Chapter 18
GABBY
The street outside Le James still smells like burnt rubber and gunpowder. Police tape snaps in the wind and glass glitters in the gutter.
Angie and I are a block away, still in the back of the black SUV, now parked.
“You okay, Ange?” I ask.
She looks as if she’s a million miles away, but something is different about her now, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
She doesn’t respond. I reach over, placing my hand on her knee and giving her a little squeeze.
“Huh? What?” She blinks and shakes her head, coming back into the moment.
“You alright?”
She nods. “Yeah. Fine. I mean, I’m a bit shaken up.”
“I get it. I just wanted to say thanks for what you did back there. If you hadn’t pulled me down like that…” I trail off, not even wanting to think about it.
Angie smiles. “Just being a friend. Or co-mama bear.”
I laugh. “Thank you. But seriously, you alright?”
Another nod. “Yeah. Just… a, um, friend of mine’s coming to get me. I don’t want you to get freaked out.”
“Wait, is this the mysterious boyfriend? He’s coming? I get to finally meet him?”
Her mouth forms into a hard line. I was trying to be light and fun about it, but she’s being serious as it gets. “You might’ve met him before, actually. He’s—”
She doesn’t finish. I watch as her gaze tracks a sleek, dark blue sports car as it pulls around the corner and comes to a stop. The door opens, and someone steps out.
Johan Morozov.
It all clicks into place.
“Wait, him? He’s your boyfriend?”
She doesn’t say anything, and I understand why she’s been so secretive about this. Johan is competition. Sure, there might be a merger, but as of right now, Angie is one of our top marketing analysts, and she’s dating the CEO of a company we’ve been butting heads with for the last year.
Not a good look.
I turn my attention back to Johan. He’s devilishly handsome—razor-cut jaw, slicked-back blonde hair, and eyes hidden behind designer shades. He’s clad in a sharp, tailored, slate suit. Where Sasha is old-school class, Johan is new money, flashy and a little over the top.
He pulls off his shades, revealing sharp, bright blue eyes—another total contrast to Sasha’s gorgeous, obsidian ones. He moves toward the scene, a slight strut to his gait.
I don’t have all that much time to assess him before another car pulls up to the scene—one of Sasha’s black SUVs.
The car parks and Sasha steps out. His gaze immediately locks onto the car I’m in.
I open the door and he walks towards me, moving faster than I’ve ever seen him move before.
I step out, and once he’s close, he pulls me into a tight hug.
God, it feels good.
He lets go, giving me a quick look up and down, checking me for any injuries himself. “Any pain? Dizziness?”
“None of that, doctor,” I say with a little smile. “But a healthy amount of pure, incandescent rage.”
I glance over my shoulder and notice that Angie and Johan seem to be arguing.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says.
“You didn’t answer,” he replies. “I heard about the shooting and knew you were going to be here for lunch. What the hell was I supposed to do?” He doesn’t touch her. He reaches but refuses the impulse.
I realize what’s happening—Johan knows that touching her would make it clear they’re together. And Sasha wouldn’t like that one bit.
Sasha steps closer to the pair, and I follow. “Why is he here?” he asks.
“Because he’s—” Angie starts but doesn’t get a chance to finish.
“I’m here for Angela,” Johan says, cutting in. His eyes are on Sasha. Not hostile, not deferential. A simple statement of fact.
My stomach drops three inches. So much for avoiding confrontation.
“For Angela,” Sasha repeats.
Angie lifts her chin. Whatever fear she might’ve felt is long gone. “We’re together,” she says simply. “And we have been for a while.”
Her words are like a bomb going off. She flicks me a quick look of sympathy, like she’s sorry for not telling me, sorry for what she’s pulled me into, then turns back to Sasha with calm confidence on her face.
“We’ve kept it private,” she says.
“Private,” Sasha repeats. It doesn’t sound so nice and innocent when he says it. “You work at AngelCorp. He runs Dandelion.” He doesn’t bother to explain why this would bother him.
“And we keep everything separate,” she says. “No disclosures shared, no devices crossed. Totally on the level.”
Sasha narrows his eyes. “On the level aside from keeping me in the dark about it.”
Johan steps forward half a pace, shoulders loose, hands visible. “Her personal life is none of your concern,” he says. “It has nothing to do with business.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot one of the policemen on the scene moving closer, as if sensing that a fight between two of the richest men in Chicago is about two seconds from breaking out.
“We good here?” the policeman asks.
“We’re good,” Sasha says smoothly.
“Okay, everyone take a deep breath,” I say. “Ange and I nearly got killed. She saved my life in there, if that counts for anything.”
Sasha’s gaze flicks to me, then Angie. “Clear your desk.”
