Russian Boss’s Secret Baby by Bella King
Ch 8
SLATE
I’ve been watching Mia since we pulled away from the club. Whether she knows it or not, she’s got a very focused persona that she employs when she’s scared, and that’s exactly the kind of personality I need for my assistant.
Right now, she looks like a clueless nobody that is being apprehended by a large tattooed criminal, which is not entirely untrue, and I can’t blame her reactions at all. However, like all young women in Miami, she is either struggling heavily financially, or she is selling her soul not to be. That’s how things work around here.
“Listen, I can see things. I’m very wealthy. I can see when people try to project a better situation in life for appearances, as you have done by picking this necklace you wear. Or the clothes you have on. You enjoy projecting wealth, you enjoy the image, but you are poor as shit. Am I wrong?”
Mia sets back a bit, the flames in her eyes abating as she considers. “I’m supporting myself and my sick father. He’s trying to see a specialist soon,” she replies. Her expression tells me that she regrets telling me so much at once, as if maybe it won’t get her the desired result. Appealing to sympathy points is a dangerous game.
“I guess it just doesn’t pay to look poor if I don’t have to,” she continues. “I need customers to like me so they tip more. Nobody wants a cheap whore.”
“You’re correct,” I say. “So you need customers to like you, or your father will die and you will be homeless.”
She recoils. “God, that’s unnecessary,” she mutters. “ But yes, you’re correct. I’ll be homeless and my dad will die. Thanks for making that abundantly clear.”
I like her tenacity. I need to make her mine, one way or another. That feistiness usually translates well to the bedroom.
“What if I could make that go away? I can’t heal your father, no, but I can take that strain off you. Easily. The kind of money you make at that club per week is what I spend on parking. More money would help, wouldn’t it?” I ask.
“I already agreed,” she says sharply. “But I don’t know if I have the right skill set for what you’re involved with.”
I laugh a bit. “Mia, the woman you’re replacing doesn’t know that Delaware is a real state. You can learn anything that you need to so long as you are willing.”
“Fine, then yes. I will join you. But I don’t work for free. If I feel like you’re taking advantage of me, I’m out,” she says resolutely.
“I think maybe you should watch your tone,” Michael interjects, whom I swiftly smack on the back of the head.
“Get out of here and let me conduct business,” I bark at him.
Michael receded into himself.
I turn my attention back to Mia. “I know you are scared. Terrified, probably. But please do not be, I will ensure you are well cared for. You will see that soon enough. For tomorrow though, we have some important things to take care of,” I say.
Mia doesn’t reply.
I move past her towards a laptop sitting on top of a large cherrywood desk in the corner of the room. “Your work starts now.”
Mia nods, snapping out of her daze. “Okay, damn, you guys really don’t mess around,” she says, more to herself than any of us.
“Shootings don’t stop business. In fact, nothing does, as you’ll learn,” I explain. “Tonight, we have someone we need to find and put on the straight and narrow.”
I open the laptop and find myself back in the deep web. “There’s someone in the area who’s selling impure coke under my name. He thinks he’s untouchable because he’s an idiot. So we’re going to go get him. We just want to talk.”
Mia looks at me questioningly. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to be bringing me along for something like that? I just got here,” she says, folding her arms over her belly as though she had already used up all of her bravado for the day and was struggling to keep her guts from spilling out.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It gives you a good impression of the kinds of work we do,” I say.
She seems intrigued, leaning forward slightly.
“Honestly, we don’t need more trouble than he’s worth. We aren’t trying to use force if we don’t need to. If it comes to that, okay,” I continue, attempting to lessen the apprehension that she is no doubt feeling.
“Okay, that sounds fine, I’ll just try to be quiet and watch I guess,” she says in a low voice, as if she is meticulously choosing her words to avoid sounding like she’s nervous.
I know she is. There’s no way she’s not.
“It’s decided, then,” I say, snapping the laptop shut. “It’s like a police ride-along, except the complete opposite.”
“Can’t wait,” she replies dryly.
I meet her gaze from across the room, and I can feel the energy between us becoming charged. With what? Am I projecting her nerves onto myself? Is it the undeniable physical chemistry that has been tormenting me this entire time?
There’s no way she doesn’t feel it. Maybe putting some danger into her will shake it loose.
