Chapter 11 A Tasteful Gift
A Tasteful Gift
Mikko
Aknock on the clear pane of glass leading to Mikko’s office startled him as his eyes caught sight of blond hair and a pressed blue shirt.
Glancing up, the stray strands from his relentless hair pulling tickled his forehead.
While it was a little after noon, it’d been a rollercoaster of a morning.
Despite multiple deals falling through, his mind still lingered on Anika, and the way he drove past her house two nights before.
His curiosity had gotten the better of him, the thought of her skin on display on a constant loop in his mind.
Waving Levi in, he hoped the other man would have information he secretly wanted.
“How’d it go?” Mikko asked. “Were you able to get the client to commit to the property?”
Sinking into the couch, Levi sighed. “It went well. She was really interested in the space, even called me as you know.” Something akin to jealousy crawled up the back of Mikko’s throat as the other man continued. “Despite the amount of work it needs, she doesn’t seem deterred.”
“And the listing price? Is she agreeable to that?”
“Mostly,” Levi fidgeted with his cuff, a tell of his, “but I’m thinking that might be her only reservation.”
“Convince her otherwise.” The words hurt leaving his mouth, but he donned his CEO persona so Levi wouldn’t think twice about the rhythmic tapping Mikko was doing against the top of his desk. One of his tells.
“I’ll see what I can do. She has all my personal information, so I’m hoping that eliminates any barriers.”
Unable to stop himself, Mikko retorted, “Perfect. It’s a good sign the client can see the potential in things.”
Levi chuckled. “Y’know, I think she said something similar, but it seems like a good fit for her.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“What’s she planning?”
“She started a small, leather goods business, and now that it’s growing, she needs more space, material, and people.
” Mikko nodded, moving his hands to his lap.
He clasped them tightly to keep his fiddling to a minimum.
Levi couldn’t see they were white. He hadn’t known about this little tidbit.
“She gave me her business card…well, for her day job since the leather business is a hobby right now.”
As if needed to prove his victory, Levi fished the small rectangle of paper from his pocket, flipping it over his fingers as his other arm stretched out over the back of the couch.
Why does it feel like he’s gloating?
Mikko was losing it, his mind largely dramatic with any and all things to do with her. It was nothing; he was reading into Levi’s actions. “I’m assuming it has all her info on there for you to follow back up if phone calls don’t cut it?”
“Yep, although I’m already planning a dinner event, and she’s at the top of the invite list.” His teeth flashed, his grin mischievous. It irked Mikko.
“Wonderful, clients like to feel special,” Mikko bit out, the words containing a double meaning in his own mind.
“Of course,” Levi looked at her card one more time before pocketing it. “While most of our transactions are discrete for legalities, I still remember how to be a true realtor.”
“That’s why you always were my favorite—a quick learner.” The lie burned Mikko’s tongue.
“Gotta earn my keep around here someway, boss.” The use of boss made Mikko cringe. “Regardless, she appears to be a harmless woman to do business with. I could see the brightness in her eyes at the idea of expanding her business and making it into something of her own.”
Mikko knew Anika was far from harmless, but kept his thoughts to himself. Aloud he said, “That’s what this business is all about: making dreams come true.”
“In more ways than one.”
Levi stood, walking over to the wet bar along the wall, his fingers running over the glass decanters.
Mikko wanted to scold him, to tell him to stop touching his stuff and to get out.
He got the information he wanted—all of it damn near worthless—but he kept calm.
Leaning back in his chair, he watched his employee peruse the untouched alcohol selection.
“Is this one new?” Levi asked suddenly, his hand halting near a bottle Mikko couldn’t see clearly from his vantage point.
“I hardly pay attention,” Mikko replied. “Which one is it?”
“This one.” Holding up a dark amber bottle, its neck long and slender, he let Mikko take a look at it. “I don’t remember it being in here last time I was in your office.”
“You sneak in here often?”
Levi grinned and set the bottle back down. “Maybe.”
His own curiosity winning out over his annoyance, Mikko stood and met Levi at the small bar. Sure enough, the bottle’s color and silhouette was out of place among the rest of his collection. While he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t touch these, his memories served him well.
This one was new.
And its label indicated it was tequila. His mind wandered to one person specifically.
“I’ll have to ask Emma if someone sent it while I was away,” Mikko said.
“Secret admirer maybe?”
Mikko’s heart stuttered. “If you think all the gruff ass men we work with are romantic types, sure.”
Levi laughed, “You got me there. Well, that was all I needed. I’ll be in touch with both you and Anika in hopes of closing out that sale.”
Nodding, Mikko kept his eyes on the bottle as Levi walked out. Slipping his phone from his pocket when he was alone once more, he dialed Emma’s direct line.
“What can I do for you Mr. Romanov?” she inquired after the second ring.
Cocking his head at the amber glass, he asked, “Did someone deliver a nice bottle of alcohol here for me?”
“Oh, yes! I forgot to tell you since you were busy with meetings all morning, but a local delivery service stopped by with it earlier. They told me it was for you and there was a note attached explaining the sender’s gratitude.
” She shuffled papers around on her desk before she spoke again.
“I didn’t read it since it was a sealed note, but it’s on your desk.
Top corner under the base of your desk lamp. ”
“Thank you, Emma.”
“Of course. Hope it’s from a pleased client, you deserve the recognition.”
“One can only hope.”
After she updated him on another upcoming meeting, they hung up. His feet already carried him to the corner of his desk, her directions succinct and stirring his anxiety.
He tried to think back through all the deals he’d closed the past few weeks, but nothing came to mind. At least none warranting an expensive bottle of liquor to appear with a note.
