Chapter 3 #2
I give her ass a firm slap through the dress, and her struggles stop instantly, and I swear I can feel her holding her breath.
Hauling her to the Bentley, I drop her in the front seat, closing the door fast so she can’t escape.
When I slide into the driver’s side, she’s already sulking with folded arms.
“Seatbelt. I’m very big on safety,” I say, starting the engine.
She turns to stare out the window with her jaw set in stubborn defiance. But that’s fine. She can pout all she wants because at least she’s not trying to jump out of a moving vehicle.
We drive through the city, and after a few minutes, I look over at her stiff posture in the front seat. “You look beautiful.”
She glances my way without emotion. “You’re hideous.”
I laugh out loud, surprising myself. “I knew you were a liar, but damn, you’re committed to it.”
“Well, deal with it.”
My amusement continues as she starts punching at the stereo controls aggressively. “What do you even have on these radio stations?”
“Find something to listen to,” I tell her, curious what she’ll choose.
She flips through them, but everything comes back to opera and classical. She rolls her eyes and throws herself back against the seat. “At least it won’t be oddly quiet here,” she mutters.
“You’re coming for both my looks and my music choices?”
She scoffs. “I’d rather listen to construction noise.”
“Okay, that was funny,” I snort, keeping my eyes on the road.
This is my usual spot because it’s discreet for work and the menu is solid. Once we’re in our corner booth, her eyes travel over the expensive decor, pressed table coverings, and elaborate flower displays.
She takes her seat and cuts straight to business.
“I know free food isn’t your motivation here, so why invite me to dinner or a date or whatever you’re calling it?”
“What? I can’t wine and dine you?”
“Oh, you can. I would never turn down a free dinner as long as you don’t expect to fuck me afterwards.”
I laugh, leaning back in the booth. “Oh, that was actually the plan. Wine, dine, then fuck.”
“You are a nasty motherfucker. Why would I want to sleep with you in the first place?”
“I don’t have trouble finding willing partners, beautiful.” I wave over our waiter. “Though that’s not actually why we’re sitting here.”
Her eyes narrow. “Then why?”
“I came to tell you to stop snooping around my business. Just because I forgave you two times doesn’t mean that you’ll be safe the third time.
Don’t cross boundaries, Zoya. Find something else to do.
Stalk some celebrity, write social gossip, start a fashion blog, or whatnot. Stay out of mafia business.”
She opens her mouth, but I keep going.
“I know you have a reputation for getting kidnapped and being let go for free. You don’t pay much for your freedom.
They just take your laptop or camera, delete everything, and you’re free.
You’re actually lucky they do that. You’re so pretty, they let you go most times.
” I lean forward. “But don’t cross the wrong gang.
And I am the wrong gang, beautiful. So I would suggest you stop coming to my establishments. Or there will be consequences.”
She remains calm. “Suppose I don’t stop investigating your locations and revealing your operations? What’s your move? Assassination?”
“Absolutely not.” I deny. “Killing someone as attractive as you would be a crime against humanity, but I’ll guarantee your evidence disappears permanently, and if you continue testing my patience, I’ll guarantee you disappear too, alive but locked somewhere so long you won’t remember what blue sky looks like. ”
She locks eyes with me. “All you just managed to do was issue a dare. Don’t complain about my response.”
Before I can say a word, she signals the waiter over. “I want three whole lobsters, plus beef wellington and two steaks, everything packaged to leave, please and thank you.”
The server hesitates. “We don’t usually do takeout…”
“Just find a way to give the woman her meal to go,” I interrupt. “I’ll pay for it.”
The waiter nods quickly and disappears. She smiles sweetly in my direction. “You’re a gem, love.”
After twenty minutes, she’s on the sidewalk holding five bags of expensive food in fancy packaging, and based on the strange looks directed at her, everyone’s confused about this place suddenly doing takeout.
“I’ll drive you home,” I say, gesturing to the Bentley.
“No thanks.” She’s already pulling out her phone. “I’ll take a cab.”
A cab appears within seconds, which is suspiciously fast.
She approaches the cab with all her takeout, but I spot my operative in the passenger seat giving the driver a signal, who takes the cue and drives off quickly.
Zoya stops mid-step, staring after the departing cab.
“Are you kidding me…?”
Another taxi gets close, and my man in the passenger seat nods at the driver, who speeds past us. A third one reduces speed, spots us, and quickly drives off. Zoya turns around slowly, her eyes narrowing at me. “What did you do?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Alexei.”
“Yes, beautiful?”
“Did you pay off every taxi driver in Moscow?”
I shrug. “Not everyone. That would be excessive.”
“You’re such a control freak.”
I open the door to the Bentley. “Get in the car, Zoya.”
She fixes me with an angry expression, maintains it, and then surveys the quiet road, absent of any vehicles. “I can’t stand you,” she grumbles as she approaches the vehicle.
“You wouldn’t be the first who couldn’t.” I collect the takeout from her hands and place it beside the presents. “I have a reputation to uphold here.”
She slides into the passenger seat with her arms crossed again, and I get behind the wheel and start driving.
She breaks the quiet eventually. “You can’t manipulate every single thing, you realize that?”
“Want to test that theory?”
She turns to glare at me, but I catch the tiniest hint of a smile pulling at her lips before she looks away. Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at her place, and her hand goes straight to the door.
“Appreciate the lift. Let me grab my food…”
“I’m accompanying you inside.”
“No chance.”
“Already decided.” I leave my seat and access the trunk, loading my arms with food containers, the box holding the designer bag, both sets of flowers, and the enormous bear.
She eyes the stack of items. “What’s all this stuff?”
“Gifts.”
“For who?”
“For you.” I nod toward her building. “Lead the way.”
“Alexei, you don’t need to…”
“Lead the way, Zoya.”
She sighs, clearly knowing she’s not going to win this argument.
She walks to the entrance, and I follow, carrying everything.
The bear keeps bumping into doorframes. Zoya lives three floors up in a cramped building with tight stairways and peeling walls.
Once we arrive at her place, she turns the key but keeps the door mostly closed.
“Okay. You can leave everything here. Thank you for…”
I push past her gently, walking inside.
“Alexei!”