Chapter 10 – Elias
I should go to my brother, make sure he’s okay. I should. But Sage’s body is flush with my back and she’s shaking.
I turn to her and palm her cheek. “Are you okay?”
She looks up into my eyes, her tanned face pale and tears pooling in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. “I just need to get out of here.”
I glance at Noah, and she gives me a nod, letting me know she can take care of Lance. I grab Sage’s hand and pull her out of the room.
She looks like she’s seconds away from throwing up.
I call my driver as we walk down the hallway and by the time we make it outside, he’s pulling up. I don’t even care to retrieve the weapons I handed over to Lenetti’s security and open the door for Sage. After helping her inside the tall SUV, I walk around and get in.
“Where do you live?” I ask as the driver pulls away .
She stares out the window, hands twisting in her lap.
“Sage,” I say a little more forcefully this time.
She sucks in a quick but shaken breath. “Take me to your place.”
I want to question her, ask her why she’s still refusing to tell me where she lives, but she’s shutting down on me, and I’m desperate not to lose her again.
I nod to my driver, and we head to Brooklyn Heights.
I bought an apartment building there last year and moved into the penthouse.
It’s one of the many homes or apartments I have throughout Queens and Brooklyn but it’s my favorite by far.
The building sits on the New York Harbor waterfront with views of the Manhattan skyline and the Brooklyn Bridge.
After a fifteen-minute drive, we pull up to the front of a thirty-story building. One of my soldiers is there waiting to open the door.
I take Sage’s hand in mine and walk toward the building’s entrance.
When I bought this place, I increased security measures. I hired ex-military as guards, installed cameras throughout the building, and added a key card scanner for my penthouse that only my most trusted men have access to.
The tenants have been vetted by my head of security and my tech guy. A handful of my soldiers also live in units so I can have them close when needed .
If Sage notices the big men in suits at the entrance, she doesn’t say anything. We enter my private elevator, and it starts moving after I tap a card on the reader.
Sage snorts, and it’s the first emotion to come out of her since witnessing Lenetti stab my brother with a fork and shutting down.
“Something funny?” I tease, squeezing her hand.
Does she realize we’re still holding hands?
“How rich are you?”
“Very.”
“That’s a non-answer.”
“You want a number?”
“Yeah. Tell me, you snob.”
I chuckle this time, and Sage perks up at the sound of my laugh.
“My net worth is somewhere around $900 million.”
“900 fucking million?” Her eyes bug out, mouth open in awe.
“Yes. But half of that is assets—businesses or homes I own. And a portion of that money was obtained… not so legally.”
The elevator dings and the doors open to the foyer.
The space is small, housing a thin table with a blue and gold vase full of daisies on top and an abstract painting on the wall.
My entire apartment is full of items I know nothing about, including their value because I hired an interior designer to make the place feel homey .
To the right is a set of metal double doors. I enter a passcode into the pad and the locks unlatch.
“You sure have a lot of security measures,” Sage whispers.
“Because I have a lot of enemies,” I say, opening the door and waving her inside.
She doesn’t move, and I realize my mistake.
I take her face in my hands.
“We’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She winces, and I’m prepared to question her hesitation.
Something’s telling me that her distress goes beyond what just happened at Lenetti’s.
But before I can offer her assurances, tell her that whatever it is, I can protect her, Sage’s stomach growls.
Her face flushes red, and she hides her embarrassment with her hands.
“Sorry, I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast and dinner was ruined by... well, you know.”
I pull her hands down and grab her chin. “Don’t be sorry, Reine. Don’t ever be sorry.”
She lets out another shaky breath, and my heart pinches with anguish again. I can’t stand seeing her like this. Someone has shaken this beautiful woman’s confidence, and I vow to burn this city to the ground to find out who.
A fter asking Sage what she wanted for dinner five times and getting the answer ‘I don’t care,’ her stubborn ass finally decided on Thai food.
Well, she technically didn’t decide. I was naming some of my favorite restaurants and cuisines in the area and when I mentioned Thai Villa, her eyes lit up and she let out a quiet ‘ooo.’
Thai Villa is one of the few restaurants in Brooklyn that are completely nut free.
