The Marriage Ultimatum
Description
Dead-end job? Dreary apartment? Disastrous love life? Check, check, and check. Toddler who makes it all worthwhile? Absolutely. Juggling work, college, and the care of young Alex was never Sabrina's plan. But Sabrina's dreams are bigger than any curve ball life can throw at her. Her top priority is keeping her small family together, no matter what the cost. Vladimir Grigory doesn't believe in dreams. He earned his position at the top of New York's corporate ladder with his own sweat. His empire is his baby, and he'll destroy anyone who threatens it. Even the beautiful employee who challenges him on every level. When the New York tabloids and the world call him the baby daddy of Sabrina's son, Vlad believes Sabrina is part of a plot to expose the secrets of his past. He threatens to destroy her future. But since Sabrina has secrets of her own, she has no choice but to agree to Vlad's marriage ultimatum.
Chapter 1
Jan 28, 2026
She cursed like a sailor.
But that wasn’t the first thing he noticed.
The first thing he saw was her skirt. Tight, black, and barely there, it sheathed such knockout curves that he stopped cold on his way past the break room.
She was ransacking the fridge, upending cans and bottles onto the counter, throwing down swear words right along with the Cokes and Pepsis.
Those curses had been practically the first English words he’d spoken. He’d learned the meanings of those cuss words long after he’d learned how to say them. That’s what happened when you lived on a tanker ship as an eight year old, looked like you were twelve, and tried to act like you were at least sixteen.
Jetlag forgotten, he leaned against the doorjamb to watch the show. He chuckled as one particularly nasty anatomically impossible series of words tumbled out.
She twisted round at the sound and hurled a can straight at him.
All instinct, he raised a muscled forearm fast and palmed the soda before it could make contact with his head.
He inclined his head, suppressing a smile. “Good arm.”
Casually, he set the offending can down on the counter and resumed his stance at the door, waiting to see what the livewire would do next.
“What’re you doing creeping up on me like that? Who are you?” Her gaze narrowed in on him even as she took a step back.
He stared right back, sinking into eyes so mercurially gray then green, then gray again. It was like he’d fallen into the turbulent depths of the Atlantic. With her wild eyes, untamed hair, and skintight clothes, she was a mermaid and absolutely the answer to this sailor’s prayers.
She shoved an unruly swath of hair back over her shoulder, all attitude. One hand was on her hip and the other fiddled with the hem of her sweater. His gaze tracked her every move.
Her chin angled up. “Seen enough? You know what they say: Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Her voice had a smoky edge—the kind that made him think of too much vodka and all-night sex.
He loosed a chuckle again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been challenged on any level by a female. One thing was certain: he’d never been amused and aroused at the same time. And no, he had definitely not seen enough. He took in the ripped tights on legs that went into next week.
She gave him back the same bold look, her attention eventually settling on his lips.
They stood like that for a long heartbeat until, still holding his gaze, she swayed toward him just as he leaned forward to grasp her wrists.
He stroked his thumbs over the pulses there and smiled when he discovered that her blood raced as recklessly as his. And then, they were toe to toe and he was falling deep into those stormy eyes.
This close, her scent washed over him, a combination of something flowery and, was that baby powder?
Whatever it was, it tugged him in, closer, until he held her right at the notch beneath his shoulder, above his heart.
Now. One more step and her breasts were pressed hard against his chest. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered shut when his arm drew her in tight from the waist.
Now.
He lowered his head to those lush lips and…
The discipline of a lifetime reared up out of nowhere, stiffening his spine even as his cock remained rock hard against her belly.
What the hell? Really? At the office? Was he sixteen or thirty-two years old? Was he the guy who never, ever, had sex without protection, or not? Because somehow he knew that once he started with her, he wouldn’t be content till they were both satisfied.
He forced out a breath and stepped back, watching, as her eyes went from cloudy to confused back to combative.
Counting this trip, he’d been on the road for eight months, crisscrossing hemispheres, as always, avoiding his homeland, negotiating deals, and checking in on manufacturing sites. The non-stop schedule meant his personal life had taken a decided turn into monotonous.
It was a simple enough equation. She was sex on legs, and he’d been too long without a woman.
But that was all it was.
He shook his head at his own uncharacteristic weakness, released her wrists, and took another step back from her.
“One question.” He couldn’t look away from those vivid eyes.
She raised a delicate brow.
“What the hell were you looking for in that fridge?”
Her face flamed, that fast flash of crimson gingers despised. Her hands clenched and her eyes flashed lightning.
“Somebody took my Red Bull.” She gave him a once-over, like a cop about to ask his whereabouts at the time of the crime.
His hands went up in mock surrender. Definitely the wrong time to smile. He worked to keep a poker face
“Wasn’t me.”
“Well, I don’t care if it was Vladimir freakin’ Grigory himself who took it. It’s late, I’m tired, it’s pouring out, and I’m nowhere near finished with my work.”
He chuckled. It was the third time he’d laughed tonight. For him, it constituted a record for the year, and it was already September. He thought of all the creative ways he could keep her awake and felt his body harden in readiness again.
“So, yeah, happy to entertain you.” Lips pressed into an annoyed line, she grabbed a chocolate bar off the counter and stalked out of the room.
As he watched her stride down the corridor, he knew that even in her stocking feet, her walk could put a supermodel to shame.
The Marriage Ultimatum
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