Chapter Two #2
“Drinking on a work night,” I comment, raising a brow.
“So are you,” she snaps.
“I’m the boss. I can.”
“Well, I’m not your employee, so it’s none of your business.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes. She’s hot when she’s pissed. “I thought we sorted that out earlier.”
“You thought wrong.”
“You owe me for the carpet, and the desk,” I remind her. “You’ll pay it off by working for me.”
“I’d rather lick it up than pay you a penny,” she shoots back.
“Careful,” I murmur, leaning in, “I might make you do just that.”
A flash of heat runs through me at the image, her bent over my desk, that dress riding up, and I have to shift slightly to disguise my body's reaction.
I hand Courtney a glass of Champagne, and Leoni ’s gaze flicks to it. “Would you like a glass?” I ask. She hesitates, then nods once. “Then ask.”
Her scowl returns full force. She’s too stubborn to say the words. Her friend looks from her to me, clearly uncomfortable.
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind,” Leoni mutters. “I don’t need your Champagne. I can buy my own drinks.”
She turns and strides off toward the bar, head high, and every step a challenge in those heels.
Courtney watches her go, eyes wide. “She really doesn’t like you,” she says. “I’ve never seen her act like that toward anyone.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I mutter.
“No, really.” She shakes her head. “Lee is the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’d give her last breath to a stranger if it meant they didn’t suffer. She’s kind to everyone, even the horrible ones. I honestly don’t know how she does it.”
I watch her weave through the crowd, her shoulders tight with irritation, and every step screaming attitude. She plants herself at the bar, trying to get the barman’s attention.
I tilt my head toward Anthony and gesture for him to come over. “Tell the bar not to serve her,” I murmur.
He smirks but nods, disappearing into the crowd.
It doesn’t take long. Minutes later, she’s storming back, eyes blazing, curls bouncing with every furious step.
“Seriously?” she snaps, stopping in front of me, hands on her hips.
I smile, slow and unbothered. “Problem?”
Her glare could cut glass. “You’re such an ass, Warren. I really don’t understand what your problem is.”
I lean forward, my voice low, the noise of the club fading around us. “You, Leoni.” I pause, just long enough for her to catch her breath. “You are my problem.”
Her phone buzzes in her hand, and she jumps, startled. She glances down, frowns, and answers.
“Hello?”
It’s followed by a pause. A long one. Then her face drains of colour.
Without a word, she grabs Courtney’s hand and starts dragging her toward the exit, shouting into the phone, “I’m coming, I’m coming, just stay there!”
I move before I even think about it. The idea of her disappearing into the night without another word, without finishing whatever… this was, burns in my chest.
Outside, rain batters the pavement. The street is chaos with drunk bodies swaying around us and cabs already full and speeding past. Leoni is frantic, her arm in the air, waving wildly at every taxi.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
She doesn’t look at me. “None of your business,” she snaps, her voice shaking, not with anger but fear.
She steps off the curb into traffic, still waving at cars. Horns blare. She doesn’t even flinch.
“Lee, what are you doing?” Courtney cries.
“I need a fucking cab! My brother needs me… he’s hurt.”
A bus barrels toward her. She doesn’t even see it. I move quickly, wrapping my arm around her waist and yanking her back hard. The bus roars past, inches away.
“You’ll be joining him in an ambulance if you keep doing shit like that,” I growl.
Her hand presses to my chest, soaked and trembling. For a second, she looks at me like she’s seeing me, not her boss, not the man she hates, but a lifeline. Heat punches straight through me.
Then we both blink, and the moment shatters. I release her.
“I’ll take you,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
My Mercedes rolls up, and before Anthony can get out to open the door, I do it myself. She slides in without hesitation, and Courtney scrambles in after her.
“Hospital,” I tell Anthony, getting into the front passenger seat.
“He’s not at the hospital,” she mutters. She’s staring out the window, breathing fast. “He’s waiting outside my apartment.”
I frown. Panic like that and he isn’t being treated? Still, her fear was real.
“Where?”
“The Riverside Apartments.”
Anthony’s eyes flick to mine in a side glance.
“Richmond?” I ask, surprised. She nods.
I shoot Anthony a look: How the hell is she affording that? What am I paying her?
“You heard her,” I say.
He pulls away fast, weaving through traffic toward Richmond as rain streaks down the glass and Leoni silently twists her fingers in her lap, terrified for someone she loves.
We pull up outside a sleek, glass-fronted building—ten apartments stacked above street level, rain sliding down its mirrored surface. Leoni and her friend jump out before the car’s even stopped properly. She doesn’t look back.
Anthony waits until the doors close behind them before steering down into the underground parking. The first level is for tenants, all neatly marked bays and security lighting. Beyond the private gate, opened with a flick of Anthony’s key fob, we descend another level.
Down here, the air smells of polish and petrol. My cars line the wall, their chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights, machines that cost more than most people’s homes.
“Find out how long she’s been living here,” I say, my eyes fixed on the exit ramp.
Anthony nods once. “On it.”
I step out and head for the private elevator, the one no one else has access to. It hums softly as the doors close, sealing me inside.
The ride to the penthouse is smooth and silent. Too silent. My reflection stares back at me in the mirrored panel, controlled, unreadable, but my mind’s still on Leoni.
Leoni Dove. Living in my building.