He obviously notices my stunned expression, because he continues, “You can’t expect me to believe you haven’t thrown the game last night.” A smirk plays on his lips.
“I-I… Why didn’t you say something?”
“I was a greedy motherfucker and wanted my prize.” My nipples harden as the R-rated images invade my mind. “I guess you wanted it too. But it would be fair if you got your own prize as well. So take this.”
“What’s it for?”
“Whatever you want, baby. I have enough money. Spend it.”
His phone rings with a call, and he presses a quick kiss to my lips. He doesn’t have to tell me he needs to leave; I know it either way. I return the kiss and exit the car, the credit card somehow pressed between my thumb and forefinger.
He doesn’t drive away and I realize I need to enter the building for him to do that. So, once again, I get inside the unfamiliar building, pretending it’s my own. Guilt builds in my chest, pressing firmly. I wanted to tell him it’s not my actual address as soon as he pulled up out front, but the card left me speechless. I don’t need his money; I have plenty of my own, but I’m smart enough to know it means more. Money is power, and he’s giving a part of his power to me. To a person like him, a person in need of control, it shows trust. He’s showing me he trusts me with his money, just like I showed him I trust him with my body last night. A lump forms in my throat as an intoxicating cocktail of emotions swirls through me.
“Miss Alex.” A gentle male voice pulls my attention. It’s Peter, the doorman. “It’s good to see you. I have something for you.” His face transforms into a smile as he gestures his head to the back.
I lift my gaze only to find at least half a dozen bouquets in tiny, impromptu vases.
“They’ve been arriving every day, addressed to you. I’ve put them in whatever I could find, but some of them haven’t survived.” He sports a guilty look as he glances at the dying bouquet of red roses.
“Thank you for keeping them.” Tears prick my eyelids for the second time today, both times courtesy of Leon Petrovic.
“I’m guessing someone is quite smitten with you.” Peter dons a proud grin.
I wrap my fingers around the black card in my hands. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“How are you getting home? You can hardly carry them all in your hands.”
He’s right. I call a rideshare, and he helps me dry the dripping stems. He also helps me load them into the car that arrives a few minutes later. I barely manage to bring all the bouquets up to Sophie’s apartment, but leaving some behind isn’t an option. I bury my nose in the flowers, inhaling their scent. Each of them is different, like he was trying out fresh combinations until he found my favorite one.
I improvise vases out of random glasses because Sophie wasn’t into flowers and place them all over the living room.
Embarrassingly so, a certain thought pops into my mind for the first time. Maybe Leon could help me find Sophie. He has a ton of security; maybe they’ve seen her. Or maybe we could find her on the security footage.
It was a habit to keep so much of me hidden. But maybe, just maybe, I can show him some parts.
CHAPTER 20
Leon
An order for another bouquet is made as I enter the office. Dom is already waiting for me, his face serious. “Ivan and Russ are downstairs.”
I nod before turning on my heel. We walk in silence to the elevator, but I feel the nervous energy emanating from him as he grips a manila folder tightly. I’m not in the mood to listen to him bitching, so I don’t ask what the hell his problem is today. I’d bet it’s me, anyway.
We walk into my practically forgotten office, and I walk straight to the dry bar. I pour myself a shot of rakia. Even though I haven’t been around much, the office is spotless. Probably more spotless than when my stressed ass was here 24/7, disabling my staff from doing their jobs.
The glass clinks as I place it on my desk and let out a loud sigh. The two men Dom announced sit in front of me. Ivan seems relaxed, leaning back in a simple black t-shirt. With his size, he’s quite a sight. Russ, on the other hand, is anxious. His nervousness is visible in the way he fidgets in the seat and the powerful scent of sweat coming off him. He’s only a few years older than me but looks like he’s in his fifties. I guess the job of an arms dealer is not a piece of cake. Still, he cares about his image, so his mostly grayhair is always styled and his suits perfectly pressed. As soon as our gazes clash, he speaks.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”
I lean back in my chair, clenching my jaw to keep my composure. “Do what?”
“I can’t work with you. Not until this thing with the Russians is done.” For a person in his profession, he’s quite timid. When Luka was still here, we sent him a full fleet of men to serve as security until we got things handled.
“I’m sorry to hear that your security is still not up to par.”
“It’s not my security. I’m just caught between two fires, where I have no place to be.”
“Funny.” I swish the drink in my glass. “Why would a person loyal to us be caught between two fires?”
