Saved by the bell, she thought, dragging in desperate gulps of air to fill her burning lungs. She couldn’t help but watch him—Vitali—as he strode across the room to answer the phone, the bottom of his suit coat hid his ass from her view, but she’d be fooling herself if she thought there wasn’t a honed, rock hard booty behind those tailored slacks.

She couldn’t tear her eyes from him. The black of his hair glinted beneath the light of the giant chandelier overhead, the thick lustrous locks begging for her fingers to slide through them. They’d be soft, silky, the perfect handhold for when she lay under him, a slave to his demands on her body. He’d brush his sexy lips over her neck, murmuring dirty words to her in Russian, then he’d press her down, putting all his weight on her, and she’d mewl, moaning like a cat in heat, and then he’d drag his mouth down, taking her nipple—

Whoa! Where had that come from? She’d never let a man put his arm around her waist before, and now she was having dirty, breathtakingly vivid thoughts about a man she’d only known for twenty minutes? But, hell, what a man he was. Her gaze remained on his back, admiring the height, the breadth, the very strength pulsing from his frame. His broad shoulders filled that coat nicely—perfectly—and the way he smelled… God damn, she was in trouble. How had she ended up here, with him? He was what erotic romance novels were made of, the stuff of naughty dreams and dirty imaginings. And yet, he was just across the room, speaking into the receiver in that deep, rumbling, sexy as hell voice of his. Her body in flames, the very core of her roiling—in the anticipation of pleasure and the twinge of fear, she held her breath as he terminated the call and turned back toward her, his eyes pinning her to the luxurious leather couch like a stick pin through a mounted butterfly. How could a single look from Vitali have reduced her to a babbling, fumbling, practically whimpering lamb—in the sights of a ruthless predator, no less?

Get it together, Mari! Yeah, but how was that supposed to work? The sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on was now stalking across the room toward her, a sly smile on his gorgeous lips… The same lips that had told her he’d wanted her since he’d seen her…and that he wanted to kiss her. Her! Mariana Sanchez, chubby Latina, the bookworm, the nerd, the hopeless spinster, without a single notch in her bedpost.

Suddenly, a band of iron fused itself to her back, strengthening her flagging resolve. She was here, with him, because she’d decided that enough was enough—she was tired of being lonely, of her life being one rut after another. And, from the looks of him, Vitali Pavlovich was the perfect man to pull her from her ruts and help her to realize the life she’d been skirting until now.

He was the sexiest damn man in the whole world. Wasn’t that a bonus? And they were getting married—but first…

“Before we go any further,” she said, her all-business tone making its appearance—thank God!— “I think we need to discuss the details of the contract.” That got her another raised eyebrow, this one nearly flying into his hairline.

A simmering, intense look flashed through his eyes before being doused by that same chilly intensity she’d seen when she spied him for the first time. Good. She needed him to back away, give her some breathing room. She couldn’t think if she overheated.

“A lawyer through and through…” he drawled, raking his emerald gaze over her before sitting down in the upholstered chair across from the couch. He leaned back in the seat, crossed his leg over his knee, and placed the flat of his hands on the upholstered arms of the chair. Once again Mariana couldn’t tear her gaze away; the man was all power and sexual potency, even when he was giving the impression of ease. Simply sitting there, Vitali gave off wave after wave of dangerous, intoxicating, and utterly palpable masculinity. Strangely disappointed that he hadn’t sat next to her again, and angry at her disappointment, she charged ahead.

Biting the inside of her cheek to steady herself, she met his gaze head-on. “Not just a lawyer, the best damn lawyer, under 30, in Chicago.” That was her fiery, defiant voice, one she’d usually kept at bay, but around Vitali, she was losing her cool. Dammit, Mari! Clearing her throat, and checking her attitude, she continued, “I took my time looking over the contract provided by Ms. Creed.”

Vitali didn’t bat an eye, didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even seem to be breathing. It was unnerving, how he could stare at her so intently. Swallowing, she waited another moment to give him a chance to chime in. When he didn’t, she cocked an eyebrow then tipped her head, ever so slightly, in the way that usually unsettled her opposition.

“This is the part where you ask me if I have any questions,” she drawled, crossing her arms over her chest in a show of nonchalance she wasn’t feeling.

