Chapter 14 Seven Years #2
Her hands tremble slightly against the counter. Irma's staring at the card like it's a death sentence. If I don't give her something normal to focus on, she'll have a heart attack. "I need white lilies."
Irma's expression shifts with relief. "Of course, Senor Baev. Whatever you need." Her shoulders drop as she writes down my order. "I'll need thirty minutes."
"I'll wait," I say
She disappears into the back room, where the real work happens. The cooler door opens and closes. Water runs. Scissors snip through stems with rhythmic precision.
Twenty-eight minutes later, Irma emerges carrying the perfect arrangement for my Solnishko. White lilies bloom tall and elegant, their petals still tight enough to last days.
"Beautiful work," I tell her.
Irma slides the arrangement into a specialized carrier, stabilizing the stems with wet foam wrapped in protective plastic. The whole thing fits into a white box designed to travel without damage.
I hand her five hundred-dollar bills.
"Senor, this is too much—"
"Keep it. And remember. Direct contact only from now on."
The carrier sits in the passenger seat during the drive back to the penthouse. At every stop and turn, I check to make sure nothing shifts.
I pull into the underground parking, finding my reserved spot near the private elevator. As I cut the engine, my thoughts drift to Fee waiting upstairs. This intense urge to drown in her presence is new territory for me.
I've felt love before. Felt obsession. Felt need. But this is different—deeper, more consuming. The anticipation of seeing her again after just a few hours apart is almost unbearable. What the fuck has she done to me?
I carefully lift the vase from its carrier. Viktor approaches from his post by the elevator, ever vigilant.
"Viktor." I nod toward the empty carrier still in the passenger seat. "Get that and toss it."
He moves immediately, retrieving it with efficient movements. "Anything else, sir?"
"Anything unfamiliar while I was out?" I scan the garage instinctively, searching for shadows that don't belong.
"Nothing to report." Viktor's voice remains level and professional. "All clear."
I nod once and walk toward the elevator. The need to get back to Fee, to eliminate all threats circling us, burns more intensely than any mission I've undertaken before. Every moment hunting these ghosts from my past is time I could be with her.
I want to finish this quickly, to find whoever is behind this and kill the motherfucker, so I can return to her without constantly having to leave.
The elevator rises, smooth and silent.
The penthouse door clicks shut behind me. Fee's perched at the kitchen island, her laptop open in front of her, hair twisted into some knot that's already coming loose. She's still wearing my shirt. God, I love the sight of her in it.
Her eyes lift from the screen and lock onto the flowers.
"Did you leave this morning to kill a florist?" She leans forward against the counter, green eyes bright with mischief. "Torture them into making this breathtaking arrangement?"
I move toward her like gravity has shifted in the room, my steps pulled in her direction by some force I've stopped trying to resist. It's becoming familiar, this inevitable draw toward her, like a bullet finding its target.
I can't help smiling. The kind of smile that's been showing up more since she carved herself into my life.
"No." I set the vase on the counter between us. "It wasn't the flower shop owner I tortured this morning."
Her lips part slightly.
Her gaze meets mine. I notice she's sitting at the edge of the stool, but not quite within reach. I walk around the counter and carefully reposition her stool, mindful of her crutch leaning nearby and her injured foot.
"How are the stitches today?" I ask, glancing down at her bandaged foot.
A slow smile spreads across her face. "Healing nicely, but missing being carried around." Her tone turns playful.
I get closer until I'm standing between her legs, my body just inches from hers.
I lean in, my lips almost grazing her ear.
"I can remedy that." My voice drops lower.
"I'll carry you wherever you want to go.
To bed. To the shower." I brush my fingers along her thigh and watch goosebumps form across her neck. "Against the wall."
Her breath catches slightly. I pull back, enjoying the effect I have on her, and turn the arrangement so she can see every angle. "White lilies, your favorite, as you've clearly stated."
Her fingers trace the elegant curve of a petal without touching.
"They represent beauty and elegance," I continue, watching her face.
"Seemed appropriate for a woman who looks like sin in my shirt.
" I touch the delicate pink blooms woven through the arrangement.
"Sweet peas. They mean delicate pleasure.
" Her gaze meets mine. I cup her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone.
"Seemed fitting after last night." My voice drops. "And what I'm planning for tonight."
Her fingers still rest against the white petals. Something shifts in her expression. The softness hardens into something sharper.
"You're assuming I'll be here tonight," she replies.
The words land quietly but firmly. My thumb stills against her cheekbone, reading the set of her jaw. The way her shoulders square.
I lower my hand from her face. My fingers find hers instead, wrapping around them.
"I want to be with my sister," she says, meeting my eyes directly. "But I also know this is bigger than that shipment you've been working on with my father."
My thumb traces the ridge of her knuckles. Small bones under soft skin. Hands that navigate code and conspiracy with equal skill.
"Morrison was framed." She says it like a fact, not a theory. "But I'm sure you might know that by now."
I focus completely on her words. I keep my grip steady on her hands, letting her feel my focus without interrupting.
"You guys might have looked through my laptop." Her chin lifts slightly. "But you didn't find the files I had on Morrison."
My thumbs keep tracing slow circles against her palms. Her intelligence never stops astounding me.
"Someone created a whole persona about him that doesn't exist," she informs. "He was framed to redirect attention.
" She leans forward against the counter.
Our joined hands rest between us. "This shipment that the Basovs and my family are expecting will either be redirected, bombed, or maybe whoever's orchestrating this wants to use it as a distraction. "
"Show me." I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. "Show me everything you found."
