He was too damn sweet. Generous. But bossy and not understanding my perspective. “I can’t not have a job. I have bills. I have to make a living.”
“Then I’ll secure you another job somewhere better when the time comes for it. I have connections.” He shrugged like my employment was a non-issue.
“So, you’re saying my best option is to take a chance onyou.”
He slowly walked around the counter to face me. “Would that be so bad?” As he peered down at me, lowering his voice, the inches between us posed a threat of intimacy I wasn’t sure I could handle. We were only talking—arguing—but the gentle patience he wore seemed like a mask to a more brutal and hungry interest he held for me. “Is it so bad to be here?”
“I feel bought.” I swallowed hard. “Kidnapped.” I refused to lose this anger. “I need to be independent. Ever since my husband died, I’ve learned the hard lesson of being able to stand strong on my own.”
He put his hands on my upper arms and rubbed them. Stroking his thumbs up and down, he urged me to relax. “You are strong, Natalie. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you at that bar. You don’t quit. And you won’t lose your independence by allowing me to help you.”
“But why?” That question always came back and hit me the hardest. “Why me? Why do you care aboutme?” Loathing how submissive he made me feel, I stepped away and backed out of his reach. “Or is it just that you care about being in control?”
“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Maisie said as she came into the room. “Hi, Mister Sergei.”
“Hungry?” he said, using her as a distraction. “I’ve got some Chinese here.”
She beamed, running to the counter. “Mmm!”
I sighed, watching him patiently tell her what the containers held. She didn’t know the official names, so she asked if they were “noodles and chicky”. His quiet and serious controlling attitude toward me was a headache, but these rare flashes of tenderness and patience toward her bothered me more.
Like this, he was almost human, not some out-of-reach dictator of my life.
Like this, he showed a gentler nature, as if he wasn’t only concerned about manipulating me and setting me up to rely on him here.
There has to be a catch.
Whatever it is, I’ll find out.
15
SERGEI
Once I reiterated to Natalie that I would help her find another job, she seemed more willing to be an extended guest at my apartment. That was my first mistake—not realizing how much she’d need to feel like she was contributing and working. Her independence wasn’t a stylistic preference. The longer she stayed in my home, the more I realized that she needed to feel like she could handle life on her own.
Probably because of how reliant she was on her husband when he was alive.
I had yet to find the right time to ask her about him, to inquire whether he’d been a dominant provider who forbade her from thinking for herself or handling anything. With how often Natalie liked to cook and tidy the apartment, I got the impression she was happiest as a traditional woman, tending to her daughter and the house. Perhaps it wasn’t her late husbandmakingher have that role, but it was one she gravitated toward naturally.
Telling Natalie that I would help her find another job after losing her bartending one at the Diamond Mirage appeased her. I noticed the difference in her attitude, and that was when she fully started to embrace the opportunity to do nothing but be Maisie’s mother.
And my houseguest.
Calling her my friend felt like a lie and a truth. She was here because I cared, as a friend. But more than that, I wanted the freedom to pursue something more. Something that we both seemed to be ignoring since our last kiss on the sidewalk. A lingering pull stayed constant between us, but I didn’t make a move. She wasn’t as skittish in my home. What held me back was the gift and reward of seeing her truly relax.
Day in and out, she was here for her daughter. Playing. Reading. Coloring. Practicing writing. Teaching her how to fold towels. How to mix ingredients to bake cookies.
I wasn’t there, hovering all the time. I still had my job as my uncle’s enforcer. Often away for meetings or to handle the people who wanted to mess with the Family, I could rely on texting Natalie about what they were up to. It wasn’t to check in, but because I was curious.
One week passed, and Natalie ceased asking about her apartment and when she could leave. Having her go with guards to collect toys and clothes for her and Maisie almost seemed like a step toward their moving in officially, but it wasn’t like that. Maisie had just wanted “her” things that she was familiar with.
The next week passed by, and Natalie didn’t ask as often about whether her building was safe and if my men found out anything about the guys who’d followed her.
Honestly, I did have George on it. He was looking into why those Popovs were harassing her. It didn’t mean anything, and it was a case of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I deliberately remained vague and gave Natalie the impression that she was safest here.
I couldn’t let her go.
I didn’t want to imagine her not being in my home. More than that, I was getting far too used to having the clutter and noise of a child in my penthouse too.
