He shook his head at her in feigned disappointment. “It’s not my fault I will always turn more heads than you ever can.”
“Oh my God,” she groaned. “You’re so full of it.”
“I’m simply telling the truth,” he said piously, “however unfair it is.”
Red-faced with irritation, she slapped his shoulder with the script. “It’s guys like you I hate the most.”
“You’ve been telling me that for six years now.” Snatching the script from her hands, he unrolled it, asking, “What’s the favor, then?”
Squirming, she said, “I think I’m just going to ask her myself—-” Her voice trailed off as Vassi glanced up.
“Are you implying anything?” he asked pleasantly.
“Nope, and will you stop looking at me like that? It’s seriously terrifying.” Taking a deep breath, she admitted reluctantly, “I was hoping you could ask your sister to give me pointers.”
He nodded. “That won’t be a problem.”
She brightened. “Really?”
He pressed the up button for the elevator. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” The doors slid open and he stepped inside. “Are you heading back up?”
Daniela shook her head. “I’m done for today. Thanks again.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“Tomorrow.” Daniela’s fingers curled into a fist.
Grinning, he bumped his fist with her. “You really haven’t changed at all.”
The doors slid close, and now that he was alone, Vassi’s face turned grim.
He took his phone out and sent a message to the guy heading the family corporation’s security department.
Full report: Daniela Martin.
While he didn’t think Daniela was the type to tattle on him and Seri, it didn’t mean he was willing to take any chances.
The security officer replied immediately.
Outside the lobby, a limousine remained temporarily parked by the front doors. Inside of it, Seri only managed to tear her gaze away from the scene when Vassi stepped inside the elevator and their co-actress headed to the bar.
Seeing that it was all over, Max told his driver, “We can go now.”
When Max faced her again, she said guiltily, “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
He said calmly, “If you feel guilty because you’re still thinking about him while you’re with me—-” He shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way. Forcing yourself to forget him will only make you think of him more and—-” His lips formed a crooked smile. “That’s definitely something I don’t want.”
Max slowly reached for her hand across the wide space that separated them, giving her all the time in the world to move away.
But she didn’t.
His fingers found hers.
“You can cry if you want, Seri.”
And then she looked at him, whispering brokenly, “That’s the thing, Max. I want to. But I can’t. I want to cry so it can be over, but I just can’t.”
Entering the recording studio thirty minutes before call time, Seri was about to take a sip of her latte when she saw that she wasn’t the first one to arrive. Seated on the solitary couch was—-
“Hello, little sister,” Vassi drawled.
Seri almost spewed her coffee out. What was he doing here? And was it just her imagination, or did his Russian accent seem thicker and sexier than usual?
Vassi watched Seri slowly come through the doorway, looking everywhere but him. Which was a good thing, he thought grimly, since it allowed him to stare his fill of her.
Her hair was slightly wet, and his jaw clenched at the thought of her taking a bath in Maximilian Rockford’s home.
As Seri nervously took her place behind the first of a long line of microphone stands, she suddenly sensed someone coming to stand beside her—-
How could she stop loving him when he kept getting close to her?
“Nothing to say, Seri?”
She tensed. It’s a trap, Seri, she warned herself. So don’t talk, don’t even look at him.
But with Vassi just standing there silently, the solid, throbbing heat of his body seducing her, tempting her, breaking her—-
Oh God, those two months in Tokyo clearly did nothing, Seri realized in despair.
She still loved him.
Too much than what was right or safe.
And now, she couldn’t help herself, raising her head to meet his gaze—-
Those silver eyes that could still make her do anything—-
That beautiful face which she so loved to stare at—-
Seri finally managed to tear her gaze away from him. “What do you want, Vassi?” This time, to play it safe she fixed her gaze on his chest, its sculpted form accentuated by his knitted gray V-necked shirt—-
She hastily lowered her gaze past his chest and ended up staring at the way his tight – really tight – denims mold to the shape of his dick—-
And oh God, was she imagining things again or did Vassi’s dick seem enormously, rigidly—-
Her gaze flew to him in shock.
“What can I say?” he asked blandly. “Even though I already know you’re a mercenary bitch—-”
“I still want to—-”
The sound of the door opening cut him off, but both of them knew she didn’t have to hear him finish his sentence to understand his meaning.