Chapter 7
LEX
You’re making another mistake.
I ignore the warning bells screaming through me.
Focus instead on how drop-dead gorgeous Rose looks as I lead her into my garage. She’s wearing a flowing blue dress that hugs suggestively—but subtly—to her curvy form. She’s unbraided her hair, let it flow to her shoulders.
Light makeup draws out her natural beauty instead of replacing it.
I open the door to my dark car, windows tinted. She steps inside, brushing my arm.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she says. “I never go out this late.”
I smile. A real one. Not forced. Not savage.
Something like happiness sparks in my cold chest.
“You deserve it,” I tell her. “Hell, Rose, you deserve the world.”
She touches my arm. “How can you say that when you hardly know me?”
“The truth? I feel like I know you better than I’ve ever known any woman. One day with you is like a year with anybody else.”
As I drive out of the neighborhood and toward the city, I notice she’s gone quiet. Wringing her hands in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she murmurs.
I place one hand on her leg. Slip beneath her dress and squeeze her naked thigh. My dick pulses. She touches my wrist like she’s unsure whether she wants to urge me higher or tell me to stop.
“Is Daddy going to have to make you tell me?”
“Other women,” she says quietly. “But it’s silly. I’ve got no right to ask.”
“Other women don’t exist to me,” I growl. “Only you, Rose. Nobody else matters. Look at me like I’m nuts if you want. I know it’s only been a couple days. But I mean it. You’re everything to me.”
“But how?” she says, her smile a prize I’ll never stop trying to win.
“Your determination to fulfill your mom’s final wishes. Your beauty. Your stubbornness to stand up to the property developer. To do the right thing instead of taking the easy path. You’re inspirational.”
Her smile widens. My cold armor cracks even more. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me for telling the truth.”
I should listen to the caution inside me. Take her someplace quiet where nobody will notice us. But she deserves better than that.
Instead, I take her to one of the most luxurious restaurants in the city. Echelon is a big ballroom, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, silverware glittering from the tables like somebody plucked the stars from the sky.
“Do we need to make a reservation?” Rose whispers, as I walk in with her on my arm.
I lead her to the head of the line. Ignore the glares from the society men and women. The politicians and the millionaires and the playboys.
“Mr Markov,” the host says. “A table for two?”
I nod. “Somewhere discreet.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Woah,” Rose mutters as the host leads us across the busy restaurant. “This is like being inside a snow globe.”
Another smile touches my lips as I pull out her seat. There’s so much I could show her, so much we could share together. Life seems instantly brighter when I view it through her eyes.
I order champagne. Rose laughs. “Seriously?”
“I want the best for you,” I tell her.
“I’ve already eaten dinner,” she murmurs.
“Then order something light—or order a second dinner.”
“A second dinner?”
I glide my hand under the table. Squeeze her leg. “You could never be too curvy for me, Rose. You make my mouth water more than any meal in this place. Don’t you dare doubt yourself.”
Her face lights up … lighting me up inside.
“Then I’ll have steak?” she murmurs, looking at the menu. “With a side of fries?”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll get the same.”
Once we’ve made our order and we’re sipping our champagne, I lean forward. The room shrinks to just her. The laughter and the music and the highfliers … they all disappear.
“Tell me about yourself,” I say.
Her cheeks flush. Eyes bright with champagne and excitement. “Where shall I start?”
“At the beginning.”
“You want my whole life story, huh?”
“I want everything from you.”
She can’t hide the desire shimmering across her expression. She tugs at the tablecloth like she’s sexually frustrated. My manhood aches. I focus on romance. Not lust.
A challenge?
Fuck yeah.
Even more difficult than walking out on her was.
But I do it. For her.
“I guess I’ve always been shy,” she says after a pause. “I always had my head in books.”
“What kinds of books?”
“It sounds weird—”
“You don’t need to do that,” I cut in.
“Do what?”
“Downplay yourself. Your past. Your … anything, Rose. I want all of you.”
She sits up straighter. “You’re right. I do tend to downplay stuff.”
“You don’t have to with me.”
She reaches across the table. Touches my hand.
