“Do you?” His thumb caresses the thin skin of my inner wrist, grounding me.
I nod, lifting my head. The look in his eyes knocks the breath out of my lungs. The dark chocolate pools swim with rage and pain. His pupils are blown wide, but they seem almost glossy, mirroring the emotions in mine.
“I will handle it, you know?” he asks.
“What?” I blink my tears away.
“Your ex. You will never have to be afraid again.”
His words wrack my body with shivers. I don’t ask how or what he’ll do. He’s in the mafia, and I don’t know nearly enough about it to make assumptions about what that means. A better person would tell him to let it go, that it’s not his battle tofight. But I’m so tired of fighting alone against an invincible opponent. I’ll take all the help I can get.
My nose sniffles as I attempt a joke. “I still won’t forgive you.”
Once again, he doesn’t let me soften the mood. “You shouldn’t. I hurt you. And you should make me grovel for it.”
A flutter starts deep in my core, his words affecting me more than they should. My shoulders feel lighter after I shared this with him. Even though I still hate him, I don’t feel so alone anymore.
CHAPTER 36
Leon
She glances back to where I’m standing, my eyes trained on her. “Thank you for dinner,” she says before closing the door of her room. I let out a sigh of relief. It’s not forgiveness, it’s not getting her back, but it’s still something.
She shared a part of her story with me, which I’ll appreciate forever. Even though I barely kept my cool listening to her speak about getting abused, the trust she put in me won’t be taken for granted. Again. It’s past midnight. But I have a crumbling empire to run, and I just spent six hours away from work, so I make myself a cup of coffee, unbutton the top two buttons on my shirt and get my ass into the home office.
The letters on the paper before me get jumbled as I stare at them for what seems like hours. They show just how much money we lost in our war with the Russians. All the warehouses that got destroyed and how much money we’ve spent destroying theirs. I know the distillery we’ve blown up is a massive hit for them, but I also know they will rebuild. If I don’t stop them. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, dropping my head into my hands.
My thoughts drift to Alex again, my lungs expanding as I think about the way she escaped her abuser, who has the entire police force behind him. I’m still not fully sure how she did it, butI know one thing for certain—she hasn’t used force; she used her wits.
I’ve been going at this all wrong. Somewhere along the line, I forgot I’m a businessman first. My dislike of violence made me resourceful in other ways, which led me to where I am today. The Russians are bullies; they always were. They are larger and stronger, and beating them with force has shown itself improbable so far.
If we’re losing tons of money, they’re probably losing even more. Continuing this can’t be in their interest. Besides, I might have a secret weapon, a certain corrupt politician that I have by the balls.
My mind works overtime as I flesh out a plan. While I’m on a roll, I make a few orders for the next step in my ‘Get Alex to forgive me’ plan and drop onto the bed fully exhausted.
With a breakfast for Alex ready on the kitchen island, I get out of the apartment in the morning. Instead of heading to the casino, I make my way to the city hall.
My shoes clack on the marble floors as I enter, handing my ID to the security guy. He does a quick pat-down to check for weapons, and when he finds none, he lets me through.
“Good morning! How can I help you?” A young girl asks me with a bright smile. Her hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and her attire is perfectly professional — dark blue slacks and a white shirt.
“I need to see the mayor.” I do my best impression of a charming smirk, and her eyes stick to the corner of my lips.
“Do you have an appointment?” She checks the screen on her computer.
“I don’t, but he will want to see me.”
She lets out a nervous laugh, and her tongue sweeps out tolick her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. But he only does appointments. He’s a busy man, after all.”
I suppress the roll of my eyes. “You really should tell him I need him. I’m sure he’d find time,” I bite out, making sure she gets the message I’m not leaving until I see him.
She shifts on her feet, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, and I sigh. My gaze connecting to hers, I try to calm my voice as I say, “Look, go inside and tell him that Leon Petrovic needs him right away. He won’t blame you for that.”
Her eyes wide, she gives a tiny nod and heads to the door of his office. I slip my hands into my pockets as I wait before she exits the room, taking in a shaky breath. “The mayor will see you now,” she says, her voice nervous.
I step into the office, blinded by all the wood. I don’t know what it is about rich, old white men and wooden surfaces, but in my experience, they go hand in hand.
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” he comments behind his overly large wooden desk.
