𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝕸𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝕲𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊

Chapter Fifty Nine {Davinia} 🌹

"I-I'm sorry," he rasps, desperately fighting for air. His eyes water, turning red, and his mouth gapes open like a fish, gasping for breath.

I despise men like him. Not only did he audaciously stare at my chest, but his eyes openly mocked me. No one can make me feel inferior. No. One. I twirl the tie around his neck and tighten it even more.

"For your sake, I hope I don't hear reports of you brazenly harassing women. Best believe I'll be keeping an eye on you from now on," I sneer, leaning closer to him. His eyes start to roll back. "Understood?"

He stiffly nods, and I immediately release him. He gasps loudly, his arms falling to the floor as he struggles to catch his breath. His body heaves heavily, inhaling and exhaling.

I watch him with contempt. I've dealt with my fair share of despicable perverts, and I have no regrets about making their lives miserable.

My eyes lift to meet Rolan's gaze. He looks back at me, seemingly amused and proud. I choose to ignore it and settle back into my seat.

It takes him half a minute to regain his breath and salvage his wounded pride. He fails at the latter but does a good job of concealing it, at least from everyone except me and Rolan. The embarrassing and life-threatening encounter with a woman will remain a secret, hidden from the world.

He addresses Rolan with his head hanging low in shame and fear, his hands folded in front of him. I can hardly hear his voice; he had no problem introducing himself and stating his position earlier. Pft, something must have affected his throat. Seconds later, he hastily exits the office.

Now that he's gone, the room descends into an awkward silence, or perhaps it's just me. The reality of my impending marriage to Rolan is starting to sink in. I'm going to be married to this man, and then what? Am I expected to produce an heir? How many children does he plan on having? How many do I want? Did I even think this through? Oh my God...

"Davinia," Rolan's voice breaks through my thoughts.

My body jerks back to reality, and Rolan crouches in front of me. I search his icy eyes with frantic movements.

"Something is bothering you. What is it?" His voice is low and soft, warming my heart and evoking a strange and unfamiliar sensation. Absentmindedly, I lick my upper lip before speaking.

"No-"

"Do not lie to me, Anís." His face suddenly inches closer to mine, his hands gripping my thighs tightly. I blink twice. He has me cornered, his unblinking eyes penetrating mine, as if he can expose my lies merely by watching. My tongue instinctively darts out to moisten my upper lip again.

"How many kids do you plan on having?" I try to keep my voice steady and composed, but it wavers slightly at the end.

He smirks and leans closer, his breath grazing my lips, sending a chill down my upper lip. "Why? Are you scared?"

I scoff, despite the nervousness coursing through my veins. "Forget it."

"If it puts you at ease, I wouldn't mind raising a whole football team." My eyes widen, and I glare at him. He must be joking, but there's no trace of amusement or jest on his face, so he seems serious.

"A football team?"

"A football team. Scared?" he taunts.

I glance down at his large hands gripping my thighs and mutter, "Can you even handle that?" My gaze flickers up to meet his narrowed eyes. He leans closer, and I hold my breath, but instead of his lips meeting mine, he moves to the right side of my face and trails his lips down to my ear. A shiver runs through me.

He breathes into my ear, his voice husky. "Is that a challenge or an insult?"

I close my eyes, willing myself to breathe properly, as I nervously clench and unclench my hands. I need to change the subject before I dig myself into a hole.

"Mall." The word blurts out in shock when his hot tongue touches the skin of my ear. He pauses briefly, then continues, but I stand my ground.

"I want to open a mall for my brand right here in your hotel!" The words rush out of my mouth. I feel a tight sensation between my legs as he sucks on my collarbone and bites down, surely leaving a mark.

"Rolan."

"Mmh," he replies, attacking my neck once more. His hands trail up my body, and soft pants escape my lips as he continues his assault. I tilt my head, granting him more access. One of his hands ventures up the front of my bralette top, tracing the intricate pattern of the zipper until he reaches the butterfly-shaped zipper head. He tries to pull it down, but it refuses to budge.

"It doesn't work," I say, letting out a sigh at the end. He curses, possibly in Russian, but I'm not entirely sure.

Shit. I forgot about the mall.

"Rolan. Mall. Stop," I pant, and immediately he tears himself away from me and stands back up.

Swiftly, he strides back to his seat and settles behind his desk.

I seize the opportunity to compose myself, gathering my thoughts and adjusting my appearance. I can't believe I just let that happen. My self-control seems to slip away whenever I'm with this man.

Standing up, I walk over to him and stand beside his desk. He turns his chair to face me, his mischievous eyes scanning my body as if I were a prize, while I attempt not to let it affect me.

"Can I use it real quick?" I motion toward his laptop, and he nods, but he doesn't make any move to stand and give me space. I glance between him and the laptop, and he shrugs, looking down at his thighs clad in black tailored pants.

I take a quick breath. I can do this. With determination, I sit on his lap and begin typing on his laptop, ignoring the heat radiating through my body and the unashamed bulge pressing against my thigh.

He makes no attempt to touch me, but I can feel his gaze fixated on me. I open my brand's website and show him the updates.

"I've realized that we have fewer designs available here in Moscow, and I'd like to rectify that. Your hotel is a perfect spot for that, or there's this other hotel, Tina's fr-" My words are abruptly cut off when I feel his warmth behind me.

He gently tucks my hair behind my ear and whispers, "I would want nothing more than to always be your first choice, Anís. Whatever I own is yours. Do as you please."