan.

“Ah. Vasili’s my head of security and right-hand man. Has been for over a decade.”

Relief sailed through me.

Vasili grated something in Russian. Sevastyan responded. I couldn’t understand the words, but there was no mistaking Sevastyan’s do not fuck with me tone. He looped his arm around me, drawing me close, which seemed to surprise Vasili.

More evidence that Sevastyan didn’t like to touch or be touched? Or he hadn’t in the past?

In English, he said, “Vasili was just leaving.”

The man shot me a cutting look as he passed.

When we were alone, I said, “He certainly doesn’t like me.”

“He’s suspicious because he can’t find information about you. Anyone who comes in contact with me more than once would have an inch-thick dossier by now.”

That sounded risky, but I’d only be here for another hour or so, then adiós.

I set down my jacket and purse. “I don’t appreciate being strong-armed into a date at the last minute. I do have a life, you know.”

“In my experience, most escorts don’t have to be ‘strong-armed’ into dating billionaires.”

“Oh, baby boy”—I gave him an embarrassed for you wince—“you weren’t quite a billionaire today, now, were you?”

His lips curved. “Bad day in the markets. So you looked me up? And you still give me shit?”

Growing serious, I said, “I didn’t appreciate you violating my privacy. I meant what I said Monday night: I wanted my line to stay private.”

“You’re really angry about that? I know something that will cheer you.” He crossed to his briefcase, offering me a stack of hundreds, bound with a currency strap. “Five thousand. I assume you won’t try to haggle for more after our first night.”

I followed him, accepting the money. This would be twelve grand in two nights! Plus the phone number fee! Still, when I thought of how miserable I’d been over the last two days—and his high-handedness today—I found myself saying, “No haggling. With the late-booking fee, it’s ten thousand. Or I take the party in my tiny dress somewhere else.”

I knew I’d aimed too low when he handed me another stack—as if I’d asked him to pass the salt.

My anger faded. I could afford to get another number. Wasn’t like I would need to update my contact info with all my friends and family, since I had neither. Once I left town, I’d toss the phone anyway.

As if in a dream, I floated toward my purse to stash my windfall.

When I returned, his gaze raked over me in a way that made me want to fan myself. My nipples were already straining against the silk.

“I thought I told you to wear something sexy.” A joke out of the Russian? “Why didn’t you dress like this last time? I only turned you away because you appeared almost . . . wholesome. At least from the front.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would take me out. Now I know you won’t.”

He crossed to stand in front of me, seeming to make a visible effort to keep his eyes on my face. “Perhaps I would if I had no time limit.”

“You’re the one who called at the last minute.”

“I began calling late this afternoon.”

I tapped my chin. “Then that sounds like a you problem.”

“Where were you tonight?”

“I told you. Here and there.”

“Do you have a standing date?”

“Boundaries, Sevastyan. That’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business when your schedule affects my plans.”

His plans consisted of depositing sperm into a condom, then dozing off. How nice life must be for him.

“And following another is not my style.” He stalked even closer.

“You aren’t, okay? Not that you’ll believe me. I haven’t had sex with anyone but you in a while.”

“Have you thought about me?”

“Fleetingly.”

His lips curled again. Not surprisingly, he had a sexy grin. Everything about him was sexy to me. When charming and warm like this, he was a different man. One I found myself dangerously attracted to.

He pulled me closer, lowering his head. His scent washed over me, sending shivers over my body. “I think you missed me, Katya.”

Oh, my name in his accent made my toes curl!

Right at my ear, he said, “I think you replayed what we did, and it made your soft little pussy wet.”

His rasped words turned me on so fast and so hard, I gasped. His mouth descended over mine. I tasted a bite of vodka as he gave me sensuous flicks of his tongue.

So much for my wall and boundaries. I welcomed his kiss, lapping back. Just like that, the fire raged, and my fingers dug into his shoulders. When he clamped my thigh to his hip, I rocked my hips to him.

He broke from the kiss to ask, “Did you miss this”—he thrust his hard cock against me—“for two days?”

I moaned, nodding, grinding back.

“It wouldn’t take much to make you come, would it?” He nuzzled my neck. “Rub your sweet clit with my thumb and you’d go off.”

“Try me—”