Chapter Ten #2
Three hours fly by quickly, and I barely even notice because I completely lose myself in the work, grateful for something ordinary in the middle of all the extraordinary going on.
Around noon, I leave the office to verify inventory on one of the incoming yachts.
The marina is busier than I remember. Tourists drift down the docks, crew members haul supplies, and delivery trucks come and go through the service entrance near the fuel station.
Nobody pays much attention to the trucks, and I can’t believe that in all the months I worked here before, I never noticed them.
My gaze lingers on one truck as it disappears beyond the gates.
For the first time since arriving this morning, I find myself wondering how difficult it would be to leave not just the marina, but Leonid as well.
I could sneak right into one of the delivery trucks and let it drive me straight out to freedom, but the thought lasts only a second before his warning echoes through my head.
Don’t try to run, or I can’t promise your parents or best friend will be safe.
My stomach knots and a wave of nausea climbs up my throat.
Damn him.
There’s a chance he was bluffing, but knowing the kind of man he is and how terrifying he can be, I know the chances are very, very slim that he won’t keep his promise.
I think of Audrey and my parents, dead with blood dripping from gunshot wounds while Leonid glares down at their lifeless bodies, and my blood curdles.
No.
I’m not willing to risk their lives for my freedom, at least not until I find a way to get us all away from him safely.
Or maybe I’m making excuses because I truly don’t want to escape him.
I force my attention back to work and continue toward the yacht until Leonid appears with Artem and one other guy by his side.
I steal a glance at my husband. He’s wearing another tailored black suit with a white dress shirt. His face is blank, his steel gray eyes cold with that murderous glare I’ve seen him use with everyone but me.
He’s sinfully handsome, with a strong jaw that’s sharp enough to cut stone. Under different circumstances, I’m sure I would’ve fallen in love with him at first sight—instead I tripped over that love and only got insanely attracted to a psychopathic man who thinks I’m his property.
I think I’m even more of a psychopath than he is, because for some reason, butterflies spread their wings in my stomach whenever I think about how possessive he was during our wedding.
It’s like a stupid teenage fantasy.
The hot villain every girl wants is possessive of me, and I’m the luckiest girl alive—at least that’s what I used to find hot in superhero movies. I always hated how the heroes got the girls when the villains were way hotter.
Now that’s become my real life, and I’m not sure if it’s a pretty experience.
His head moves and I quickly look away, pretending I’m drowned in work, like I haven’t spent the last couple of minutes ogling him and wondering what he looks like beneath that suit.
It’s unfair considering he’s already seen me naked. Someone has to teach the man a thing or two about fairness.
When I get back to my office, I return to focusing on work.
The familiar scent of cedar and expensive cologne reaches me before I hear his voice. “Busy?”
My fingers freeze above the keyboard. I look up to find Leonid standing on the opposite side of my desk, pinning me with his gaze.
Staring at me seems like his favorite thing to do recently.
I quickly look away and start typing a load of gibberish in a bid to control how my body reacts to his presence. I absolutely despite the way heat coils in my stomach as every fiber of my being flares awake.
“Don’t you have some bratva things to do?” I ask, trying to act unbothered and internally cursing at my voice for shaking.
He huffs, his eyes darting to my screen for a moment before returning to my face. “I am doing bratva things.”
I bite back a smile. “Watching me work isn’t a bratva thing, Leo.”
He cocks his head to the side, and a lopsided grin plays on his lips. “Leo?” He chuckles. “No one’s ever called me that.”
I’m not sure how the nickname slipped from my lips. Even more, I’m jarred by how okay with it he seems, despite being an absolute maniac of a man. Still, I play it cool.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” I stop typing and stare at him. “Leonid is such a long name. I almost bite my tongue each time I say it. Don’t you like it?”
He shrugs and casually slips a hand into his pants pocket. “Not romantic enough, but it works for now.”
“Romantic? You call me pt…” I mumble, trying to remember the word.
“Ptichka,” he says. “You don’t like it?”
“I don’t know what it means. Is it an insult?”
“Little bird.” He pauses and watches my face for a reaction. “It means little bird.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks and my stomach flutters. Little bird. I wonder how he came up with such an absurd nickname.
Before I can think of a suitable comeback, Jimmy appears carrying a paper-wrapped sandwich. He pauses at the door and his eyes widen with terror when he sees Leonid standing in front of my desk.
“Can you not stand here and terrify the staff?” I grit out through clenched teeth before shifting my focus to Jimmy. “Is that lunch?”
He nods. “I knew you’d forget to eat again, so I thought I’d bring you something.” He turns to Leonid, barely glancing at him. “Welcome, sir.”
It looks like I’m the only one relieved for the interruption, because Leonid doesn’t respond to Jimmy’s greeting. Instead, his expression darkens.
I almost laugh.
This can’t be what I’m thinking.
Surely Leonid’s not jealous of a sixty-year-old marina manager with bad knees and grandchildren bringing me lunch.
He doesn’t like me enough for that.
Yeah, not possible.
Jimmy stiffens uncomfortably as he walks past Leonid and places the sandwich on my desk. “I got you a chicken salad sandwich. Your favorite.”
I smile at the old man, grateful that despite Henry’s absence, there’s still someone here who takes time out of his busy schedule to grab me something to eat.
Speaking of Henry, Leonid hasn’t spoken much about him since our wedding. I hope he’s fine, wherever he is.
“Thanks, Jim.”
The old man smiles back, the wrinkles around his eyes growing even deeper. “Anything for my lady manager.”
Leonid crosses his arms over his chest and says nothing. Somehow, that feels more threatening than if he’d pulled out a gun.
Jimmy either doesn’t notice the silent warning from my husband, or simply doesn’t value his life, because he pats my shoulder before walking away.
The moment he leaves, I look at Leonid, who’s watching Jimmy’s retreating figure. “Don’t.”
His eyes return to mine. “Don’t what?”
I point at the spot where Jimmy disappeared to. “Don’t do whatever you’re thinking. Jimmy’s a frail, kind, old man. And he’s just a friend.”
A slow smile spreads across my husband’s face. “What am I thinking?”