Chapter 26 #2
I have absolutely no idea how to play this.
On the plane, Luke mentioned tearing up the contract.
But I still don’t know what that means. I feel like I’m swimming around in a sea of confusion.
There is certainty in business, and certainty when we’re naked.
I have no fucking idea about what happens between those two things.
Or what happens when the business part ends.
And despite my resolution to take Darya’s advice and just enjoy myself, the not knowing is killing me.
The silence draws out to the point where it’s about to get uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you just ask me, Zinaida?”
I look up, startled, to find him grinning at me crookedly. “Whatever is causing you to mince that innocent sweet potato,” he goes on, “just spit it out.”
I glance back down at the board. He’s right. The sweet potato is almost mash.
“Fine.” I meet his eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. “You said you tore up the contract with Mak. I don’t know what that means.”
“It means exactly what I said: that, for now, being here, doing this work with you, is my choice.” His voice is low and reassuring, his eyes steady on mine. “After we get to the bottom of all this, we can revisit the topic.”
For now.
The words echo uncomfortably inside my head as I turn back to the meal prep.
He’s not making any promises.
Then again—do I want promises?
“Zinaida.” My head jerks up, the hand holding the knife poised in midair.
Luke nods at the hand holding the knife. “Want to put that down? Not that your reputation concerns me, but I’ve never enjoyed having a blade waved in my face.”
I lower my hand, biting my lip to stop the gurgle of laughter that always seems close to the surface when Luke is around.
“You can call Mak, if you like, and check this with him.” He pops an olive into his mouth.
“Bottom line, though, is what I just told you. I’m working directly for the Mercura board for now, so our contract is null and void.
” He eyes me. “That means you’re definitely no longer a client, in case I didn’t explain that clearly enough. ”
I’m still trying to process the first part of what he said. “The Mercura board,” I repeat flatly. “You know about that?”
He takes another olive. “Yup.” Luke looks suspiciously like he’s enjoying this.
“For how long, exactly, have you known about it?” Since there are barely two dozen people worldwide who know of the existence of the Mercura board, he can hardly blame me for being taken aback.
“Hmm.” He tilts his head to one side. “Let’s see. Since Miami, maybe? Or maybe it was the first time Roman took me to the lab in Spain.” He shrugs. “Hard to remember.”
He’s definitely enjoying this.
The lab is the Mercura operations center.
It’s an underground bunker in the Spanish mountains, a place so carefully guarded not even the board members are able to access it without being accompanied by Roman himself.
The fact that Luke even knows of its existence, let alone has actually visited it, is a clear indication of the esteem in which Roman holds him.
“And now it’s the board you’re working for,” I say, unable to stop a stupidly happy feeling from spreading through me.
“More or less, yes.” He leans over the counter and tilts my face up, his eyes only inches from mine. “So can we drop it now and enjoy dinner?”
I shouldn’t feel happy at all, given the brewing problems we’re facing with Lowbridge and Kozlov. But I am. Even if his answer does throw up even more questions, not the least of which is what, exactly, he’s doing for Mercura.
“Don’t ask.” Reading my mind with predictable accuracy, Luke kisses me, hard and fast, then lets my face go, leaving me short of breath and extremely disinterested in dinner. “Mercura can wait for another day.”
I hear Darya’s voice in my head: “Maybe just settle for searingly hot sex for a while?”
Flushing, I nod. “So. What, exactly, do you think we should do about this whole Lowbridge situation?”
“I have some ideas.” Luke’s voice is suddenly rather grim. “Many of which involve inviting Lowbridge to one of your torture rooms and spending some quality time with him.”
“Really?” I frown at him, thinking it through. “Do you think that’s smart?”
He gives a cough of laughter. “Unfortunately, no. Or not yet, at least.” He reaches for my glass and pours more wine into it.
“For now, let’s give Lowbridge what he wants.
Invite him to the Winter Ball, or at least imply that an invitation is coming.
Let him think his intimidation tactics have worked.
That will give me some breathing room to work out what is going on.
” He pours himself a glass. “And by the way,” he says quietly, glancing up at me, “when the time comes to put Lowbridge in a torture room, I’ll be the one in there with him. Not you.”
For a moment I think I should argue.
I do the punishing of my enemies myself. I always have.
It’s one of the parts of my charade, one of the ways I maintain control. My reputation is what has kept me safe all these years, and sometimes that reputation has to be freshened up, so people remember.
But the truth is it’s been a long time since I’ve taken any satisfaction in pulling that mask on. And if I’m honest, even before Luke I had to start working harder and harder to show men the psychopath that made me infamous.
Maybe it’s because my empire has changed, rapidly and dramatically, from the days when I beat and scrapped my way through the gutter of London’s criminal gangs to rise above it.
I finally made it to a place where I no longer feared men like my father, and they in turn feared me enough to no longer try to destroy me.
But between Sophie’s House, my investment in Mercura, and the political connections I’ve nurtured, I’ve expanded my reach far beyond the criminal world. My empire has grown so large and become so powerful that my reputation almost feels like a relic from my past, one I don’t need anymore.
The problem is that I do need the fear that reputation inspires. I always will, because those men and that world will always be out there, looking for me.
I’ve just never thought I could hand the problem of inspiring that fear over to anyone else. It never even occurred to me. The idea of granting anyone that kind of power, if I’d ever thought of it, would have seemed utterly foolish, like giving away my greatest advantage.
But Luke isn’t a competitor. He needs nothing from me. I know he doesn’t want my empire for himself.
And he’s also the only man I actually trust to stand in those rooms and wield the whip, either metaphorically or physically.
The relief of that realization is so strong I actually slump against the counter, gripping the edge of it tightly.
“Okay,” I say, my voice slightly unsteady. “Yes. That would be . . . Yes.”
I turn toward the stove, but Luke’s hand comes out, touching my chin. He tilts my face toward him, his eyes examining mine closely. I’m terrified he’s going to ask me questions that will make the unsteady emotions in me even worse than they already are.
Instead, he just looks at me for a long moment. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone. “Okay, then,” he says quietly.