Chapter 20
LEO
The last few days of my return to the hospital felt like fresh hell, but I knew the feeling wouldn’t last. Every holiday was the same, my body fighting to get back into the rhythm of things.
During time off, I did the bare minimum required to survive, letting the hours blur together until even getting up felt optional.
Dragging myself out of that lethargy always took a few days, a few too many cups of coffee, and a stubborn refusal to fall behind.
It didn’t help that Emma’s death had left a gray cloud hanging over the hospital.
Work hadn’t slowed. If anything, it had doubled.
This time of year always stretched staff thin, and now there was an absence no one quite knew how to fill.
People still moved through their shifts, still chatted, still joked in low voices at the nurses’ station, but it all felt muted.
Emma had been well-liked. One of the other nurses—her best friend, Celeste—hadn’t come back at all. Just resigned without warning. I understood that more than I wanted to.
I caught glimpses of how her absence affected the staff everywhere.
The way people hesitated outside certain rooms. The way her name would almost come up in conversation, then die on someone’s tongue.
The last time the hospital felt like this was when Dr. Palmer got struck by lightning on a golf course and died on the spot. Sudden and senseless.
Somewhere between patients, I’d gotten the email on the first day back.
It was a reminder about protocol and expectations regarding my abrupt departure before my leave.
Nothing accusatory, nothing personal, but the message was clear enough.
The reprimand sat in my inbox, and I didn’t respond to it until the third day.
After all, in all my years working at the hospital, I’d never been written up.
Usually, having a stain on my pristine record would have annoyed me, but I brushed the email aside and took care of my patients as best as my years of experience had taught me.
Or maybe it was the thought of Sergei that lingered in my mind like a stubborn cold sore that made everything else feel trivial.
Because that day he’d brought me my favorite Italian meal and I’d sent him away remained on my mind.
The way I’d reacted to smelling the feminine scent on him was out of character for me.
I’d been right on the verge of inviting him inside.
Of bringing him upstairs and making love to him in the guest room.
Earlier, I’d aired out the room, made the bed with fresh linens, dusted and everything.
I’d figured maybe I wouldn’t feel too guilty about having sex with him if it wasn’t in a bed I’d shared with Brad.
Then I’d smelled him, and the floral cucumber scent turned my stomach.
It was too sweet. Too not him. My visceral reaction to the moment—slamming the door in his face—still shook me up.
I needed to be careful around Sergei before I ended up doing something as stupid as falling so far into those green eyes that I couldn’t get back up.
I couldn’t forget why I was doing this, so I’d decided I would sleep with him before he lost interest and I lost the chance to snoop.
But we hadn’t found the time. Between my shifts at the hospital and his at the nightclub, we barely saw each other.
A few scattered messages throughout the day.
Short calls that never lasted as long as they should, and I found myself wondering if I’d pushed too hard about us doing it at his place, so I would have the opportunity to go through his stuff.
Maybe he’d found someone else. There wasn’t anything special about me, after all.
I hated my reaction at the thought, the anger that consumed me from inside.
By the time I finally looked up from my desk, the clock crept toward eight.
My shift ended at seven. I leaned back in my chair, rolling my shoulders until my spine popped.
My back ached, and I sensed a warm bath in my near future.
Still, I stayed another twenty minutes, scanning over the last file of a patient whose surgery I would have to perform tomorrow.
Only when I was satisfied did I push back my chair and stand, pressing a hand briefly to my lower back as I reached for my coat.
Soon, I would need to wear something warmer. The November air already carried a lot of bite. I hated the cold and usually took my time off during the winter season. Brad and I used to travel to someplace tropical where the rum was plentiful and the men even more eager to hop into our bed.
The hospital had that rare moment of quiet that, more often than not, was the hush before a storm.
I hurried along the corridors to escape lest I got caught up in whatever was about to disturb the peace.
It wouldn’t be the first time I didn’t leave for home because of one incident that required all hands on deck.
I made my way to the parking lot on autopilot, the cool air hitting my face. Brad’s car sat where I’d left it. I still hadn’t gotten used to that. Where my ride had been flashy, his was much more understated, a simple Camry, reliable and unremarkable.
Mine had been totaled, reduced to something unrecognizable in a matter of seconds, and while the insurance payout had come through, I hadn’t found the time—or the will—to look for something new.
Sergei had mentioned he knew a guy who could get me a good deal.
Of course he did. But no matter what kind of relationship I had with him, I wasn’t about to blur lines.
