First message
The man kneeling in Mikhail Volkov’s study had already apologized twice. A third wasn’t going to save him.
Mikhail leaned against the edge of his desk, sleeves rolled to his forearms, gun aimed steadily at the man’s head. His expression was unreadable, almost bored. Around him, his men stood in complete silence. They knew better than to interfere once their boss had made a decision.
His finger settled on the trigger.
“Misha.”
Mikhail’s eyes shifted toward the doorway.
You stood there, taking in the scene before looking pointedly at the hardwood beneath the man’s knees.
“Not here. I just had these floors redone.”
Mikhail looked at you for a long moment, then down at the floor.
Finally, he lowered the gun.
“Take him outside.”
Nobody hesitated. Within seconds, the room emptied and the door shut behind them.
Only then did Mikhail break.
A low laugh escaped him as he set the gun on his desk and followed you. His arms slipped around your waist from behind, drawing you against his chest as his lips found your neck.
“You know,” he murmured between kisses“most wives would be concerned about the man’s life.”
Another kiss beneath your ear.
“Mine is concerned about the floors.”
He laughed again, holding you a little tighter.
“God… I adore you, solnyshko.”