Diamonds Dancing

Sixteen

Trying to put a six-foot-five Russian to bed was a sport in itself, adding alcohol into the mix made it a recipe for disaster.

She had never imagined anything remotely similar to the situation she was currently in, being apart of her job description, but alas, nothing in her life was predictable, and this was just another clear example of exactly that.

Rika let out deep grunting noise, pulling the heavy body behind her, "One more step and we're almost there..." babbling under her breath, she couldn't be more relieved to see the master bedroom. It was way easier attempting to get two kids who were both under the age of ten to bed than it was him, she never thought she would be saying that.

Stopping when they reached the massive bed in the middle of the darkroom, she manoeuvred her body around so that she was staring at him. "Okay well, if you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen."

She didn't know what else to do or say, she had taken him to his room as she planned. Though, she didn't think far ahead to realise that the kind act would make their already awkward predicament ten times more awkward.

He looked a hot mess, dishevelled mousy-brown hair sticking in every direction, paired with an untucked black shirt and matching slacks. After the merry dinner, they had decided to dress in their fancier clothes, hence his change in apparel, a 'casual' Zegna suit for the holiday season. A gift he had been meaning to get use out of.

She had no idea how much the suit cost, but the way he was wearing it, she was certain it was something absurd. It looked like it would be more than what she would get for an entire years pay.

Hazy eyes roamed over her face before he looked down at the bed in disgust. "You want me to go to sleep in a Zegna shirt?" spat the older man, even inebriated he was not impressed by her suggestion.

Processing his words slowly, a frown formed onto her face. "Yes?" She guessed, watching his expression turn into a sour one.

Was that the correct answer? She pondered.

An eye roll and exaggerated sigh later, she finally received her answer.

"Just help me take it off, Johnson, and don't ask any more stupid questions." When he tipped his chin up, exposing his neck, she found herself staring at him blankly. "I can barely work the buttons sober, and the stupid fucking collar is digging into my neck," Slater grumbled bitterly, frustrated to be having to explain himself.

Relaxing her tense shoulders, she stood up on her tippy toes.

"Of course," she quickly nodded. He didn't bother to look down at her, keeping his head up high, dark brows knitted together. Concerned by the source of his agitation, her fingers worked at each button one by one.

She swallowed harshly, fumbling to get to the very last button.

For a millisecond, honey-coated eyes flickered away from the ceiling. Although it was for a second, she managed to catch sight of them darting to her mouth and then back up. "Let go," he ordered, cocking his head. "I'm not having you be the reason a button falls off." The huskiness whirled around, and she stumbled back on her heels.

Rika tried not to gape at his open shirt, his entire chest was exposed showcasing all of his ink. He undid the last button with ease, shoving it down his hands and that's when her cheeks started to tint.

Her eyes widened, she had been so focused on the art scattered across his body that she hadn't noticed him yanking at his belt and trousers until they had joined the pile of clothes by his feet.

Next was his watch, he threw it on the ground.

Left in a pair of silk boxers, she cleared her throat, trying to maintain her composure. "I see you're all sorted then," she trailed off, watching as he roughly pulled the covers up, and climbed into the bed. "I should go."