Chapter 23 Framed Views #2
“I know you’re busy with Ivan’s murder, but I have a favor to call in. I may have a lead and need someone with a bit more tech skills to chase it down,” Mikko said.
“I know of someone.”
“Are they trustworthy?”
Devon scoffed. “They have to be to work with me.”
“Good point. How fast do they work?” Mikko checked his side mirror before pulling out into the streets. It was getting late and most were heading home in preparation for the workday tomorrow. Mikko had other plans.
“She works pretty fast, but a larger payment upfront could mean same day return on info,” Devon responded before a door closed softly in the background. “Up to you.”
Mikko’s brow rose. “Can she get me something in two business days?”
“Of course. I’ll send you her bank information and you can wire the amount over.”
Mikko shifted lanes, his muscle memory taking him across town. “How much will it be?”
“I don’t know, she doesn’t post her prices up, just tells you what she wants.” The man on the other end typed something out, his keyboard clacking faintly. “But whatever you do, don’t question her. She’s great at what she does and doesn’t like to continuously prove it.”
“Got it.” His phone buzzed with a notification.
“Tell her I sent you.”
“Will she cut me a better deal?’
Devon laughed. “No, but she won’t immediately turn you away.”
“Great,” Mikko drawled before hanging up.
And there, in the text message Devon had sent him, was a name that felt a little too familiar.
Rebecca Graymore.
A woman he’d taken home for one night years ago when he thought the world revolved around him until he’d woken up to his valuables stolen and a message in lipstick on his bathroom mirror reading: thanks for the good fuck…and the $$$.
Needless to say he never saw her again—or his missing items—but now it made sense for her to be in this line of work. She had a knack for finding things. He shook his head with an exasperated laugh; the world really was too damn small for his tastes anymore.
* * *
AFTER REACHING OUT to Rebecca and sending her all the necessary information—he bet with Cristiano on if she’d remember him or his name—Mikko found himself driving along the highway.
He should’ve gone home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Instead, he let the road pacify his spiraling thoughts.
Highway sign after highway sign flashed in front of him, briefly illuminated in his headlights, before fading back into the night.
He wasn’t sure how long he drove for, but it didn’t matter. Driving always quieted his mind.
Until he realized where he’d subconsciously driven to. Anika’s neighborhood.
The tree-lined street welcomed him, the changing of the leaves yawning before his car as he parked nearby out of habit.
Maybe he’d known all this time that this was where he wanted to go, that this was where he’d end up.
While he waited for Rebecca to dig up details about Anika’s life, he might as well keep eyes on her himself.
Shutting his car off, he slipped from the leather interior, his movements nearly silent from practice.
Leaves barely crunched underfoot as he wove around the clusters of them with ease.
Mikko pulled his jacket closer as the wind tried to needle into his skin.
These days, as soon as night fell in Portland, the temperature dropped with it.
Making the walk up her sidewalk, he leapt over the short fence before slinking into the shadowed vegetation lining her house.
The scent of soil and foliage was a fragrance Mikko could get used to, and even though it was wrong to still be drawn to her, it reminded him of Anika.
Everything she stood for had his heart racing, his obsessive habits satiated as he watched her, learned her, and became someone she might like.
If an outsider asked, it was all in the name of Romanov Real Estate. But to him, it was more than that.
Maybe she can be my ticket out of here.
To his delight, a couple of her windows were aglow, flooding the dark lawn around her house.
It enticed him like the promise of a warm fire after enduring the cold for hours.
Mikko couldn’t help but imagine the heat from her skin, and could practically smell the lush, sugary notes that were wholly her.
Striding closer, he peered in all while risking his pale face reflecting in the illuminance.
He was curious, even if it was a bad idea.
A glass of wine was clutched in her hands, fingernails glinting in the light with her legs crossed and looking across the room at something.
Her hair was pulled up and away from her face messily, pieces of it still hanging free and tickling her cheeks, neck, and exposed back.
Anika’s tank top was loose and casual, a sight that made his stomach tighten.
