Chapter 23
EVERLEIGH
I wake up alone.
For a second, I just stare at the ceiling while I listen to the noise from the traffic below.
The room still smells like him.
Whiskey, cologne.. and now, sex.
My body reacts instantly at the memory of last night as I pull the blanket tighter around myself.
I don’t remember falling asleep with one on us, which means at some point during the night, Dante must’ve tucked it around me before he left.
I slowly push myself upright, wincing slightly at the ache between my thighs before glancing toward the other side of the bed.
Bitterness settles in my chest instantly.
I drag a hand slowly through my hair when my phone buzzes against the nightstand beside the bed. Reaching for it, I glance down at the text message lighting up the screen.
Dante:
Your father requested that I go and handle a few things at RS’s warehouse. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Next time, I will be.
My chest tightens.
I’m upset that he’s not here. But I also understand that he still technically works for my father. Just like me.
My phone buzzes again.
Dante:
And Leigh?
Don’t start pretending that this didn’t happen.
I stare at the screen for a long second after reading it and then scoff, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand.
My eyes drift toward the skyline outside the windows while pieces of last night replay inside my head whether I want them to or not.
Dante Rivera has always been dangerous to me in ways nobody else ever noticed.
He knows exactly how to get underneath my skin and stay there.
I throw the blanket off myself and swing my legs over the side of the bed, immediately regretting it when another ache settles through my body.
“Ouch,” I mutter under my breath.
The room stays dim beneath the storm clouds outside, gray light stretching across the bedroom floor through the windows.
I slowly pull myself out of bed, slipping my robe back on before heading toward the kitchen barefoot.
Coffee’s already sitting in the pot, and it’s still warm.
Which means my father’s already home.
That realization wipes the small amount of softness left from this morning straight off my face.
I grab a mug from the cabinet quietly before pouring myself coffee, trying not to think too hard about the fact that my father was that close to catching us together.
My body still aches from last night beneath the sherpa robe hanging off of my frame, and every step towards my father’s office keeps dragging pieces of the memory back into my head.
I press my hand against his office door, opening it slowly.
“I was wondering when you would join me.”
His voice cuts through the room calmly.
I step fully into the office, tightening the robe slightly around myself as my father looks up from the paperwork scattered across his desk.
He leans back slowly in his chair, dark eyes dragging over me carefully enough that nervousness immediately starts creeping up my spine.
“Are you injured?” he asks calmly.
My grip tightens slightly around the coffee mug.
“I slipped in the shower last night. Just a bit sore, nothing too serious.”
One corner of his mouth twitches faintly. “Mm.”
He watches me like he suspects something.
Or maybe he’s just doing what he always does best and is making me uncomfortable enough so that I start exposing myself.
I lean against the doorway instead of sitting down.
That earns another look too.
“Did you happen to find out what family has been causing issues for us?” he asks casually while flipping through one of the files on his desk.
I let out a quiet breath “Yes. The Sidorov’s.”
Father’s expression barely changes when I mention the name.
“The Sidorov family has become too comfortable lately,” he mutters while shutting the file in front of him. “They’re moving through Brooklyn like the borough belongs to them.”
I stay quiet, sipping my coffee slowly while watching him.
“They have someone at River Street,” I continue carefully. “Somebody there is feeding them information.”
His eyes slowly lift back toward mine. “I know.”
Father folds his hands together loosely on top of the desk. “Rivera agrees with your assessment.”
That name alone immediately puts me on edge.
“You spoke with him?” I ask casually, trying to sound more indifferent than interested.
One of his brows raises slightly at how quickly the question leaves my mouth.
I take another sip of coffee to cover it.
“He’s handling security rotations currently for that location,” he answers calmly before continuing, “Back to the point, the Sidorov family has been testing boundaries for months now.” He breathes out. “River Street. The docks. Brooklyn routes.”
I slowly sip my coffee again. “Which means they think we’re weak for some reason.”
“Or,” he says, “they were promised protection by someone.”
He rises slowly from behind the desk, smoothing out the front of his suit before walking around it and stopping directly in front of his office windows.
The movement immediately straightens my posture without my meaning for it to.
Even now, some part of me still reacts to him like I’m sixteen again.
He overlooks Manhattan, hands loosely clasped behind his back.
“Betrayal,” he says calmly, “usually starts with emotion.”
Something about the way he says it makes my stomach tighten.
My fingers curl more firmly around the coffee mug.
“People become attached,” Father continues quietly. “Then they start making exceptions for one another. Eventually loyalty starts blurring.” He continues. “Whoever’s feeding the Sidorovs information is close enough to us to know what our movements are going to be before they happen.”
His eyes shift from the window and land on me. “That narrows the list considerably.”
I bite lightly against the inside of my lip, waiting for him to say something else.
Anything else.
“Marco’s unstable.” He says.
“Viktor’s too emotional.” He hums.
“Rivera’s loyal, but not family.”
Uncomfortability twists in my chest at hearing Dante included in the list.
Like he’s just another potential problem to eliminate.
“And then there’s you,” he finishes.
I blink a few times. ‘Wh- what? Me?”
I tense slightly, but try to cover it up with clearing my throat.
Father walks closer slowly, stopping directly in front of me.
Close enough that I can smell the faint cigar smoke lingering on his suit jacket.
“I want you to find out who it is,” he says flatly. “Quietly. You’re the only one I trust enough with this task.”
I nod once.
He turns to walk back towards his desk, but then stops, turning to face me. “And Everleigh?”
“Yes?”
“If I discover you’re the reason information has been leaking..” One corner of his mouth twitches faintly. “You won’t like the consequences.”
The tension sits heavily between us until I respond.
“I understand, Father,” I answer carefully.
His eyes stay locked onto mine for another second before he finally steps around his desk again, taking a seat as if he didn’t just casually threaten my life as I took my morning coffee.
“Good,” he mutters. “Now, get dressed. I want you to meet with Rivera at River Street within the hour.”