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ushers me through the room beside him. We head up the wide, curved set of white Bianchi marble steps that lead to the second story of the mansion. No messing around with a tour this evening. He must be ready to get busy. Bring your best, bad boy ….
    Halfway up the elegant staircase, I stop to stare in awe. The Cassel wonder is now nearly at eye level. Ribbons of striated color flow through each mesmerizing twist. I could stand here all night and never get enough. Mesmerized, I nearly reach out for the railing so I can bend forward for a closer look. But then I remember my training and compose myself. I must not leave fingerprints if I can help it, especially on an object that no one else will have touched.
    I sense that I’m being watched from below and dip my chin to lock eyes with Zoran. His hands are crossed at his wrists and rest just below his belt line. He stares at me with a narrowed scowl that is completely terrifying. It’s as if he’s furious that I’m here at all. How could he sense anything wrong? There’s no way that I’m not the first woman to visit his boss’ house.
    Perhaps he’s just jealous, thinking that Juric is abo ut to get lucky rather than him. Who cares? I have a job to complete and I can’t afford to let this gorgeous man distract me.
    W ith a dismissive toss of my hair, I arch a brow at him and turn to face Juric before continuing up the staircase. Nothing you can do to stop me now, Zoran. The train has left the station. I’m about to hack your boss’ PC, big guy.
    We make our w ay in silence down a large hallway inlaid with mosaic tile. The floor is so intricate. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. A geometric vision of black and white with shades of amber, each perfectly placed to form an ingenious pattern that runs the length of the hall. I nearly feel guilty walking across it. I’m half-tempted to take off my spiked high heels.
    The hallway must be seventy feet long , and masterpieces abound. An LED spotlight illuminates one stunning work of original art after another: Miro, Kandinsky, Turner. On and on. This mansion would be a cat burglar’s wet dream. No wonder the gates are so solid and the guards out in full force. The value of his art collection far outweighs that of his glorious mansion.
    A double set of carved French oak doors await us. They look both medieval and romantic at the same time. He pushes down on one of the metal handles and steps back, gesturing with with his manicured hand. “After you, my dear.”
    Ah, Vasilije, always the elegant gentleman. I almost feel guilty about what is about to happen to you … almost.
    I step into a candlelit erotic fantasy. The first word that comes to mind is masculine … very masculine. The walls are a dark charcoal gray and the ceiling looks like hardwood, probably from an endangered tropical rainforest. The entire vibe is far more intimate and primal compared to the controlled grace of the rest of his opulent home.
    At the center of the room is a massive black bed. The quilted leather headboard and footboard are oversized and appear so sumptuous that I can just imagine myself being thrust up against one while being fucked ruthlessly from behind. Even his duvet and sheets are a sleek midnight black, undoubtedly the highest thread count that money can buy. This wicked bedroom is made for down and dirty sex. Period.
    The door clicks closed behind me. I turn with a “come hither” smile and await his move. He steps forward with smooth grace and strokes my hair while whispering, “I took one look at you tonight in that seductive dress of yours and I knew that I absolutely had to have you beneath me in my bed tonight. Nobody else would do.”
    He leans in closer and touches my lips in a h eated kiss as his hands reach to release the bow tie at the back of my neck. I moan softly as his smooth, experienced lips take their time exploring my mouth. He’s a skilled, passionate kisser. I can easily understand why women are