Chapter 8
LEV
Isit on the edge of my bed, watching her sleep. She was exhausted after what we did in the dining room, so I gave her my shirt and brought her here to rest. Now she’s on her side with one hand near her mouth, my shirt loose on her shoulders. I should call the driver and send her home.
But I don’t.
I sit there longer than I should. The smart move is to keep my distance and keep the boundary clear. I’ve already broken a rule by sleeping with her twice. The least I can do is keep this all about sex and nothing more. If that were true, though, I wouldn’t be watching her sleep. Again.
I force myself up and take a lap around the mansion.
I don’t turn on any lights. I know every turn here.
I stop by the control room and see the cameras green and the gate logs clean.
Two guards are on the ridge, while one patrols the perimeter.
Everything is completely normal. It does nothing to settle me.
My cell buzzes in my pocket, and I answer without checking the screen. Anyone calling this late has something important to tell me.
“Boss,” Thom, one of my soldiers, says, his voice serious. “The front room of our Delancey club was hit. The camera feed was cut for a full ninety seconds. They got the chips from the table, but didn’t make it to the safe before we got them.”
“Did our guys suffer any injuries?”
“Two got cut, but nothing deep. The bartender took a bottle to the head, but no civilians were hurt. We closed the room fast.”
The Delancey is one of our best money-laundering fronts. It functions as a casino, so all of our payouts are washed bills. It’s our biggest cash cow.
“Who sent them?”
“It’s hard to say. They aren’t talking. What do you want us to do with them?”
I know what my father would say. He’d order their deaths without hesitation. Hell, he’d probably send our guys after their families just to send a message. That’s never been me. I ask questions first and shoot later. But this unease isn’t going away.
Mari is asleep in my room, and I don’t do this. I’m not the guy who brings a girl home. I’m definitely not the guy who lets her stay. I can’t get any of this to settle in my chest, and it seriously pisses me off. I feel more out of control than I’ve ever been. I have to take back some control.
“Kill them,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “Dump them somewhere that makes a statement.”
I justify the decision in my head immediately. We can always find out who these clowns are and get the information we need. But if I don’t punish them right away, I’ll leave myself open and vulnerable to other attacks.
“Copy,” he confirms. “All of them?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately.
“We could use a name.” He tries again. “Kill one and see if it pressures the others into talking.”
“If I wanted your fucking advice, I would have asked,” I snap. “Kill them all and don’t question me again.”
There’s a short silence on the phone, and then I hear him spring into action. “You got it, boss,” he says.
“Get rid of any footage,” I tell him. “I don’t want any record of this. Make sure the bartender gets stitches from our doctor, and have our guys turn the place over tonight. I want it back up and running in no more than twenty-four hours.”
“We’re on it,” he says dutifully before hanging up.
I take a deep breath and pad down to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water but don’t drink it.
I text Yuri.
Delancey’s been hit. I need you to get down there and oversee the cleanup.
He replies immediately.
On it. We’ll get eyes on the situation and find out who ordered the attack.
I slip my phone back in my pocket and carry the water to my study. There will be fallout from this. I need to get ahead of it before we’re hit again. Whoever did this needs to pay immediately.
I push all my feelings away and focus only on facts.
Someone is trying to send me a message. Two hundred thousand dollars is missing from my books.
Somebody hit my most profitable club. There’s a rat somewhere in Levcon, and I’m not convinced it’s a different person than the one messing with my Bratva.
If they have this much inside information, they’ll know that Mari is looking into the books. They’ll know that I’m on the lookout for them, which might be why they hit the club. Mari could be in danger.
She knows way too much. What the hell am I going to do with her? I could keep her safe, lock her away and make sure that no one can ever get to her. I could keep my men tailing her at all times, but that’s no guarantee that she’ll stay safe.
There’s a quiet knock on the partly open door, and then I see her standing there, still in my shirt.
“I should probably go,” she says, though there’s no conviction behind her words. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You can stay,” I say automatically, surprising myself again with how out of character this is for me.
“Are you okay?” she asks, taking a tentative step into the room.
She looks so much more vulnerable like this. She’s no longer the angry, fiery woman who came into my office throwing accusations. She’s softer. More fragile.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, picking up my glass and taking a sip. We’re standing at the edge of a precipice, and one of us has to make a decision. Might as well be me. “You should stay.”
I lift an arm without thinking, inviting her into something I don’t quite understand myself.
She crosses the room and slides onto my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Warmth hits me through cotton. My chest tightens.
She studies my face like I’ve seen her studying her ledgers. She’s trying to read what’s wrong, despite my assurance that everything is fine. I should know better. There isn’t a problem she won’t solve. I set a palm to her waist to anchor both of us.
I could decide to keep her as close as possible. I could take her off any projects that could land her in more danger or make her ask more questions. I could request an internal audit that keeps her behind closed doors for weeks and away from anyone else.
She’s far too inquisitive to stay safe. I know it. This could only work if I gave her personal security and assigned her a driver.
She rests her forearms on my shoulders and waits. The moment comes and goes when I could ask her to leave. I don’t. Her eyes hold the same question she doesn’t seem to want to ask again.
“I’m fine,” I tell her, more firmly.
She nods once and reaches up to cup my face. She tilts her mouth to mine and kisses me slowly. It isn’t heat and desperation. It’s sweeter, more languid. Exactly the kind of kissing I never do.
I think about the call I took and the order I gave.
If I push her out of the company, my weakness will be exposed and vulnerable, and she will have no idea exactly how much danger she’s in. If I keep her with me, I’ll always be sure that she’s breathing. The math shakes out no matter how long I stare at it.
I’m struck again by just how strong she is. She doesn’t have to be brave, but she chooses to be. She doesn’t need me, but she wants me. And I’m losing my mind trying to pretend that I don’t want her with every fiber of my being.
So, I stand up and follow her back to my room.