Chapter 10 White Roses
White Roses
Anton:
Terror tastes like copper and gunpowder.
Not the clean fear of a mission gone wrong.
It's an almost paralyzing knowledge that Fee has been dancing with death.
My brilliant, beautiful woman walked straight into the lion's den with nothing but her intelligence and a laptop, hunting for answers I couldn't give her. And now that lion is hunting her back.
The phone feels like lead in my hand. "Do we know who this is?"
"Not yet, but I should have something within the hour." Yuri pauses. "Ms. Quinn was looking into Judge Morrison. She's pretty good, if I do say so myself." Yuri's voice carries something I rarely hear from him. Respect.
"How good?"
"Good enough to impress me. She closed her loops, covered her tracks better than most professionals I've seen." Another pause. "But I would have caught the subtle digital fingerprints she left behind. The kind only someone very good would notice."
Yuri doesn't get impressed easily. He is the ghost who slips through digital locks like smoke, who turned the Basov security system inside out before they hired us instead of hunting us.
"Get Dominic and Alexei here. The others are already positioned around the building. You and I are going hunting."
"About time." The satisfaction in Yuri's voice would be comforting if I weren't calculating how many ways this could go wrong.
"Are you going to tell her?"
"Yes. I have to, when we know more."
"Anton, she won't want to stay away from this, I don't think."
"Which is why you'll need to teach her more. If she's going to be in the game, she needs to be better than good. She needs to be invisible."
"Understood."
"Call when you get here. I'll meet you downstairs and bring the laptop."
I end the call and stand there, in my kitchen, staring at the phone like it might explode.
I walk back and I stand in the doorway of my bedroom, and everything stops. She fell asleep waiting for me. Her hair spills across my pillow like dark silk. She's in one of my black T-shirts, which drowns her small frame.
One look and I'm gone. Completely, irrevocably ruined. She's claimed my entire world without even trying.
In a perfect world, I'd slide back into that bed, pull her against me, and spend all day with her, ordering whatever she wanted to eat, staying with her through the night, giving her the perfect first morning after.
I would give her all the tenderness she deserves after trusting me with something so precious.
Instead, I have to leave her. Again.
I move to the bed. The mattress dips as I settle behind her, my body curving around her. At six-foot-four, I tower over her five-foot-two, and lying like this, she fits perfectly against me like she was designed to be held by my hands.
My arm slides around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. The moment my skin touches hers through the thin cotton, fire races through my veins. My body responds instantly, wanting her again.
But she needs time. Needs gentleness.
I press my lips to the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with something that's purely Fee. She stirs slightly, making a soft sound that goes straight to my chest.
"Solnishko," I whisper against her hair.
Her breathing stays even. Deep. Peaceful.
My thumb traces small circles against her hip through the soft cotton. She makes that little sound again, softer this time, and burrows deeper into my warmth.
I brush her hair aside and press soft kisses to the back of her neck, tasting the faint salt of her skin. She stirs against me, a sleepy sound escaping her lips.
"Anton." Her voice comes out husky with sleep.
"I'm here, Solnishko." I keep kissing that spot where her neck meets her shoulder, the one that made her arch beneath me.
She turns in my arms, green eyes still heavy with sleep, and the trust I see in them nearly breaks me. Her small hand finds my chest, fingers tracing the tattoos that map my violent history.
I catch her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing her palm. "Fee, I have to go."
Her eyes sharpen, sleep disappearing. "Go where?"
"Yuri found something that I need to investigate." I hate the way her face changes, how the soft contentment fades into wariness. "There's nothing in this world I want more than to stay right here with you. To spend the day in this bed, learning everything that makes you smile."
She sits up, my shirt sliding off one shoulder. "But you can't, I understand."
"Not yet." I reach for her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone.
Fear flickers across her features, but she doesn't pull away. "How long will you be gone?"
"A few hours."
When all this is over, I'm going to give her that perfect night. The one she deserves. Dinner somewhere beautiful, dancing if she wants it. For now, I'll have to find the most beautiful and rare gift for her to remember today.
I'd planned to question Shane tonight, but Connor requested an urgent meeting instead. The tone in his voice suggested complications.
The Sovereign Room sits beneath one of the Pakhan's galleries, Thane Art Traders, like a secret kingdom carved from mahogany and shadows.
This is where we conduct business that requires absolute discretion, where handshake deals worth millions happen over aged whiskey, and no recording device has ever penetrated.
Yuri and I descend the private staircase, the exclusive lounge serving as neutral ground where business continues regardless of whose blood was spilled yesterday.
The door opens. Crystal decanters catch strategic lighting, creating patterns that dance across faces while keeping identities safely obscured. Connor Quinn sits at a corner table with Patrick beside him.
Both men rise as we enter; the old courtesies persist even when discussing violence.
"Baev." Connor extends his hand. "Appreciate you coming so quickly."
"Connor. Patrick." I shake their hands. "You said it was urgent."
A hostess guides us through the gambling floor into a private room, dark wood, leather seating, soundproof walls.
We take our seats. Connor and Patrick on one side, Yuri and I across from them.
Connor doesn't waste time. "We received word this morning. Couldn't risk sharing details over any line. Too many ears in our business."
I lean back, studying both men. "What kind of word?"