So I drove Brad’s car.
The engine turned over smoothly, and the heater came on, filling the interior with the faint scent of Brad’s cologne. I adjusted the seat out of habit more than necessity and pulled out of the lot, the drive home passing in a blur of headlights and quiet.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. The kind that made the idea of cooking feel like a chore I didn’t have the strength for, but I pushed through it anyway. Routine and structure were how I kept everything from slipping.
Inside the house, silence greeted me. What was the point of a home without laughter? Without kisses? Without love?
I hung my keys on the keyholder next to the door, put away my coat, and headed straight for the kitchen. If I moved quickly, I could throw something together, step into the shower, and let it cook while I tried to wash the day off me.
I was already running through options—pasta, maybe—mentally checking what I had on hand as I stepped into the kitchen and came to a halt in the doorway. A brown paper bag sat on the counter.
I frowned, stepping closer, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten. The logo stamped on the front was unmistakably my favorite Italian place. The same one I’d directed Sergei to go when buying me dinner.
He’d broken into my house again.
Then why don’t you change the access code?
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, though there was no heat behind it.
I reached for the bag and opened it, the scent hitting me instantly. I checked one container, then another, and still another. Each one was packed carefully, and nothing was out of order. He’d gotten every single thing right—even the sauce on the side.
My mouth curved into a grin before I could stop it.
At the bottom of the paper bag, folded neatly against the last container, was a note.
I pulled it out, unfolding it with a small exhale.
Truth? I expected his handwriting to be barely legible.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. He wrote with a bold flourish, each letter well formed and pleasing to the eye.
Leo,
Didn’t know what else you like. Got you the same thing from the other day.
Make me a list of your favorites so I can get you more variety next time.
S.
PS: I hate your job. I don’t get to see you anymore.
I shook my head, a quiet huff of laughter slipping out as I stared down at the handwriting.
It was getting harder and harder to imagine Sergei was a cold-blooded killer.
He hadn’t appeared on the video footage I’d seen of Leo falling.
Maybe he hadn’t been there, and like Leo’s father, he was only taking the rap for Maxim.
Whatever it was, I would get to the bottom of it. If he was really involved? I wouldn’t spare him. But I hoped like hell he wasn’t.
In the dead of the night, I woke up still drunk on sleep, sensing something was different about my bedroom.
The little moonlight that bled through the curtains made it impossible to see anything, and I didn’t dare reach across the bed to turn on the night table.
Not until I had a sense of what I was up against.
I’d mentally prepared myself that one day the Bratva might come after me too. I was the only one who knew their dirty little secret about what they did to Brad. If they disposed of me, they had nothing to worry about.
A shadow moved at the foot of the bed. I couldn’t make out its shape or anything, but I heard the whisper of clothes, the quiet mask of a footstep stealing across the carpeted floor.
The shadow moved away from the bed, and I let out my breath slowly, thinking they were escaping through the window, only for them to reverse their path and start climbing onto the bed.
Sometimes, when I watched movies and saw how people froze up in the face of danger, I would chastise them.
Until that moment, I didn’t understand how the body could shut down in a second.
The bed dipped under the additional weight, and the person shifted under the covers.
With every ounce of strength I could summon, I let my body relax.
Otherwise, they would know I was awake. The only weapon I had in my arsenal was surprise, and I would hold on to it and use it to my advantage.
An arm gently wrapped around my waist, and a face nuzzled into the back of my neck.
Soft lips pressed against my skin, and a weighted sigh drifted across the room.
The familiar scent filled my nostrils and would usually provide reassurance, but it was the middle of the night and Sergei had snuck into my bedroom.
I’d made it clear I didn’t intend to have sex with him in this bed.
Would he force himself on me?
I waited with bated breath, but he made no attempt to touch me further. He gave a contented sigh, and a few minutes later, a soft snore escaped his lips. Stunned, I remained in his embrace, uncertain what to make of Sergei’s presence in my bed. Had he come over just to sleep?
I told myself that any minute now I would wake him up and send him away, but it felt so reassuring to feel his presence behind me and his arm around my waist. I shifted to make myself more comfortable, and his arm tightened, pulling me even closer until my ass was snug against his crotch.
Somewhere in the middle of deciding how to wake him up, I must have fallen asleep. For the first time since Brad’s burial, I slept through the night without waking several times.
It was the best rest I’d had.
But by the time my phone alarm went off at five forty-five, Sergei had already left.