“I asked you a question, Sitnikov,” she spat his name like it was a curse. “What do you want?”

His thin lips curled up in a cruel smile – though, to be fair, she didn’t think the hard slash of his mouth was made for anything other than cruel expressions. “Ah, Jane, now that is a question with many answers. Few that I think you would enjoy quite yet.” He leaned back, his chair creaking against the worn tile of her kitchen floor.

Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m definitely not in the mood for word games, Sitnikov. Why the fuck are you here, in my home? One would think that you’d prefer to keep your distance from the cop that’s about to take you down.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “You have a smart mouth, Jane, you should be careful what you say with it, lest a concerned citizen step in to shut those lovely lips,” he remarked quietly. “Call me Vladimir.”

“Not in this lifetime, Sit-ni-kov,” she sneered, pronouncing each syllable of his last name deliberately. “Also, I’m pretty sure that was a threat you were uttering. You might want to step lightly while in the presence of a police officer and her gun. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to claim self-defense if a suspected mob boss were shot in my apartment.”

A muscle in his strong jaw jumped. The sudden tightening of his body was barely perceptible, except to the eyes of an experienced cop. She’d spent enough time in the interrogation room to know when a man was stopping himself from lunging across the table toward her. She almost smirked at the thought of getting a reaction out of a man like Sitnikov. She really did have a remarkable tendency to piss people off. It was how she had made detective at such a young age. Her dogged determination combined with her take-no-prisoners attitude had impressed the higher ups. Plus, she pissed off her beat sergeant to the point where he was happy to see her promoted and out of his department.

“I have an offer for you,” Sitnokov said, his dark eyes drinking her in.

She arched her eyebrow. “This should be good.”

“Be my mistress.”

Jane sat frozen in her chair caught between laughter at the absurdity of his proposition, and terror. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You would let a cop get that close to you? Just to scratch an itch? You like to live dangerously, don’t you, Sitnikov? Sure, yeah, let’s do it. Can we go back to your place now? Can I have the code to your safe before we get down?”

His lips curled in a quasi smile at her sarcasm. “No, I would not allow a police detective access to my private life,” he said calmly.

Jane frowned. “I don’t understand. Supposedly you want to have a fling with me, a detective, but you don’t plan on letting law enforcement near you. I’m not sure how long it’s been for you, but usually that kind of intimacy requires a physical presence. Not that I’m even remotely entertaining the idea of any kind of relationship with you. Not happening, Russian.” She spat the last word.

He didn’t seem to enjoy the way she spoke to him. His body was rigid in the seat and he seemed to be struggling with himself. She was happy to have a weapon close at hand. She suspected that no one spoke to the Boss the way she just had. Or if they did, they quickly found themselves without a tongue and having silent conversations with fishes. She had to bite her own tongue just from pointing out her original assertion that she tended to annoy people.

“Listen to my offer, then give your opinion, woman.” He deliberately sneered the last word. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, taking in every expression that crossed her features. “You will quit your job and come to live with me. For a time, we will share a home and a bed. I will pay you a monthly fee that will make your current salary look like a child’s allowance. I will also give you a generous settlement and a house once we have finished our association.”

Jane’s breath caught in her chest and pain blossomed. She felt sudden and intense hatred for the man sitting across from her. It made her feel out of control, something she hadn’t felt for years. Not one to hide her feelings, Jane reached out and picked up the gun. She pointed it at him, flipped the safety off and said, “We’re done with this conversation. You can go now.”

His dark eyes snapped in fury before he hid it under his usual icy visage. “You do not like my terms, though they are more than generous? Name what it is you want then, I may be willing to negotiate.”

Jane clenched her teeth and spoke in a furious voice. “I want you to admit to the murder of Dennis Yankovich. On record. Then I want you to go rot in a federal prison somewhere for the rest of your life. In the mean time, you can take your offer and go fuck yourself.”

He thought for a moment, his body straining in his seat, and then shook his head slightly. “I don’t think I will accommodate that request, no matter how attractive I find you. Put the gun down, Jane. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Fuck you, Sitnikov. Get out of my apartment. Now!” she snapped. “The answer is no. You don’t get to touch me, ever.”

Sitnikov stood, his long limbs unfolding with the fluidity of a lion rising from its rest. Jane stood also, not wanting to feel small or trapped around this predatory man. He stalked around the table toward her. His lean, muscular body tensed with lethal intent. Jane brought the gun up, her grip steady and professional. She snapped, “Stop, don’t you come near me!”

Rather than waste time responding, Sitnikov stepped swiftly to the side, forcing her to bring her gun arm around. Before the gun settled on him again, he reached out and gripped her wrist in a ruthless hold that made her cry out, and yanked the gun from her grip with his other hand. He moved so quickly Jane didn’t have a chance. He flipped the safety back on and tossed the gun in the direction of her couch.

“No!” she gasped as he took hold of her arms and hauled her bodily up against his hard chest.

Jane struggled in his hold, but was easily subdued. He was nearly a foot taller than her and outweighed her by a fair amount. His skill in subduing an armed opponent was undeniable. He held her easily, heat radiating from his much larger body into hers.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! I don’t want your offer, my answer is no. Now go away!”

His fingers tightened around her arms and he lifted her up until only the tips of her bare toes touched the floor and she was forced to brace her hands against his hard body for stability. She felt the flexed pectoral muscles under his expensive shirt. His heart beat steadily against her fingertips. He dropped his face towards hers, his lips inches from her mouth. Their breaths mingled as tension snapped in the air around them. He smelled like mint with a hint of cigar and vodka. She braced herself against his chest, her fingers digging into the muscles, as she tried ineffectively to push him away.

“I have no intention of hurting you, Jane. Not tonight, anyway.” His voice was deep and steady. “But you mistake my intention in coming here. The offer is not contingent on your acceptance. The offer is a bonus for what is inevitable. You will become my mistress.”

* * *