"The kind that changes everything we thought we knew about Morrison." Connor leans forward. "The old bastard got himself into something deeper than gambling debts."
Yuri opens his laptop beside me, fingers already moving across keys with surgical precision. The blue glow reflects off his face as data streams across the screen.
"Morrison hired what he thought was a professional assassin.
" Connor's voice drops. "Wanted to eliminate some people he owed money to.
Substantial gambling debts that were about to destroy him.
But what Morrison didn't know was that he was dealing with the people he was trying to get killed.
These people created an entire persona, complete background, references. "
"So what did Shane see at the tailor shop?" I ask.
"It was Morrison getting snatched before he could walk inside."
My fingers press into my palms. "Then why go after Shane and Fee? Why shoot up the boutique?"
"The hired muscle overreacted," Connor replies. "They were supposed to create a distraction while their primary target was handled."
Connor's green eyes meet mine, holding steady despite the gravity of his words. "The debtors themselves called and said that the job's done. We weren't supposed to be part of it. They're offering payment and whatever's needed to keep the peace."
Yuri's fingers pause over his keyboard. "Three million dollars just appeared in an escrow account."
Three million isn't enough to cover a war between families. It's an apology, not blood money.
I've seen plenty of desperate men make stupid choices, but I need to know exactly what he brought into Fee's orbit. "What did Morrison owe that made him so reckless?"
"Millions in gambling debts," Patrick says. "Plus blackmail material about his sexual appetites."
Yuri looks up from his screen. "I just tried accessing HeartSync again. The entire platform is gone. Scrubbed clean."
"After almost killing Fee and your men, these people are offering peace and paying for damages, and you're just okay with this?" I ask.
Connor's eyes stay solid. "They also noticed Fiona hacked into their system."
Patrick leans in more. "They're willing to meet with us, in our territory, under our conditions. That's not the behavior of people planning more violence."
"And once this is resolved, my daughter comes home." Connor's tone carries the tone of finality.
I study both Quinns across the mahogany table. Connor maintains that steady green-eyed stare Fee inherited, though hers burns brighter.
"With respect, Connor, Fee stays where she is until I've personally verified every aspect of this peace agreement. You're accepting their word, but I need more than that before I let my guard down."
"Your guard down?" Patrick's tone sharpens. "She's not your responsibility, Baev."
"She became my responsibility the moment someone tried to kill her on my watch." I lean forward slightly. "I'm not questioning your judgment. I'm saying I need to complete my own assessment before any changes are made to her security situation."
Connor's jaw tightens, but he nods slowly. "Baev, understand, when this is cleared, she comes home. That's not negotiable."
Starting a war with her family won't protect her. These men love Fee in their own way.
"We'll be in touch within twenty-four hours." Connor stands, extending his hand.
The ritual of business concludes with handshakes and measured nods. But as we climb back to street level, something cold settles in my chest.
"You don't trust it," Yuri says.
"I don't trust anything that comes gift-wrapped."
The elevator opens into my foyer. The last traces of twilight fade beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, darkness claiming the skyline.
Then I see them.
White roses. Two dozen perfect blooms arranged in crystal, sitting on my dining table like ghosts made flesh.
My feet turn to concrete. The air thins in my lungs.
Fee sits at the table. She's changed into jeans and a soft blouse. Her head is turned away from me, gaze fixed on the darkened city beyond the windows. Both hands rest in her lap, holding something I can't see.
Her shoulders are too still—the kind of stillness that comes from holding your breath, from trying not to break.
"I'm sorry." Her voice comes out carefully controlled. She still won't look at me. "I opened the card thinking they were for me."
The words hit like a blow to my chest.
Of course she would think that. Any woman would expect flowers after what we shared, after I took something precious she can never give again.
She gestures toward the roses with forced casualness. "One of your guards just brought them up, like not even five minutes ago."
The standing order that delivered white roses every two weeks, just as Katya loved.
"Fee."
She finally turns to face me, extending the card. When I don't immediately take it, she sets it on the table between us like it burns her fingers.
"You don't have to explain. I understand."
But she doesn't. And the careful way she's holding herself together makes everything worse.
I pick up the card. Elegant script I recognize but haven't seen in months.
To Katya, the love of my life. Until we meet again. – A
Fee is still seated at the table, her crutches leaning against the chair like silent witnesses. She lifts her chin, eyes locking on mine, and her voice cuts clean.
"My favorite flowers aren't roses. They're peonies. And lilies. White. So next time I'll know which ones are meant for me."
She grips the crutches and pushes herself up with deliberate grace, like every movement is a declaration that she won't stay small. I close the distance before she can move away, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her against me.
"I canceled that standing order five months ago." I bend close, my mouth brushing her temple. "And there won't be another flower that isn't yours. I'll fill this penthouse with peonies and lilies. Every room, every corner. Until you never doubt again what belongs to you."
Her breath ghosts warm against my jaw, fingers sliding up to touch the ink scrawled across my throat, then higher, tracing my jawline with a slow, devastating stroke. My blood heats instantly.
I think I've won her back at this moment. That maybe the roses haven't buried me under.
Then she smiles softly. "You're going to have to send them to Providence."
"Providence?"
She nods, her green eyes cutting straight through me. "I'm going with my sister."