“What do you mean you don’t need the—?” He stops, eyes narrowing. “Chyort voz’mi. You should’ve told me.”
I lean back in my chair. “The decision’s made.”
“Who?” His voice rises an octave. “Tell me it’s not that Instagram model with the pet tiger. Because I swear to God, boss, one high-maintenance predator in your life is enough, and I’m not talking about the tiger.”
“Isabella Marquez.”
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “Who the fuck is Isabella Mar—?”
“Find out everything about her.”
His brows furrow. “You don’t know who she is?”
I don’t answer, letting the memory of last night wash over me instead. The way she looked sprawled across my sheets, how her skin flushed when she realized she wasn’t alone, those sounds she made while watching my portrait. Something dark and possessive stirs in my gut. No, she’s not getting away. Not after what she awakened in me.
His brows shoot up, his expression shifting from disbelief to amusement, then back to sheer, unfiltered confusion. “You’re not fucking with me.”
I roll my wrist, gesturing for him to get moving. “Start digging.”
16
Bella
“Ahelicopter.” Elena’s spoon clatters against her açai bowl as she stares at me across our usual corner table at Zen Garden Yoga & Juice Bar. “A fuckinghelicopter.”
I push my sunglasses higher up my nose, trying to hide the dark circles from last night’s adventure. “Can we not?”
“Oh, we absolutely can.” She leans forward, nearly knocking over her green juice. “You broke into a mansion, had sex with a portrait—”
“I did not have sex with a portrait!”
“—got caught by the actual manfromthe portrait, lost your green monster to said man, and then got picked up by a helicopter.” She ticks each point off on her perfectly manicured fingers. “In the rain. During a thunderstorm. On your birthday.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds crazy.”
“Because itiscrazy!” She slams both hands on the table, making the yoga moms at the next table jump. “You rode in ahelicopter. You! The same woman who won’t even use the express elevator because it ‘goes too fast’!”
I stab at my avocado toast. “Honestly, after everything else that happened, the helicopter wasn’t even in my top five most surreal moments of the night.”
Elena’s eyes gleam with unholy delight. “Speaking of surreal moments…” She pulls her chair closer, lowering her voice to a stage whisper that probably only the next three tables can hear. “Should we call the police?”
I choke on my green juice. “And say what? ‘Hello, officer, I broke into this man’s house, masturbated to his portrait, and then he confiscated my vibrator’?”
“Don’t forget your wallet.”
“Yes, thank you, Elena. That’s definitely the most pressing issue here.”
She grins, stirring her açai bowl thoughtfully. “You know what this means, right?”
“That I should move to Alaska and start a new life as a salmon farmer?”
“No, dummy. He has your address.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “All your…personal details.”
My head thunks against the table. “Oh God.”
“And your green monster.”
“Stop calling it that!”
