The crackle and heat of the roaring fire soothe my tense muscles when I step into my office.

I light a cigar, grabbing my laptop as I take a seat in front of the hearth. She ran away from me. I smile at the thought.

Terrified. Powerless...or so she thinks.

When I open the computer, I go straight to the security camera in her room. She's staring out the window. Still. Sullen. I smell her fear like blood in the water and I thrive on it. She has no idea what I'm doing—really, for the first time in my life, neither do I. And I must say, the sudden thrill of it is rather intoxicating. For half an hour, she stands at that window, and I wonder what she is thinking about. I would love nothing more than to pluck each angry, fear-riddled idea from her mind and devour it like a fine wine.

There's a knock at my office door. The hinges groan when it's pushed open, but I don't turn around. I keep watching Camilla. Sad little Camilla angry about being owned by the Big Bad Wolf—

"Ronan?" Igor calls from the doorway.

"What is it?"

"Andre is here to see you."

"Of course he is. Everyone is so needy these days." I grab my cigar and set the computer down as I push up from my seat and head to the hallway.

"He's in the sitting room," Igor says.

When I step into the room I find Andre seated on the sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" I ask.

One of his thick brows twitch. "Derivichi is dead." He grins like a shark.

"Yes..." I go to the sideboard and pour a glass of whisky. "As you knew would happen."

"Everything is in motion then?"

I don't look back at him, simply sigh. The naivety of people does annoy me to no end. "Please tell me you are not questioning my ability?"

"No," he's quick to respond, clearing his throat with a nervous cough. "Of course not, I—"

"Now, the thing for you to understand is that timing is of the essence. Everything I direct you to do must be done exactly as I say." I walk to the couch and take a seat across from him. "Once you are sworn in, give it two months," I say, lifting my cigar to my lips.

The door opens and Camilla steps in, hesitating, I assume when she notices Andre. "Ah, Camilla," I say, motioning her in. "Do come in."

Andre cocks a brow. Without a word, she goes to the sideboard and grabs the bottle of vodka. Her and her vodka... She attempts to hurry past us, but I don't intend to make things so easy for little kitty.

I pat the seat next to me. "Come." Smoke billows from my lips. "Have a seat."

Stopping midstride, she narrows her eyes. Her gaze swings from me to Andre before she reluctantly comes and takes a seat beside me.

"You remember Andre?"

Her demeanor changes, her unease around me shifts until that mask of impenetrable confidence once again rests on her pretty face. "Of course. How are you...should I call you Mr. President yet?" she practically purrs.

"She's charming, Ronan. Truly." He smirks before glancing at me. "Two months and then I detonate the missile?"

"Yes." A twinge of exhilaration darts along my spine. "And of course, when war is declared," I say, because it will be, "you set off the other one."

He grins. Cold calculated, dangerous. It's why I like Andre. "Very well," he says and pushes up from the chair, buttoning his jacket as he nods at Camilla. "I'll see you at the funeral?"

"Of course."

Andre laughs as he walks toward the door where Igor waits to show him out.

I glance at Camilla and she's carefully studying me. "Ah, Ronan. So happy when you're playing with your puppets." She brushes her hand over my tie before adjusting the knot. "Although I'm not sure if it's world domination or world war you want."

I smirk. "Are they not one in the same?"

She tilts her head to the side. The way her hair cascades over her face is beautiful, tempting. "Why? Why strive so far when you already have so much? You paint a target on your back. You risk everything."

The answer is so simple, yet so hard for most people to understand: "When you have so much, what else is there to do?"

"So when a man has everything, he seeks his own destruction?" She flashes a wry smile before taking a swig.

"No, I seek the thrill." I take the bottle from her, placing my lips to the rim and gulping the warm liquor back.

"And in doing so, the man who loves control invites chaos."

"Chaos is order waiting to be controlled." I smile.

She shifts closer, wrappings her fingers around the bottle as her eyes drop to my mouth. "Ah, that's where you're wrong. The beauty is all in the chaos. I see the appeal in bombs, powerful weapons. The fire, the cleansing..." Her eyes flash as she retreats, taking the bottle of vodka with her. "But you and I are very different Russian." She takes another swig with her gaze locked on me. "Could it be that you secretly like the anarchy of it all?" She raises an eyebrow before turning the bottle up again.

There is beauty in chaos, beauty in the promise of controlling it. Taming it. Camilla is the embodiment of chaos, and maybe that is why I am so very fascinated with her. "Oh, I very much like it, little kitty." I sweep her hair behind her shoulder, trailing my fingers along the curve of her neck. "And you and I—we are not so different," I whisper. "I take happiness within the suffering of others." Leaning over, I kiss her neck and she shivers. "Tell me, do you like to watch people suffer?"

"I like to watch my enemies suffer."

"Do you want to watch me suffer, Camilla?" I nip at her neck and a soft moan escapes her lips.

"Are you my enemy, Ronan?" There's the slightest sense of vulnerability to her tone. She doesn't want me to be her enemy but she'd never admit it, because then she has lost—at least that's the way she'll see it.

"Tell me," I whisper against her throat, teasing her skin with my teeth. The smell of her skin possesses me, and I find myself gripping her jaw, tilting her head farther and farther to the side until she's nearly laid out on the couch. She swallows heavily and her breath hitches. "Tell me how you'd make me suffer."

"What if I don't want your suffering? What if I were to simply kill you?"

I laugh. "Let's not pretend I'm inconsequential to you, Camilla." I kiss the scab on her throat. "I've taken you, your cartel." Another light kiss farther down her neck. "I've seduced you. Denied you. And now..." I laugh against her soft skin, breathing her in. "Now you truly are mine."

"I will never be yours, Russian." She scratches over my cheek then grips my jaw, her long fingernails digging into my skin. "You're right. I do want your suffering, but...you like pain too much. Maybe I'd just have to cut you, watch your blood stain your skin so beautifully." She nips at my ear and my pulse rises. "You'd be so hard for me. And I'd refuse to fuck you just to watch you suffer."

My eyes flutter shut on a groan, my cock swelling. "You wouldn't refuse me."

"You think too much of yourself, Russian," she says.

I smooth my hand over my shirt before holding it out for her. "Come, little kitty."