Chapter Fourteen
I had been unable to stop thinking about Aria and how she looked so gorgeous in that red dress at the gala. Each time I closed my eyes, she was all I saw in my head. The more I tried to focus on something else, the more I found myself drifting back to that event.
At this point, nothing she did surprised me anymore because the girl had proven countless times that she wasn’t someone to be underestimated.
In all sincerity, I hadn’t expected to run into her the other night. She wasn’t even on the list of the people I least expected to meet at the gala. And that’s why her presence almost caught me off guard.
For someone who had been closely monitoring her movements and schedules, I couldn’t understand how I missed her plans to show up at the Hargrove Annual Summit.
Speaking of hows—how’d she even manage to secure an invite?
That gathering was for specific individuals with specific skills in specific areas of corruption.
But as I said, nothing she had done, would do, or would do in the future would surprise me again. I admired her resilience, her spunk, and her inability to back down from an investigation.
Even after tampering with the files on her computer that I was certain would implicate me, fate still somehow found a way to put me right in the middle of what she was investigating.
The suspicion in her eyes when she spotted me in the hall almost disoriented me. However, that wasn’t my first time in a sticky situation. I’d signaled Yuri to wait after she began walking toward me.
He was already in motion, on his way to deliver a message to me. I couldn’t risk her seeing him around me because to her, I was Anton Vasylenko—an import consultant. She shouldn’t see a Bratva member reporting to me.
Did she know Yuri was a Bratva member? Probably not. But given how unpredictable she was, there was no telling if she would somehow recognize him as the man who scared Daniel Whitfield half to death at the café.
Too risky.
Yuri understood the message and stayed away.
I maintained a neutral expression, refusing to let my composure crack even a little. Yet, Aria still wasn’t convinced that this was a coincidence. The kind of questions she asked clearly indicated that she was starting to doubt who I said I was.
The more I tried to avoid her inquiries, the more she pressed on. Luckily for me, I’d rehearsed my lines and had all the right answers on the tip of my tongue.
It still wasn’t enough.
Aria didn’t believe a word I said—instead, my responses seemed to have stirred her curiosity.
The conversation wasn’t loud, nor was the back-and-forth heated. However, the accusation was clear as day. She didn’t say it to my face, but it was implied. Aria doubted my stance as an import consultant, and that skepticism was plastered all over her face.
I was sitting at my desk the next afternoon when the door opened, and Yuri walked inside.
“Boss.” He cleared his throat, halting in front of my table.
I looked at him, reclined in my chair.
“We have a problem,” he said.
Unfazed by this announcement, I asked softly, “What kind of problem? Did the Irish do something stupid to jeopardize the peace treaty between our organizations?”
“I wish that were the case.”
My eyes squinted ever so slightly.
A pause.
“The girl, Aria…”
My heart skipped a beat, and I didn’t realize when I leaned in until I’d done so already. “What about her?”
“Turns out you have an appointment with her at 4 p.m.”
I raised my brows. “I don’t understand.” A pause. “Who set up the appointment?”
“She did.”
“Yuri, you’re not making any sense. Explain.”
“We built a fake website to match your story just in case she ever went digging.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, she finally went digging, and she found our website,” he said. “She reached out via email to confirm that the address on the website was our actual location. I replied and told her it was.” He waited for a second. “Next thing she said was that she’d be there by 4 p.m. to speak with my boss.”
A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth as I drummed my fingers on the table. She’d made her move, but I was already two steps ahead.
I didn’t just forge a fake website; I also had one of my old offices converted into a believable import consultant space just in case she ever decided to pull a stunt like this.
“What should I reply to her?” he asked.
“Set up the meeting.” I leaned back in my chair. “And get the car ready.”
“Where are we going, Boss?”
Couldn’t he tell?
Wasn’t it obvious enough?
“To my new office as an import consultant.”
I wasn’t sure how long I was going to keep this up. Perhaps I’d stop after she found out the truth herself.
And then what?
What exactly was my plan with this woman?
***
At exactly four in the evening, she arrived at my other office—the location on our fake website. The setting was private, secure, and entirely under my control. I had real people act like real staff to make the place more believable.
I knew her reason for coming here was to confirm her suspicion and prove that I wasn’t who I said I was. But I was prepared. Fully prepared.
