Chapter Seventeen – Roman
I think you have the most kissable lips on planet Earth.
The chair swiveled, and I groaned.
You’re my boss. My boss…all mine. The man on Old McDonald’s farm, with the most beautiful eyes, most beautiful structure…. The most satisfying dick. The only man I know who fucks right.
I slammed my fist on the desk, bringing the thoughts to an abrupt halt. One week later, and I still couldn’t get her out of my fucking mind. The images and sounds were as vivid as they’d been that night: the taste of wine and dirty words on her lips, her slick, wet cunt gliding on my fingers, her warmth, and my name rolling off her tongue as I fucked her into oblivion.
Damn it.
She’d left impressions too big to erase. And it started with that red fucking dress. I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Her confidence left me wanting more. When I tried to focus, my mind kept wandering back to her, consumed by the need to have her again.
My phone buzzed on the desk, and I picked it up. A text from Eduard flashed on the screen.
Join me at the club on Friday night?
I scoffed, typing out a quick response.
No, I’m good. Would be busy.
His reply was quicker.
Couldn’t possibly imagine why.
Knowing my brother, he had a wry smile behind that text.
My lips curved to the side.
*Middle finger*
I sent it and dropped the phone.
I didn’t need distraction, didn't need the temptation. She was the only thing on my mind. I couldn’t help myself.
If this was what people called an obsession, then I was guilty. I needed to see her, to touch her, to taste her again. I felt like a junkie, craving my next fix, and she was the only one who could satisfy me.
The door opened, and Lev pranced in, closing in on my desk with a blue file.
“Name is Finn Jameson. Forty-one years old. American. Been in and out of prison a couple of times in the past. Juvie, actual prison. Even had a one-time recommendation to get checked at a mental hospital. They did. He’s sane. Sane enough to keep going around, looking for trouble. But none of those things were hard for us to figure out,” he said, taking the seat across mine.
“What we didn’t know, however, is that Finn’s been in this business for a long, long time. He’s been operating right under our noses, somehow making himself invisible under the fucking radar, because why are we only finding out about him now? Easy, I’ll tell you: It’s because the mole is so fucking good at hiding.”
I flexed my fingers under my chin. “How long?”
He opened the file, flipped a page, and pointed to the list of Finn’s crimes highlighted in red. “He’s been in the game since he was sixteen, imagine that. Loan fraud, extortion, kidnapping, you name it. Goes in there, gets the job done, and you wouldn’t even suspect the guy next door. Keeps his client’s profile under a tight mum.”
“He’s a crook, though,” he continued. “With the loan thing, it’s a wicked bait, especially to people that can’t pay back.”
Like Maria and her father , I seethed.
I was well acquainted with the Finn-kind. The kind that preyed on the helpless. They’d appear like saviors with understanding hearts, and when it was time to return the favor, the devil underneath the cloak would appear, requesting everything else.
Lev’s voice floated back. “Nothing but a misguided lad, misguiding others. He’s a freelance operative, working multiple jobs for the highest bidder, no questions asked.”
I pushed the file back to him with a smirk playing on my lips. “Why does it sound like you’re impressed?”
“Maybe a little,” he murmured, though eyes held anything but humor. Challenged was what they were. Knowing Lev, he liked to be at the top of his game. “He’s smart, I’ll give him that. But we’ve dealt with chameleons before. They don’t stay hidden for long.”
“If we want to catch him, we have to set traps.”
“And I know exactly how to set them.” He looked at me, determined. “All I need is your word, Roman, and I’ll bring you the fucker’s head.”