“You deserve an honest man, and I intend on being that for you. Have a good night, Rosalie.”
CHAPTER 41
MAX
Itwisted the ring on my index finger in repetitive circles, struggling to focus on anything in front of me.
The stack of documents on my desk only seemed to grow taller by the minute: contracts, invoices, and endless forms that required my attention. The ticking clock on the wall only added to my frustration. The damn thing never seemed to shut up unless I was with Rosalie. I hated that she wasn’t my only priority. Every second I wasn’t with her was a second wasted.
I lit the end of a cigarette just as a soft knock came from the door. “Come in,” I called, trying to mask my irritation.
The door creaked open, and Mikhail stepped inside, his expression serious. “Bianca let me in.”
I sighed, putting the ring I’d been absentmindedly twirling back on completely. “What is it now?” I asked.
He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to stand in front of my desk. “There’s still movement from the Americans. The shipment we just loaded into the warehouse had missing containers.”
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t have time to deal with Mason as well as Rosalie’s reckless night out. “What do they know?
“Enough for it to be a problem,” Mikhail replied. “We need to tighten security and move the shipment to a different warehouse. It’s too risky to keep everything in one place.”
I nodded, my mind racing. “All right, reorganize then. We’ll move half of it to the warehouse on Fifth and the rest to Diego’s place. We’ll meet up there in a few hours to deal with Mason.”
I’d spent the past half hour searching for my keys, but they were nowhere to be found. I rarely misplaced my belongings, especially my keys—I always left them on the table near the door, where I could easily grab them on my way out. Yet despite searching high and low, I couldn’t find the damn things.
I checked the table once more, hoping to find them underneath the lamp, but they weren’t there. I gave the kitchen another look, thinking I might’ve left them in there while I made myself a second cup of coffee, but they were nowhere. I rummaged through the cushions on the sofa, even though I had no memory of sitting there with my keys in my hand. I looked on every shelf and under every piece of furniture, only stopping my search when I realized what was going on.
Rosalie was trying to play a game with me. I didn’t have the time. She was going to make me late.
“Rosalie,” I called.
No response.
“Rosalie,” I called once more.
Still, no answer.
With growing impatience, I turned down the hall toward her room. The door had been left open, revealing a rumpled bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rosalie coming in from the bathroom. I could smell her perfume from where I stood.
Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, reaching just above the curve of her lower back. The way her dress hugged her form was ... distracting, to say the least. The soft pastel-pink fabric seemed to shimmer with every subtle move she made, each sway of her hips challenging me. There was no mistaking it: the woman was playing me, and she looked incredible doing so.
“Rosalie,” I called again as I leaned against the doorframe. My gaze swept over her once more.
“Aren’t you going to tell me how I look?” she asked as she turned to face me. Her lips, painted a deep, seductive red, curved into a small smile.
I laughed darkly. “Fishing for compliments? I would’ve thought that was beyond you.”
She smiled. “You came to talk to me first.”
My hand instinctively brushed my jaw, the sharp stubble scratching my fingers. “My keys,” I said, holding out my hand, palm open, waiting.
She made her way closer to me, her five-inch heels clicking against the hardwood floor with a deliberate taunting beat. She leaned her weight on one leg and crossed her arms behind her back before looking up at me, her head reaching my chin. “Find them.”
Slowly, I tore my eyes from hers and allowed them to fall down her chest. The fabric strained against the outline of something familiar.
Mykeys.
“Were you under the assumption I wouldn’t reach for them, Rosalie?” I murmured, lifting the delicate strap of her dress with my finger and feeling the smooth fabric under my touch.