His calloused fingers pulled the stiff cardstock from under the lamp, the seal untouched. Ripping into it, his patience was nearly gone as his thoughts of Anika resurfaced while he read the typed words on the thick paper.
Pleasure doing business with you. Although if we’re to work together, I fear you’ll need to refine your palate…
Mikko scoffed, his mind flashing back to similar words falling from her plush lips a week ago. But there was more:
Also, maybe this will loosen you up, gods know you need it
Well, he’d be damned. Even if it wasn’t signed by her, he knew it was Anika’s doing. The letter’s wording reeked of her humor and smugness. The timing of it was too perfect; his refusal of showing her the property himself and Levi swearing he was closing in on the deal at the forefront of his mind.
And Mikko would be lying if he said her words didn’t make him smile.
Maybe it was time for him to refine his palette—time for him to dip his tongue into something a bit more…fiery.
* * *
MIKKO INSERTED HIS key into the lock. His penthouse front door was the last barrier standing in his way to solace after a long day.
A weird feeling had been needling him all afternoon ever since Levi had damn near gloated about his time with Anika at the industrial property.
It was stupid and silly, and if it were any other client, he wouldn’t care, but this time it irritated him.
Turning it, he waited to hear the telltale click of the mechanism springing free, but…
Nothing.
Twisting it again, the sound he was searching for came. That was when he realized his front door was unlocked, and he’d just locked it.
Fury along with adrenaline bubbled in his veins. After everything, he’d wanted to come home and slip into bed—clothes and shoes still on if he was really lazy, but someone else had a different idea.
Unlocking the door, Mikko quickly pocketed the keys and withdrew the gun he had concealed under his suit jacket. The hall outside his penthouse was empty, only one other person living on this floor. Besides, if anyone saw him, he could make them forget.
Nudging the door open, his eyes caught on the way the light from the hall spilled into the darkness inside.
Slipping through the opening once it was large enough for him to pass through, he let the door snick shut behind him.
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the shadows as his back pressed into the cool surface of the door.
If whoever had left his door unlocked was still inside, he’d make them wish they’d left before he got back.
The silhouettes of his furniture sharpened as the seconds passed, softly backlit by the skyline beyond. Light pollution stained the sky a dusty gray with a splash of warmth. Buildings glittered in the floor to ceiling windows lining his residence, and Mikko let them guide him as he continued on.
This unit had been designed to use as little walls as necessary so the view would be unhindered which also proved advantageous for sightlines. There were only a handful of places to hide since the closets and bathroom were the only rooms to have walls and doors.
Muscle memory steered him around the sharp edges of his kitchen island, charcoal finishes an endless void in the minimal lighting.
Before him, his couch cushions littered the floor along with papers that had been pulled out of drawers and left to decorate his space.
His furniture had shifted almost infinitesimally, but his keen eyes caught it.
Clearing the living room, his dress shoes padded noiselessly across the polished concrete floor and area rug all while missing the mess strewn about.
His night trained eyes snagged on the bathroom door—it was open, its maw yawning wider and beckoning him closer.
Gun trained straight ahead, finger hovering over the trigger, Mikko prepared for the worst—a bloodstain on his floors.
His penthouse was one place he tried to keep the violence out.
He had expensive furniture to protect after all.
Closing one eye, Mikko stepped into the room, flipping the light switch on quickly to stun anyone who may be lingering. The brightness made his one open eye squint, but he was greeted with nothing. The usual bathroom accessories met his eyes.
Leaving the light on and turning away from the small room, Mikko opened his closed eye. Since that one had maintained its night sight, his other one quickly adjusted back.
Wrapping the corner, colorful city lights illuminated his figure as he crept around his own damn apartment. Around every turn, he found nothing. No one lurked in the deepest shadows for him.
After he cleared his bedroom—finally determining no one was there—he walked around and turned on a few floor lamps. The warm glow was harsh, but welcome after the stress of expecting an intruder. It still didn’t erase the violating feeling blossoming in his chest.
Someone had been in here, in my space, and slipped out undetected.
Re-holstering his gun, Mikko strode back to his kitchen.
The cool feeling of his glass decanters underneath his fingertips comforting.
A portion of his kitchen had been converted to storing liquor, just as one might designate a coffee area.
Letting his mood guide him, each bottle more extravagant than the last, he finally settled on a bourbon.
A deviation from his usual drink of choice, but he was feeling agitated.
Forgoing ice, Mikko poured two fingers into a crystal tumbler. The color reminded him of Anika’s eyes. His annoyance flare brighter.
The first sip burned.
The second one warmed.
And the third loosened the tension between his shoulder blades.
With his glass hanging from his fingertips precariously, Mikko sat at his desk, content to check his security cameras now that he knew no one was lurking around. His system was robust and nothing would be able to get past his surveillance.
Paranoia had its perks.
After combing through the last couple hours on the digital footage, Mikko deigned no one had been inside his penthouse. Which was impossible. There was physical evidence of someone touching his things, so had they tampered with his security cameras?
Abruptly standing, Mikko shuffled around his residence, searching for anything that could be missing. He was feeling slightly tipsy, the amber hued liquid on an empty stomach making him sloppy as he ran through his mental catalog.
Nothing appeared to be amiss besides the disarray left behind.
With his thoughts hazy, he remembered one last place to check: the small dish near his front door. In his haste to clear the space, he’d forgone checking to make sure his spare keys were there, but now a sinking feeling unfurled in his gut.
Creeping closer, he blinked rapidly, his eyesight blurry, but there was no denying it.
His keys were missing along with a piece of his mom: a locket with her photo in it.
His molars squeaked as they clenched together; there would be hell to pay when he found out who did this.