Page 23 of Lobanov Bratva Obsession
His gaze rested on me, making me feel exposed. It didn’t help matters that we were both on the longer sides of a rectangular table—he was close enough to face without having to lean forward.
“Shouldn’t you be in some kind of meeting with your brothers?”
“How did you sleep?”
“You shouldn’t answer a question with a question. It’s considered rude.”
He chuckled like he was about to call my argument nonsense, but then he said, “I’m here because I can be here. Now, answer my question.”
“I slept well. Like every other person does,” I answered, moving my eyes back to the papers in front of me.
“Are you sore?”
Oh, God. Could this get any harder?
“I’m fine,” I answered, shrugging, still not looking up from my precious papers.
“If you didn't already know, I wasn’t asking if you were fine.”
“Are you always this persistent?” I inquired, meeting his eyes.
“You’re so eager to avoid the conversation that you didn’t notice that I just used your line on you,” he pointed out, a smirk on his devilishly handsome face.
Right.
He said, if you didn’t already know.
“I’m not… sore.”
“Why are you uncomfortable? Would you rather I didn’t ask at all?” he inquired, his tone laced with amusement.
He’s enjoying this.
“You know what? I liked you better when you were unreasonably cold and immovable,” I confessed.
“And I like when you’re telling me not to ask you anymore fucking questions.”
His unexpected, playful retort made me laugh.
“When you’re challenging me stubbornly with that unflinching gaze,” he added, making me roll my eyes.
“I was quite…rough yesterday. I just wanted to know if I hurt you,” he uttered, his expression now solemn.
I sighed, unable to deny the effect his words had on my insides.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I answered, holding his gaze.
He nodded.
Then he looked down at the papers.
“How did you even find those?”
“I’m good at finding things. Part of being a lawyer,” I explained.
“That, or it’s because you’re good at hiding things, too.”
I chuckled.
