“Of course, sir. High Ball?”
“Chophouse,” he mutters.
Shit.I’m not sure why he hates the Chophouse so much. It’s one of the ritziest steakhouses in New York City. I can’t even imagine setting foot in a place like that. And his dad eats there like it’s Denny’s. All I know is that, whenever Ransome has to meet his dad there, he comes back in a foul mood.
“Of course. Right away, sir.”
Ransome turns on his heels to walk back out but then, once again, stops and returns. “One more thing, Miss Parker.”
The way he says it makes my spine tingle. Not in a good way. Panic surges through me. Shit,didhe see my laptop? Does he know I’ve been spying on him? Obsessing over him?
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t afford to lose this job. I can’t afford?—
“When you pick up my dry-cleaning today…” He pauses.
Dry-cleaning! He’s asking about his dry-cleaning. Of course.
I lick my lips. “Yes?”
“Take it straight to my penthouse. I’ll text you the code.”
“Of course, Mr. Rozanov. Anything you need. Is there anything?—”
“That’s all.”
With that, he walks back down the hall, leaving me frazzled with a Cobb salad all over my office floor.
But not even that can dampen my mood. Ransome wants me to go to his penthouse. He wants me to go inside a place where he eats and sleeps and showers and lives. A place that will surely give me more insight on who Ransome Rozanov is.
I can’t wait.
3
RANSOME
“We gotta talk, brother.”
I grit my teeth hard enough to crack at my cousin Baron’s words. There are exactly two things I hate in this world more than anything: my schedule being fucked with and vague, elusive reasons for the interruption.
“Whatever it is, I don’t have time to deal with it right now,” I growl into the phone.
I am on my lunch break. A lunch I am enjoying alone, in my office, with the door closed. Or at least, Iwasenjoying it before Baron called me.
Baron understands my job. He knows I am the CEO of Apex Energy, the biggest oil and gas company between here and Saudi Arabia.
But he also knows my other identity. The man I am when I clock out. The man I can’t ever escape, simply because I am the only surviving Rozanov son.
Baron sighs. “Well, you can deal with it now or deal with it at five o’clock today. Your choice. I was just trying to give you a heads up before your phone explodes.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Your dad wants to have dinner.”
I slam my fist down on the desk, nearly scattering my lunch everywhere as I do. That would be unfortunate. My assistant made a point of ordering mepelmenitoday from the only truly authentic Russian place in Midtown Manhattan, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.
“Why? What the fuck could he possibly need now?”
“He hasn’t said. All I know is he called a meeting with the whole family, so obviously, you have to be there.”
