Read Online Living on the Edge by Susan Mallery - Free Book Online Page B

and her snug jeans outlined the faint curve of her hips.
    She needed a good twenty pounds packed on her before she could escape being called bony, but she had some potential. Not that he would do anything about it. Number one, she wasn’t his type. Number two, while she was his responsibility, he wouldn’t try anything. Number three, he doubted she was interested in what he had in mind.
    Just as well, he told himself. Women like her made things complicated. He would bet a lot of money that Madison had never had sex just for the sake of it. That to her the act was as emotional and spiritual as physical. The thought of which made him tired.
    He returned to the control room and sat in front of his computer. While he would rather be beaten than admit it, he was starting to like her. She was nothing he’d imagined and nothing like other rich women he’d met. She seemed to have values and a sense of someone other than herself.
    Which could all be an act, he reminded himself as he began to type. Although he would know soon enough. A quick trip through her computer would tell him if her work was as important to her as she claimed.
    Â 
    Stanislav was not a big man. Barely five foot eight with a thin build, he looked like the guy you pushed around on the beach. Christopher knew better. He’d seen the Russian cut off a man’s hand, fingers first, then the thumb, then finally slicing the rest off at the wrist. That man had stolen less than a hundred dollars from one of Stanislav’s gambling clubs.
    Now, as Stanislav walked around his office, pickingup pieces of art, admiring pictures, Christopher felt sweat trickle down his back. He kept his attention on the smaller Russian man when he really wanted to stare at Stanislav’s very large, very stoic associates.
    â€œVery nice,” Stanislav said with only the slightest of accents. “I like your office. You find it very creative, yes?”
    â€œUh, yeah. Sure. It’s great. But this is mostly for guests. I do the real work down in the lab.”
    Stanislav turned to look at him. The Russian’s pale blue eyes seemed to be made of ice. “By ‘real work’ you mean taking what I give you, taking our technology and pretending to make it your own.”
    Christopher swallowed, not sure what to say. “I, uh…”
    Stanislav waved him to silence.
    â€œYou Americans,” he began as he walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the view of Brentwood. “You think you are so superior. That we are a backward country with no creativity. No spark. Yet who do you come to for your technology? Where do you try to buy the next big thing?” He turned and glared at Christopher. “Russia. Our scientists created the jamming device you want so badly. In their small back rooms and underground laboratories. We designed it, tested it and would have brought it to market.” He drew his eyebrows together. “Or maybe we would have used it on you. We could have flown here on radar-invisible planes and crushed you while you slept.”
    â€œYou sure could have,” Christopher said, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.
    Stanislav moved close. “But we did not,” he said from only a foot away. His pale gaze locked on Christopher’sface. “We became what we are today—a broken country going nowhere. For some, this is better. Better for me. In the new order I am a rich, powerful man. But not better for Russia. Still, what is done is done.”
    Christopher nodded as fear swelled inside of him.
    â€œI came to you because of your reputation,” Stanislav said, his voice low. “Because of who you were and the business I thought we could do together. I trusted you.”
    â€œI appreciate that,” Christopher said quickly. “I want to do what I can to keep that trust.”
    â€œThen where is the goddamn money?” Stanislav asked in a roar.
    Christopher flinched