"You're not going to lecture me about staying out of it?"
"No." I lower her hand but don't release it. "But this is why you can't leave. Someone wanted to kidnap you, Solnishko. Not kill you. Kidnap you."
Her eyes widen slightly. "Me? Why me?"
"I don't know." The admission tastes bitter.
"But this is exactly why you need to stay with me.
Work with Yuri. He can teach you how to stay invisible when you're hunting for information.
" She studies my face, processing. "It sounds like you're building a scenario that might help Yuri and me understand what we're actually after.
" I cup her face again, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "That is, if you want to work with us?"
Her lips part. She blinks once.
"Are you asking me to work with you?" Something flickers in her green eyes. "You know my father will not be pleased with it."
"You're hacking anyway." I hold her gaze. "Your father hasn't stopped you yet. We knew you hacked into HeartSync, but we didn't find your files. Obviously, there's no stopping you. You're too good."
A smile curves her mouth. The kind that tells me she's about to surprise me.
"In the spirit of knowledge sharing..."
She reaches for her purse on the counter, digs through the main compartment, and pulls out a tampon.
I watch as her fingers twist the bottom, and a micro SD card slides free.
Laughter hits me, unexpected and genuine. The sound fills the kitchen, echoing off steel appliances and marble countertops. Real laughter. The kind that makes my chest ache from disuse.
"Well." I shake my head, still grinning. "The hackers we've worked with are men. They don't hide flash drives in tampons."
She sets the tiny card on the counter between us. Triumph lights her features.
I pull her closer, my hands settling on her hips.
Her hands rest against my chest. I feel her heartbeat through my shirt.
"Seems like maybe you can teach us a few things," I say, and her smile widens, a dimple appearing in her right cheek.
"You know what, I should be furious. You violated my privacy.
Went through my files without permission.
" She draws a breath. "But I'm not. Or I am, but I also feel.
.." She trails off, searching for words.
"Conflicted." Her gaze locks onto mine. "Angry that you invaded my space.
Glad that you care enough to check. It's a contradiction, like you. "
"When it comes to you, there are no contradictions in my mind or my heart."
My gaze drops to her soft, full lips. Her hand lifts, fingers tracing the line of my jaw. Her touch is feather-light, like she's learning my face through sensation alone.
"You're a hard man to read." Her thumb brushes my cheekbone. "That attracted me to you. The contradiction."
Her green eyes search mine, finding something I didn't know showed.
"You're this deadly force who brings me lilies," she adds. "The grump who's fun. The assassin who worships me like I'm sacred." Her fingers trail along my jaw. "Everything about you contradicts itself."
I catch her wrist gently and press my lips to her pulse point.
"There's no contradiction in my kisses."
I claim her mouth before she can respond.
I lean down as my hands slide to her waist, pulling her closer to the edge of the stool, bringing her body flush against mine.
Her legs naturally wrap around my hips as the kiss starts, controlled, deliberate.
My tongue traces the seam of her lips until she opens for me.
Then control fractures.
I pour everything into the kiss. Every truth I can't voice. Every fear that keeps me awake. Every desperate want that's carved itself into my chest since she walked into my life.
Her fingers thread and pull through my hair slightly. The small bite of pain grounds me, sharpens everything.
I want the sound she's brought into my silence. The thought drives deeper with each stroke of my tongue against hers.
I want to keep the sound of her laughter, her moans, her breathing, her steps.
My phone vibrates against my hip. I ignore it.
My hands slide up her back, fingers spreading wide as if I can somehow absorb her into my skin. Keep her safe inside my ribcage, where nothing can touch her.
She makes a sound against my mouth. Soft. Needy.
I want her to have no doubt. The words press against my teeth, trapped behind the kiss. No doubt about what I feel. What I want. What I'll do to keep her.
The fucking phone won't stop.
I pull back slightly, breathing hard. Her lips are red, pupils blown wide.
The phone vibrates again. Insistent.
"I should probably answer that."
My forehead drops to hers, but I don't step back from between her legs. One arm remains wrapped around her waist, keeping her body pressed against mine. I close my eyes, breathing her in. That sweet wine-and-flower scent, mixing with something sweeter.
I pull the phone from my pocket with my free hand, maintaining our connection, her warmth against my chest. Yuri's name lights the screen.
"Da."
"Found what was bothering me." Yuri's voice carries that edge it gets when pieces click into place. "Remember our first major hit working for the Basovs? Seven years ago?"
"Yeah, the gang trying to steal the shipment at the docks. Wouldn't back down, no matter how many warnings the Basovs sent."
"One of the soldiers had that sword tattooed on his skin.
Dimitri also found that some hits have been ordered by a group called the Volgograd Brotherhood.
He said they coordinate directly with clients who're willing to pay premium rates for international operations.
They're ghosts. Move between countries with legitimate business covers.
No digital footprints, no traceable communications. Just rumors."
Professional. Expensive. Untouchable.
"Someone connected to that job survived that night. If the Volgograd Brotherhood is involved, the game just stepped up," I say.
This isn't about Fee or the Quinns. This is about me.
Someone's hunting me. And they're using her to draw me out.
My arm tightens around her instinctively, my body tensing as the protective rage builds behind my ribs.
Whoever is behind this has made a fatal mistake.
They think targeting Fee is my weakness.
They don't understand they've just signed their own death warrant.