The palm frond tattoos along her shoulder blades were on display as she sat sideways on her couch along with the floral pieces wrapping around each arm.
Mikko audibly swallowed.
The one on her spine was barely visible, only the first few words peeking out. Stepping out of sight, he quickly searched them up: Dulce int…sweet something.
It wasn’t enough to yield anything useful. With a sigh, he put his phone away and glanced around to make sure he was still alone. Only the chirp of crickets and the flutter of moth wings faintly echoed back to him. He let out a sigh.
But when his gaze landed back on Anika, he realized what she’d been looking at moments before. Or more so who.
Levi strode across her living room, a matching glass of wine in his own hand, his mouth moving all while Anika listened. Even now, that man couldn’t shut up. Mikko’s fist clenched inside his coat pocket involuntarily.
Watching as the man plopped down on Anika’s couch like he lived there, Mikko let unrestrained anger bubble up in the back of his throat. He’d ask Levi to keep an eye on Anika, not cozy up next to her in her own damn house.
This must be what Levi meant when he said he’d have to bend some rules…
A tired sigh whispered past his lips. It seemed the instructions hadn’t been clear enough for his dimwitted employee.
If he wanted something done right, he’d have to do it himself.
Let these escapades only serve as a distraction for Anika, but when she met Mikko again, he’d be demanding her compliance.
With clenched teeth, he resorted to watching every little touch and interaction and laugh Anika and Levi shared.
He should’ve gone home; he should’ve seen if Rebecca had any updates on Anika and her seemingly hidden past that would shed some light on a murder that should be front and center in Mikko’s head, but instead…
His feet were rooted to the soil as if he was another one of Anika’s plants—another one of her playthings she controlled.
It was sickening and fascinating. When he was the one that always had to make the calls, have the hard conversations, and discipline people, it felt nice to let someone else do it for a while.
A devious thought crossed his mind.
If Anika was the one behind Ivan’s murder, she had skills and talent he could use for himself—the company. It was a weak excuse to his brain, but maybe he could convince her and others of it. That way he could really keep an eye on her.
Among other things…
Movement out of the corner of his eye pulled him back to the present.
Levi had Anika pressed into his side, his arm slung across the back of her couch, fingertips intertwining with loose tendrils of her ebony hair.
His wine glass sat abandoned on her coffee table.
Levi tucked a stray piece of hair behind her face.
The motion had Mikko’s shoulders tensing, the exposed slope of her nose and edge of her jaw all places he wanted to explore himself.
With tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping—
Stop. Stop. Stop.
He shouldn’t be having these thoughts—these longings afflicting his mind all hours of the day. But that was what happened when he let himself go, when the curiosity he was so fond of morphed into unchecked obsession.
And with his status in the city of Portland, who was there to stop him?
What had originally begun as a quest for protection and vengeance had turned into this. He’d been sucked into her orbit, strung along while he watched everyone else engage with her the way he wanted to.
He wanted to get to know her.
He yearned to touch her hair like Levi had, wrapping the strands around his fist.
He longed to know more about the mind she kept sheltered behind honeyed eyes and a soft, knowing smile.
But instead, he was here, swallowed up in the surrounding darkness.
He’d told himself this would be enough—seeing her from afar, collecting pieces of her to use for examination and motive—but he was realizing that wasn’t true. He needed to be closer, his stomach in knots as he loitered outside her house.
“And that’s how mistakes are made, son. When emotions guide you, you’ll always be led astray.” Mikko shook his head, trying desperately to clear his father’s incessant voice echoing there. His father was dead. He wasn’t like Alek.
With a fist pressed into the wood siding of her house, Mikko watched as Levi took her empty wine glass and set it on a coffee table next to his.
A lilting laugh from Anika had his eyes zeroing in on her, cataloging what could’ve elicited that reaction from her so he could do it himself.
Levi’s lips were pressed against her neck, the soft kisses tickling her sensitive skin.
Despite the envy flowing through his veins, Mikko’s cock hardened with the promise of seeing her get off. The sheer curtains were pushed aside letting just anyone look in, so he wasn’t really in the wrong. Was he?
