Nosovitskaya leaned back, drawing the gauzy pink material even more tightly across her breasts. An odd, seductive smile played on her full lips. Her nipples protruded invitingly.

Ustinov gulped. Beads of sweat broke out across his broad brow. The light in the office cubicle seemed to darken. Except for a ray of sunshine that played on those wondrous orbs. He could barely restrain himself. He fought the overpowering urge to reach out and grab them, right then and there, and show them some proper appreciation.

She leaned forward and leveled a commanding look at him, her eyes narrow and menacing. She spoke in a low, yet powerful, voice. “Uncle Boris warned me about you. He told me you were nothing more than a Georgian pig and that I should cut your balls off and jam them down your throat if you threatened me.” She paused to savor the sudden look of terror that crossed his face. “You remember Uncle Boris Medikov, do you not?”

Ustinov’s face went pale. He reached out to brace himself on her desk to avoid keeling over as the blood left his head.

Boris Medikov, Ustinov’s boss several times removed, was her uncle? Medikov would kill him for doing no more than he had done already, let alone the scenario he had been playing over and over in his mind since the first day he had laid eyes on the man’s lovely niece. The truth was that Medikov could reach from Moscow to New York in the blink of an eye if he had reason to do so.

Nosovitskaya smiled a little easier now. She threw back her head, shaking out her mane of long blond hair. She seductively licked her lips with the tip of her tongue before she spoke again.

“I see you remember my beloved uncle Boris. He has a message for you. You are to make certain that the OptiMarx system is in full operation, with our modifications in place, within one month from today.”

Ustinov looked around the office. Fortunately the room was still empty. Everyone else was out for lunch.

“One month?” he whined in protest. “That is impossible. It cannot be done. The ARP takes two months to complete. The system cannot be used until that test is done and the SEC gives its approval to go online.”

It appeared that she wasn’t any more interested in his frantic pleas than she had been his clumsy advances. She was idly staring down the aisle between the rows of cubicles, out the window at the far end of the office suite that opened onto the Manhattan skyline. He sputtered on for a few seconds. He stopped when it dawned on him that protesting was futile.

Nosovitskaya smiled. “Uncle Boris said one month. One month or you will find the bottom of the Hudson to be a very cold and dark place. I am here to make certain you are not distracted.”