I sent one of my men to pick up our order, and while we wait, Sage wanders around the penthouse. I follow silently as she takes it all in.
Everything excites her, like the baby grand piano sitting in the corner that I never play because it reminds me of my mother. She taught me and my brother but after she was murdered, my heart couldn’t handle playing anymore.
Sage’s fingertips skim over the closed lid, and I expect her to ask me if I can play, but she doesn’t. Maybe she sees the pain in my eyes—the fear of talking about my past.
The rest of the living room is cozy—Sage’s words—with an oversized dark blue cotton couch and loveseat. A modern fireplace sits within one wall, and another wall has a row of bookcases full of either books I don’t read or random crap the interior designer added.
Sage doesn’t ask why I have no photographs or personal items. Again, I’m relieved, but at the same time, I want to tell her about my life. I want to share my pain with her. But I can’t scare her away. Not when she let me bring her to my home instead of trying to run away.
We head down the hallway, and she pokes her head in the guest bedroom. After finding nothing of interest, she moves on to my office that I rarely work out of because I’m hardly ever home. Finding nothing interesting in the office either, we move on to the main bedroom.
Sage’s eyes light up. She immediately goes to the king-sized bed and falls back, testing its firmness. She spreads out her legs and arms and does a ‘snow angel’ on top of the red comforter.
She looks perfectly at home in this room.
She lets out an adorable giggle before standing and walking to one of two floor-to-ceiling windows.
With her hands flat and nose smashed against the glass, she watches the rest of the sunset over the Brooklyn Bridge.
I don’t even care that she’s leaving smudges.
It only makes my cock jerk with thoughts of fucking her against that glass, leaving more smudges with her ass.
Once the food arrives, we bring it into the living room and sit on the floor. I lay out spring rolls, dumplings, pad Thai, drunken noodles, and fried rice on the coffee table in front of us.
Sage’s eyes widen when I lower the TV screen from the ceiling, covering the window wall that overlooks Lower Manhattan. I hand the remote to Sage, and she picks out some reality baking show on one of the many streaming apps I have but never use.
We eat in silence, aside from the chatter on TV, and by the time we finish our food, Sage is relaxed and on her second glass of the red wine I chose to pair with the Thai.
I can’t remember the last time I sat down and watched anything. But now, hearing this beautiful woman snort when the contestants reveal their poorly made cakes, yelling ‘nailed it’ when they didn’t, in fact, nail it makes me want to steal her away and forget about this life of crime.
While the episode is in its final round, I clear off the plates and takeout containers from the coffee table, storing the leftovers in my near-empty fridge.
I fill up a glass of ice water and return to the living room. Sage has moved up to the couch and has her long, thick legs tucked underneath her. She scrunches her nose when I hand her the glass, letting me know she’d rather have more wine, but she drinks it anyway.
Good.
I can’t have her getting drunk when I plan to properly bed her.
We’ve fucked in my office and in a hotel lobby’s bathroom, but Sage deserves better than that.
When the show finally ends, and she’s had her second glass of water, she picks up the remote and shuts off the TV .
I’m sitting on the other end of the couch, and she turns to me.
And stares.
I’m nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks and raise a brow before taking a sip.
She rolls her eyes.
“How did you become…” She waves her hand up and down my body.
“Sexy?”
She scoffs, her hand flails around the living room getting more dramatic.
“Rich?” I offer.
She huffs and I laugh, the sound rattling deep within my chest. It almost startles me because I can’t remember the last time I’d been so amused by anything let alone anyone.
“A mafia boss?”
“Yes, you big oaf!”
I laugh again and Sage smiles with me. It lights up her soft, tanned face. My eyes fall to her pouty red lips before returning to her inquisitive gaze.
I shoot back the rest of the whiskey before setting the glass on the table beside me.
Inhaling deeply, I prepare myself for these memories.
The ones that haunt me when I sleep. The ones that remind me how dangerous my life is and how I brought this woman into a world she doesn’t belong in.
But maybe Sage does belong. She has secrets.
I need to know why she’s hiding behind a false identity.
Does Noah not know her best friend is lying?