Angie’s eyes widen. “Are you firing me?”
“I said clear your desk. By the end of the day.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, glaring at him.
Angie flinches, then straightens until she could cut glass with her posture.
“Understood,” she says, her voice steady.
“By end of day.” She’s smart enough to understand that causing a scene wouldn’t do her any favors.
I can tell she’s pissed, using every last bit of her strength to keep her anger in check.
Johan’s a different story. His eyes flash. “Are you fucking kidding, Orlov?”
Sasha turns those obsidian eyes onto Johan. “I don’t need your commentary on how to run my company. I know how to handle what’s mine.”
The word lands on my skin like a brand. I hate it.
“Enough,” I cut in. “This isn’t a conference room—it’s a damn sidewalk right in front of a crime scene.” I glance at Angie. “You okay with him?” I nod in Johan’s direction.
“Yes,” she says without a trace of hesitation in her voice.
I turn to Johan. “She’s safe with you?”
“Yes, of course,” he answers before turning to Sasha. “So you fire my girlfriend in the middle of a goddamn crime scene, twenty minutes after getting shot at, and you think I won’t take that personally?”
Sasha doesn’t flinch. “It’s just business. You of all people should know that.”
Johan says nothing, his hands balled into fists. For a moment, I worry he might take a swing. That would not be a good idea.
The space between the two men is silent, the only sound coming from the low din of traffic in the distance and the chatter of police radios. A few cops are watching from a few yards away, poised to rush in and break things up if they have to. But it doesn’t happen.
Angie steps between the two men. “Enough. Johan, let’s go.”
Johan exhales, and I sense the temperature of the space lower by a few degrees. It’s enough to make me feel confident that no one’s going to leave this confrontation with a bloody nose—or worse.
“If this is how AngelCorp does business, perhaps I need to rethink our merger.”
“Do what you want,” says Sasha, low and final.
Johan looks my way, his expression softening, as if extending apologies for…
something. Then he places his hand on the small of Angie’s back, guiding her toward his car.
She glances back at me just once, eyes meeting mine, and a quick look almost manages to telepathically transmit: Be careful with him.
When they’re gone, Sasha lays his hand on my shoulder—more of a directing gesture, not tender. “We’re leaving.”
“Of course we are,” I mutter. “I’m just another pawn to move on your chessboard, after all.”
His jaw tightens. “Gabriella.”
“I nearly got killed—again—and your first instinct is to fire my best friend and then move me around like cargo?” My voice cracks as I speak, and I hate that it does. “Do you even hear yourself?”
He starts to speak, the flashing lights of the police cars painting his face in red and blue. Suddenly, I can’t stand the sight of him looking so composed while everything around us feels so shattered.
“Get in the car,” he says finally. His voice is low, with a tinge of exhaustion.
“I’m not done—”
“If you want to fight, we can fight in the car. But not here.” He steps over to the car and opens the passenger door for me.
I grunt in anger as I step over to the car and slide inside.
The ride is silent for the first few blocks. I stare out the window, the city sliding past in a hazy blur of buildings and people and daylight. My heart is still racing from the shooting, but anger at Sasha wins out over the fear.
“You shouldn’t have fired her,” I say. “Angie didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She most certainly did. She’s been in a relationship with the man with whom I’ve been negotiating a merger. And she didn’t disclose it. Angela’s not some intern—she has a major role in AngelCorp. Dishonesty from someone like her, especially this kind of dishonesty… I won’t tolerate it.”
“Well, she could very well be the reason I’m alive.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” I puff up my chest at this a little. “When the shooting started, I was sitting there like an idiot. She grabbed me, pulled me to the ground, positioned herself in front of me.”
Sasha says nothing at first, considering my words. “I’m not throwing her out on her ass,” he says. “She’ll be given a very generous severance package and a full benefits package. A good deal, considering what she’s done.”
“You might’ve just blown this whole merger.”
“If so, that was my decision to make.”
“Maybe it was. But I’m the one who just spent two months of my life busting my ass for this merger, just so you can throw it all away because your ego is bruised over Angie not disclosing a relationship.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “My ego?”
“Yes. You threw a hissy fit, and I hope you realize what it might’ve cost you.”
He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. I don’t know whether I just got him dead to rights, or if he isn’t in the mood to fight. Maybe a little of both.
After a little time, he speaks. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not. But it’s done. And we’re getting you checked out at the hospital.”
I turn toward him, ready to fight, ready to tell him he doesn’t get to order me around. But I see the look in his eyes. It’s not arrogance, anger, or annoyance.
It’s worry.
For me and the baby.
The car keeps moving. I don’t say another word.