Nothing. The man continued to watch her, his eyes never leaving her face, and she couldn’t figure out what the hell he was thinking about. Moments ago, the man was fire, but now…he was ice. Perhaps talk of business wasn’t the way to go.

But she persisted, because, while she was shit at relationships, she was a goddess in the courtroom. “While I agreed to marry you—and all the conditions that come with that change in status, I think it best that we take some time to get to know one another before we consummate—”

Vitali shot forward in his seat, his eyes blazing. “No,” he barked. And she felt the edge of her restraint slip.

“What do you mean, no?” she asked, her voice lowering in warning, like a lioness voicing her displeasure.

He rose to his full height, dwarfing her, where she sat on the couch. So, she stood up, too. He was still a head taller than her, though, so she craned her head to meet his gaze, which was pouring cold fire into her.

He stepped around the coffee table with a predatory grace that struck her dumb—something that was happening much too frequently as of late. Once he was standing before her, he reached up and grasped her chin in his large, rough, hot hand, holding her in place. She bit her lip, uncertainty and wariness warring against her desire to remain calm. His green eyes followed the movement of her mouth as she nibbled nervously. Fire bloomed to life in his gaze, and he growled. “I mean that I have already waited two years for you, Mariana. I refuse to wait another day to make you mine.”

The urge to take her bottom lip between his own teeth throbbed through him with a crashing wave of desire. She didn’t know the power she wielded over him; her movements and reactions were not some elaborate yet subtle form of seduction. She was guileless but undeniably compelling.

He refused to let her wiggle her luscious ass out of consummating their marriage. Even now, every instinct to claim her roared from within him, snapping its jaws, unsheathing its claws, desperate to rip that skirt from her body, spread her thighs apart, and lap at her cunny like a starving beast.

His cock raged just as hard, and he knew he was letting his body rule his brain, but the look of defiance on her face made the beast within him roar all the more. What he wouldn’t give to see that expression melt into one of utter surrender.

Squaring his shoulders, he scrubbed a hand down his face, turning away from her to put some distance between them.

From behind him, her husky voice slid over his senses like a silk sheet. “Two years? I’ve only known you for half an hour…” He could feel her gaze boring into him, her puzzlement out of place in her usually confident demeanor—not that she’d let him know he’d shaken her, even a little bit. The sound of her breath catching brought him around to look at her. She’d gone pale, her lustrous eyes wide, and her mouth set in a grim line.

“Now I know why your name sounds so familiar—you’re Vitali Pavlovich, owner of Trans-Global Corporation,” she said, almost accusingly. “I won a case against your company in 2016.” She gasped, her color returning. “Is that what this is about? You wanting to get back at me for winning in court?” Her voice had taken on a disgusted tone that pulled at his already taut nerves.

“Blyad. Hell no,” he growled. “I would never take your victory and taint it like that. You won that case, fair.” Something in his voice must’ve been convincing because her shoulders relaxed and her stance eased—just enough for her to cross her arms again. Her breasts heaved upward, nearly toppling over the neckline of her sweater.

Fuck me.

“Fine, then what is this about? I never met you, you sent your lackeys—and that female Terminator—to do the negotiating and litigation.”

He fought the urge to smirk at her description of Lyuba. It was a fitting one.

“Da. I am usually hands-off during court cases in the U.S.”

She gave a quick nod. “So. Explain…” she commanded, her hands dropping to plant firmly on the curves of her hips. He knew what she meant; how could he possibly want her without actually having met her?

He’d never been one to pull his punches—as Americans would say—and he’d never denied himself anything as achingly long as he’d denied himself Mariana.

“During the litigation phase of the trial, I snuck into the back of the courtroom. I wanted to see the woman who had tied my multi-million-dollar legal team in knots. My first sight of you pulled the rug out from under me; you were wearing a black skirt, white blouse, and blood-red blazer… I nearly climbed out of my skin with the need to know who you were. When Byron Dreven, lead counsel in that case, told me you were the opposing counsel, I knew I was well and truly fucked.”

He stepped toward her, the need to touch her overwhelming him. He reached out and slid the pad of his finger over her cheek. She shivered.

“You weren’t just the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen, I knew that you were intelligent, clever, driven, and passionate—all things I wanted in the woman who would share my bed.”