I was in my office when the door opened, and she was led inside by one of the “staff.” The surprise in her gaze was subtle, but I could see it. It was almost as if she hadn’t expected the location to feel so real.
“Miss Bennett.” I rose to my feet, walking around the table to meet her. “Imagine my surprise when I was told you scheduled a meeting with me today.”
The door closed behind her, and we were left alone in that large space.
“Honestly, I wasn’t even sure your team was going to get back to me at all,” she said, her eyes discreetly assessing the office interior.
“They usually wouldn’t have—considering the nature of your email.” I halted in front of my desk, my gaze unwavering. “You do realize that’s not how you schedule a meeting?”
She halted a few paces away, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “Like I said, I wasn’t expecting to get a response.”
“Why?” I asked, leaning against the edge of my table. “Because you thought we weren’t real? Perhaps that’s why you sent that email without a touch of…professionalism.”
She hesitated for a moment, then dropped her purse on the couch beside her. “Can you blame me?” She stepped forward, her boots scuffing against the marble floor. “You haven’t exactly been…straightforward with me.”
The way her voice dropped a little below average did something to me, making my pulse quicken. My eyes swept over her body, drinking in the sight of her in those jeans paired with a loose top.
Unlike the other night at the gala, today, her hair cascaded down her shoulders in effortless waves. She wasn’t dressed to impress or to seduce, yet even in that casual outfit, she still managed to stir something within me. Something primal and possessive.
“I have been straightforward with you,” I said, staring into those amazing blue eyes of hers. “The problem is; my responses are…”
“Usually annoyingly vague,” she cut me off, refusing to look away.
I let out a quiet scoff, fingers combing my hair backward. “You wanna know what I think?”
“Please, by all means.”
I leaned off the edge of the table and closed the distance between us in a few long strides. “I think there’s a version of this whole thing in your head that you so desperately want to be true.”
She looked up at her, and something flashed in her gaze. Something fiery. “I can’t help myself,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s my job not to leave a single stone unturned.”
I halted so close to her that I could hear the faint sound of her ragged breathing.
“I respect that.” My tone was lower than hers.
“But the thing about digging too deep is that…sometimes the truth is much more dangerous than it appears.” I paused slightly before whispering the last statement in her ear.
“I’m aware.”
A pause.
I pulled back enough to watch her face. “Yet you still pursue it.”
She gave a slight shrug. “Danger is part of the job description.”
The fact that she could confidently look me in the eyes and not flinch fanned the flames of whatever was burning inside me.
“Tell me, Anton,” she began, her gaze unwavering. “Is your truth dangerous?”
I hesitated, my lips curling into a small smirk. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
“No, I do not.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” I insisted. “Because, Miss Bennett, if I were as dangerous as you think I am, you wouldn’t be here. Alone.”
“I never said you were dangerous, Anton,” she said. “I only asked if your truth was dangerous.”
I stepped away from her after noticing my third leg was already twitching in my pants. “Truth is subjective, Miss Bennett.” I slowly walked back toward my desk. “To some, it’s dangerous. To others, it’s nothing more than just a harmless realization.”
“Has anyone ever told you you suck at holding a conversation?” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Has anyone ever told you you ask too many questions?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t help it—it’s what I do for a living.”
“Funny, you took the words right out of my mouth.”
“That’s not—it’s not…” she stuttered, brows knitting together. “You know what? Forget it.”
I laughed lightly, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the shelf. “Apologies, Miss Bennett.” I began pouring myself a glass. “I know I can be…difficult sometimes.”
“Try all the time.”
“Fair enough.”
Once I’d poured a generous amount into my glass, I did the same into another glass, then handed it over to her.
“Here.”
She hesitated, her gaze shifting between me and the glass in my extended hand.
“It’s not spiked, I promise,” I assured her, my voice low and even.
After a moment of thought, she stepped forward and accepted it. Aria didn’t take a sip immediately, almost like she was waiting for me to take the lead.
“It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” she said, scanning the space.
“Thank you.” I drained a reasonable amount of champagne down my throat.
Only then did she sip from her glass.
“Why aren’t you seated?”
She raised her brows by a whisper. “Did you ask me to sit, and I didn’t?”