“I was obsessed with books about houses. Renovation specifically. Before Mom got ill, I was studying to be a property developer. Not like those asshats trying to take my house though. Not some big mega corporation sucking the soul from homes. I wanted to develop with care, with pride.”
Her passion blazes through with every word.
“You’ll do it,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “You sound so sure.”
“Your mom’s house is the start, Rose,” I tell her firmly. “One day, you’ll be a success. I promise you.”
I’m addicted to her smiles. She squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”
“So …”
“Oh, me still?” She laughs. “Well, I didn’t have many friends.
Some, but not many. I spent a lot of time reading, like I said.
Never had many boyfriends either. Then I went to college—Mom got sick—I came home and we lived with my uncle in the city so that he could take care of her when I was at work.
But she wouldn’t sell the home. When she … ”
She lets out a croak.
“It’s okay,” I say huskily. “I’m here.”
“You know, passed,” she presses on. “I moved back to the house and got to work. That’s when I discovered that a certain somebody had moved into Mr Nelson’s rundown house …”
She looks at me questioningly. I swallow hard.
Here I am saying she deserves everything. But I still haven’t given her the truth.
How can I without putting her in danger?
Hypocrite. She’s in danger just sitting here with you.
Our food arrives, both of us having medium-rare steak. The pause gives me a chance to try and organize my thoughts. To stop being so damn evasive.
I cut into my steak. Stare at the blood spreading across the plate and think about all the blood I’ve spilled.
“I want to tell you the truth,” I say. “But I’d rather focus on you.”
“You’ve got my whole life story,” she replies with a nervous laugh. “I’m really not that interesting.”
“You are,” I say passionately. “You’re the most interesting woman I’ve ever met. You did the right thing, coming home for your mom. I know it must’ve been hard. But you did it. And you’re doing the right thing again.”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“But you do, Rose. People make bad choices all the time. It only seems like you’ve got no choice because doing anything else doesn’t even fit into your head.”
I love you.
I should just say it.
It was true the moment I laid eyes on her.
I open my mouth. The words are almost out.
Then my mistake slams into me with brutal force. A deadly slip-up that has my hand twitching for my gun … holstered under my suit jacket. Ready to start shooting at a moment’s notice.
Nikolai Dubrov has men everywhere. I should know. I was one up until recently.
Oleg swaggers over to the table. A tall man with a flat face and a twice-broken nose.
“Alexei,” he says with fake warmth in his voice. His beady eyes scan me then flit to Rose.
If they linger for longer than a second, I’ll snap his neck.
I don’t care if he probably has backup in Echelon. Bratva men tend not to go anywhere alone. At least, most do. Braver in gangs. I was never like that.
He offers me his hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you. How long has it been? A month?”
I stare at his hand. Don’t take it. “You’re interrupting, Oleg.”
He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Smirks at me like he’s trying to make me afraid of what he might pull out. Gun or knife, doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.
I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands if he even thinks about hurting Rose.
She’s got her hands wrapped over her middle. She’s a smart girl, can sense the atmosphere. Can sense my dis-ease or the sudden taste of near violence in the air.
“I feared something may have happened to you,” Oleg says.
“People have been trying for years. So far—no luck.”
“So far,” Oleg repeats. “I shall leave you and your lovely lady to your meal.”
I watch him go. Work my jaw.
Then leap to my feet and take Rose’s hand.
“Where are we going?” she demands.
“Away from here.”
She tries to yank her hand away. I spin on her, ignoring the glares from the nearby tables.
“If we don’t leave, somebody might try to hurt you. I’ll turn this place into a bloodbath before I let that happen.”
She looks at me as though I’m a stranger.
Stupid thought, because that’s what I am. Technically.
Finally, she lets me lead her out the back entrance. I climb into my car and start taking a nonsensical route back to the suburbs. Lefts and right that have no rhyme or reason, constantly checking the rearview. Making sure we’re not being followed.
Rose says nothing. Hugs herself tightly like she expects no comfort from me—like she doesn’t want the likes of me touching her.
When we get home, I quickly drive into the garage.
No tail.
Nobody knows where Rose lives.
“We’re going inside,” she snaps, climbing from the car and slamming the door. “And you’re going to give me some answers. No more games.”