Alek always made sure to know his enemy before swooping in for the kill. Those skills had damn near been bred into Mikko, so he would use them to his advantage now. Being a voyeur never hurt anyone…right?
Suddenly, he remembered the words she’d texted him a couple nights ago: that’s exactly something a cuck would say.
Guess she was right about that.
Her tanned skin glowed in the lamplight, making his mouth water as he palmed his erection through his pants.
Curse this carnal hunger.
The thin panes of glass did little to disguise the sounds of Anika’s breathless gasps and Levi’s hums of satisfaction as their playful moment turned more intense.
The soft sweep of Anika’s hair falling out of its bun at Levi’s deft hands and the sight of his mouth on hers happened right before he pushed her back onto her couch.
The slope of Levi’s back was strong while he held himself over Anika.
Her dark hair was splayed out around her face.
The contours and shadows from the nearby lamps accentuated her figure, and her ragged breaths made Mikko’s own chest ache.
Levi was kissing his way up Anika’s stomach, taking his time, her back arching into his mouth.
Blood rushed in Mikko’s ears, the outside world fading away until it was the three of them. This was wrong. Irrational. Everything about this was unreasonable, but logic did nothing to quell whatever was simmering inside his rib cage. And behind his pant’s zipper.
Levi knelt between her bent legs, her leggings revealing the soft curve of her thigh. Fingertips brushed against heated skin and Mikko could only observe as Levi caressed her, evoking sounds of approval.
A growl built in Mikko’s throat.
He wanted to sink his teeth into her flesh, marking her as his. No one after him would be able to erase his possession of her.
Caught between the mesmerizing draw of her skin, her noises, and the revulsion he felt, he lost track of time. Agony made a home in his bones, terrorizing his thoughts, voices screaming at him.
The man captured her lips with his own once again, his own sounds of satisfaction mixing with hers as she writhed beneath him. Mikko hoped Anika wasn’t enjoying herself as much as she let on, that she was just following through with the motions.
Still, Mikko felt something snap when he thought about Anika and Levi being more than what they were right now—a fake set-up.
This obsession was out of control, and there was only one way to get it back. To rid himself of this disease.
With one last glance up at her window, he drank in the scene. Her manicured nails dug into the leather of her couch, surely leaving little crescent marks on the material. He wanted her to leave similar ones on his furniture. On his back, clawing until he bled for her.
The image of her scarf tossed across his car’s passenger seat had thoughts brewing inside his head.
He’d brought it with him for some odd reason, call it intuition, but now he was glad he had.
While he might not be able to have her right now, he did have something of hers that might take the edge off. For a moment.
With her silhouette burned into his mind, Mikko stalked back toward his Audi. His cock was hard, he was frustrated, and his mind was filled with sounds and perfect pictures of her to get him off. He could edit Levi out of his head easy enough for his own fantasies.
His car door thudded shut behind him. The inky depths from his tinted windows cloaked the motion of his hand straying over to Anika’s scarf, his fingers wrapping around the soft fibers.
More, more, more, a small voice whispered internally.
No one was there to see him bring it to his face, inhaling the fragrance still clinging to the fabric.
A groan reverberated from his throat as his other hand drifted down to his zipper, his cock hard and aching.
He hadn’t realized how much energy it’d taken to deny himself something so human, so primal.
One little touch, one little moment of weakness…
Hastily, he opened the glove box and rummaged through the items there until his hands landed on the ones he wanted: her Chapstick and lotion he’d taken while inside her house. Smearing the cherry flavored moisturizer over his lips he imagined it was her own kissing him.
He was fucking losing his grip on reality.
Hopefully, stroking himself to the thought of her might erase the ironclad grip she had on his mind.
At least that was what he told himself as his hand enveloped the hard and hot length of himself, the lotion smelling like Anika slickening his cock.
Knowing that she was a stone’s throw away made him delirious.
It was sick, he was sick, but the temptation was too great to ignore. Mikko deserved this small reprieve.
And with her scent stuffed into his nose and his hand—one he imagined was hers—on his cock, he teased himself into oblivion.