“I know,” he said, nodding. “And what does your wife say about your mistress? Will they be having tea together on Sundays?”
My lips curved as a slow recognition set in. Did Leo have a thing for Katia? I’d never even contemplated it, but he was single and I’d never seen him with a woman. Was he carrying a torch for her?
“We haven’t been together like that for a few years,” I said, tilting my head. “But I didn’t realize you’d noticed—”
“I didn’t notice,” he said flatly. “I just respect her, okay? She’s a good person.”
“She is, and I’m committed to my wife.”
Leo’s features drew together. “You’re telling me you have feelings for Victor’s widow? I mean, Bianca is gorgeous. That’s indisputable. But you’re technically enemies.”
“Not anymore.” I shook my head. “And we have a history that few know about. I’ve known Bianca for a very long time, and yes, I care for her deeply. And now, I’ll ask you to keep thatinformation to yourself and stay the fuck out of my personal life.”
“Fine with me,” he said, his tone annoyed.
“And Katia isn’t seeing anyone right now, in case you were wondering.”
“Nope. Just wanted to make sure she was okay. I’ll head into the club and schedule a dance with her when I have any updates for you.”
“Work fast. I’m basically keeping Bianca prisoner at my house, and Alexis is sequestered in a hidden location too. I want to absorb Victor’s business as soon as possible so we can try to find some semblance of normal.”
Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Do you order Bianca around like that too? I can’t see her taking kindly to it. By the way, she figured out a long time ago that I inform to you. She’s smarter than Victor ever gave her credit for.”
“I’ve been...chastiseda few times,” I said, smiling wryly. “Apparently, I have a lot to learn about being a husband.”
“Better you than me, man,” Leo said, grinning. “Text me on the burner if you need me. I’ll be in touch through Katia.”
He retreated up the stairs, and I watched his broad shoulders, still absorbing the fact that he obviously had some complicated feelings for Katia. Filing that away, I glanced at the time before heading to the club to interview the last of Katia’s security candidates.
Chapter 21
Bianca
On Saturday, I took extra time with my makeup, wanting to look flawless for my first public appearance as Michael’s wife. I’d ordered a dark green dress that hugged my curves and brought out the honey-colored flecks in my eyes. Green was my favorite color, and the color of renewal, and I felt it would send a strong message that Michael and I were aligned against any of Victor’s remaining loyalists.
Once I shrugged the dress on, I gazed at myself in the mirror, observing my skin above the elegant, backless dress. For the first time in ages, I wanted to impress a man, and I hoped Michael would be pleased.
“Bianca?” he called, striding into my bedroom where I was getting ready. “Are you—” His eyes bore into mine in the reflection as he stood motionless before whispering, “Holy shit.”
I turned to face him, nervous for some reasons as I rubbed my clammy palms on the dress. “Is it...do I look okay?”
He closed the distance between us, stopping a few inches before me and allowing his gaze to rove over my frame.
“Jesus Christ, woman,” he said, softly whistling. “I’m afraid to take you out in public like that.”
“Oh,” I said, patting my hair, which I’d styled into a half updo. The rest of my curls hung down my back, ending between my shoulder blades. “I can change...”
“No,” he said, encircling my wrist and drawing me forward. Aligning our bodies, he rested his forehead against mine. “I’lljust have to live with the fact that I’m the luckiest bastard in the world, and everyone is going to want to fuck my wife.”
“Michael!” I said, playfully swatting his shoulder.
“It’s true, stella,” he said, pecking my lips. “You’re breathtaking.”
Tears stung my eyes as I realized how meaningful his words were to me. “Well, only one man will be taking me home tonight. My very generous husband, who bought this dress for me even if he didn’t realize it.”
Chuckling, he reached into his pocket and drew out a pearl necklace. Holding it high, he spoke softly. “This was my mother’s, and she treasured it. She always spoke of how they werereal pearls,” he said, smiling at the memory.
“It’s lovely,” I said, overcome with the emotion in his voice. I knew his mother had died when he was young, and it was evident that he cherished her.
