“Hiii! Just me!”
Fun.
“Oh my God, Ilovethis place—oh!”
Two things happen simultaneously. The first is that Dasha Lukashova almost stumbles backward as she steps into my loft through the unlocked door—exactly as I told her to—and sees her fiancé on his knees with my cock down his throat.
The second is that Roman almost has a fucking heart attack, scrambling to his feet and then literally falling onto the couch next to me, his eyes wide with horror as his face drains of all color.
“I—”
“This—”
“Not—”
Random words just…dribblefrom his mouth as he stares in abject terror at Dasha—who, to her credit, isn’t losing her shit or screaming or anything.
Honestly? I knew she wouldn’t, which is why I played it this way. Yes, I could have easily sat her down and explained everything. But the shock value here is important. It lets her know when I get to the next part that I’m crazy enough not to ignore.
“Dasha—” Roman blurts. “I—this isn’t?—”
“No, it’s pretty muchexactlywhat she thinks, isn’t it?” I’ve got a smug, shit-eating grin on my face as I tuck my dick back into my pants and stand. “Dasha,babe, please have a seat.”
I smile as I gesture to the chair across from me, facing the couch.
“Youson of a bitch?—”
“Let’s drop the bullshit, all of us, okay?” I turn to smile at her. “Dasha, the reason you just walked in on what you did?—”
“Youtold meto come over right now!” she shrieks. “You said your door would be unlocked?—”
“Which it was.”
“—and we were going to have coffee somewhere!” she says shrilly.
Hmm, yes. Thatiswhat I told her.
“Have a seat, gorgeous,” I smile at her. “Please.”
She huffs and angrily sits in the chair, still shooting daggers at Roman.
“First of all,” I say pleasantly, “stop glaring at him like that.”
Roman’s face swivels to mine, pale as a sheet, his wide eyes screaming “are you fucking insane”.
Maybe. Possibly.
Probably.
Dasha shoots me a cold look. “Do you know what would happen if I told anyone about what I just walked in?—”
“Oh, I think weallknow what would happen,” I growl. “Which is why I know you won’t.”
She stares at me. “His father would fucking?—”
“True,” I shrug. “But it’s not him you're really worried about, is it?”
Her mouth purses.
