Chapter 31 Ransome
RANSOME
“Your coffee, Mr. Rozanov.” Amara hands me the steaming cup, our eyes locked.
She is wearing a form-fitted emerald green dress. Granted, most things are form-fitted right now with that belly of hers. But in my mind, that only adds to how sexy she looks carrying my baby. It’s impossible for her to hide it, even if she wanted to.
“That’ll be all,” I tell her as she sashays her way out of my office.
I trace my tongue across my front teeth with a grin.
Some days I hate my jobs. Correction—make that jobs.
But today… today is not one of those days.
Despite the fact my schedule is a mess of overseas phone calls and meetings with people who are just trying to get my money simply because I have it, not to mention my dad pretending he’s still a part of the El Paso deal.
But the coffee is right, and the view is pretty damn good too.
I will admit, though, that my mind is making the rounds. While my focus last night was on getting her off, feeling her wet, naked body gyrate on top of mine and nearly getting me off just from the friction, my brain was definitely lingering somewhere else.
I don’t love that her little sister is seeing men hanging around. Because, as much as I brushed it off as paranoia to Amara, I wouldn’t doubt if Tristan had eyes everywhere.
But I don’t want her worrying about that. Amara is a spitfire. A mama bear to the kids she’s had to raise that aren’t even her own children. Not only that: she’s carrying my child. God only knows what she’d do if she thought they were in danger.
Which is why I am going to casually and quietly get guys out there to shut down whoever is watching Bella and Gianni and Eliza. Because at this point, they’re my family too.
Ty ne trakhayesh’sya s sem’yey.
You don’t fuck with family.
But there is still one loose piece roaming the chessboard. One that I can’t see and therefore can’t predict. And that is never okay with me.
I pull out my phone and hit Maverick’s number.
“What’s up, boss?” he answers on the first ring. Though I can hear the clanging of metal as he grunts. He’s head down in a car engine.
“I need help finding a guy.”
“What kind of guy?” he grunts.
“One that’s been seeing Amara’s best friend,” I tell him.
“You mean the one who always uses her tits to pay for drinks?” he asks with a grin in his tone.
“Yeah.” I clench my jaw. “That one.”
“I thought you didn’t like that chick,” he says with another crank of metal.
“I don’t.”
“Then why bother? Chances are she’s already moved on to her next lowlife. These kinds of things weed themselves out.”
I wipe my hand over my mouth and shove up from my seat. Then I turn and face the window overlooking the city. “The thing is… she’s been with this one for a while now. All Amara knows about him is he’s got money and likes to use it to keep her on the hook.”
“What’s he look like? I’ll have one of the boys wait for him after a date. I’m sure we can run him off if it’ll put Amara at ease.”
“Don’t know. Amara says he’s a ghost.”
“Hmm.” I hear a beer bottle twist open. “Name?”
“Sean,” I answer.
“Last name? Come on, brother, I’ve been cranking on a carburetor for the past two hours. The last thing I feel like doing right now is pulling teeth to get answers about a guy you want me to put on New York City’s missing persons wall.”
“If I knew his last name, I’d already be washing my hands,” I growl. “But I don’t. And I don’t have time to go looking for him either. I want—”
My phone starts to buzz. I pull it away from my ear.
Jenica is calling.
Fuck. I want to ignore it, but I’ve been married to her long enough to know that it’s less of a pain in the ass not to.
“Listen, I’ll call you back,” I tell him.
“And in the meantime?” he asks.
“Just… Don’t worry about it yet. I’ll figure it out.”
I end the call and accept the other.
“Yeah?” I sink back into my chair, because I’m suddenly finding myself exhausted. And it’s only eight in the morning.
“Well, hello to you too, husband,” she mutters into the phone.
“What do you need?”
“That’s it?” she presses. “No, how are you? Are you okay? I miss you too?”
“I am at work,” I tell her, enunciating every word. “And you know I don’t like being interrupted at work.”
“Fine then,” she snips. “I wanted to ask if you have any burgundy shirts you can wear to the party.”
“What party?”
“The Beamont?” she asks, clearly annoyed. That’s makes two of us, because I don’t have a clue what she’s fucking talking about.
“Jesus, Ransome. Do I know your schedule better than you? There’s a party at the Beaumont hotel tonight. With Silverstreak or whatever they’re called.”
“Silverline,” I correct her as I pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s right. There is a party tonight with a manufacturing company that provides materials for the drill bits our sites use.
“Whatever,” she says. “All I know is that I am wearing a silver sequined dress. It’ll look good considering we are having dinner with men who sell diamonds.”
My eyes nearly roll to the back of my head. “They don’t sell diamonds,” I correct her. Meanwhile the headache forming behind my eyes is on the verge of raging.
“But they’re a diamond company,” she says.
“Diamond is used for drill bit cutters,” I start in, and then realize the futility of this conversation. “I’m not wearing burgundy. I’ll have my black suit pressed.”
“It will look dull,” she snaps. “Do you really want to look flat in front of men who sell diamonds?”
I ball my fist and then bite my tongue, hard enough that my mouth tangs with the taste of copper. “They don’t… forget it. Did you really call me to ask about what I’m wearing to a business party?”
“Actually, I called to make sure that this party doesn’t go like the last one,” she says.
“And what exactly do you mean by that?”
“I know this one is just a requirement of your day job and nothing I actually care about. But there will be a lot of important people there. Which means a lot of eyes on us. Which means I’m going to need you to act like we are actually married.”
“What difference does it make?” I ask. “We’re going together. You’ll be within an arm’s length of me at all times. We kiss, I put arm around you. I know the drill, Jenica.”
“The drill,” she clicks her tongue. “So romantic.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” I snap. “You act like you don’t know why we got married.”
“And you act like we aren’t married at all!” she shouts.
I’m about to throw my phone at the wall, but I know that’ll only piss her off more. And right now, I can’t deal with that. “We’ll take a couple photos together,” I say through my teeth. “Would that make you happy? Keep your image intact?”
“What would make me happy,” she starts in, “is if there were no distractions at this dinner.”
“What do you mean by that?” I ask. I don’t like where this is going. Hell, I don’t like where it started.
“Oh please. I’m not stupid, Ransome. This is an Apex party. And anything that has Apex on the name requires your immediate staff. Meaning, that little tramp you have shacked up at the other estate.”
I suck my teeth for a moment. I’m not going to lie. Amara’s re-hire at Apex actually slipped my mind for a minute. Not that she has slipped my mind. In that dress, with those lips, that would be impossible.
“I’ll take your silence as a confirmation of her RSVP,” she says with a bitter smile. I can hear it in her tone. “I knew it. You just can’t go anywhere without her, can you?”
“She’s my personal assistant,” I tell her. “And this is an Apex business dinner.”
“And I’m your wife. One might be more important in the office, but don’t forget who is more important in your personal life. Not to mention for your sem’ya.”
“Don’t worry.” I lace the same tone she’s been using around my words and toss them back at her. “I haven’t forgotten anything.”
I end the call and shove my phone back in my pocket. She may be my wife, and that may be part of a truce that is keeping at least some of the peace between the Rozanovs and the Chadovichs, but tossing the word family in my face is a pretty bold move.
Especially since the woman she is threatening happens to be carrying the deepest bloodline of them all.