Chapter 9 - Josiah
I press the LCD on my dashboard to dial my brother, then wait while the ringtone plays through the speakers in my car as I drive through the city.
“Hello,” he says after a longer wait than usual.
“The West Coast Pakhans are in Chicago again and have requested a meeting,” I tell him.
“And you’re still worried about that attack on the practice operation you set up to prepare for their business?”
“Exactly. Did you find anything when you investigated? How is it going?”
“Not yet. I’m still working on it. I have a lot of eyes and ears on the ground trying to wangle information from all corners of the dark, dingy holes in this city.”
“The meeting is today. Now, actually. I really wanted to learn something, anything, before meeting with them,” I huff.
“I’m trying here, man. I promise you I’m working on it. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll message you.”
“Fine,” I sigh, accepting that it is what it is for now.
My brother says good luck before he says goodbye.
I don’t particularly believe in luck. Luck is a thing we trick ourselves with, so we have excuses for not putting in enough effort. People also dismiss your hard work when they tell you, "Oh, you’re so lucky." Luck has nothing to do with where I am today.
And when we don’t get something, we blame it on bad luck. No. It wasn’t bad luck. You just didn’t try hard enough. You didn’t fight for what you wanted.
Like you didn’t fight for her five years ago.
That’s not fair. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was keeping her safe.
Clenching my jaw, I rev the engine of my car and speed towards the meeting point.
I’m prepared for their questions. I’m sure they want reassurance, too.
But the bottom line is that they approached me, and that puts me at an advantage.
Walking into the restaurant that Ardalion chose, I look around the place and immediately take note of all exits, large windows, and which doors lead to the kitchen area or back of the restaurant. It’s a habit. A good habit. And it’s saved me on a number of occasions.
My personal guard parked outside the front of the restaurant and did not follow me in. I don’t want to insult the West Coast Alliance. The security isn’t to keep me safe from them, anyway. It’s a precaution after last week’s attack.
“Gentlemen,” I say, smiling as I walk towards the table. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I add, noting that they are all here and have drinks already.
“No, not at all. We arrived early and ordered some beers. Can I order you one?” Nestor says, standing up to shake my hand.
“That sounds perfect. And the burgers here are amazing, from what I’ve heard,” I inform them.
“Great, burgers all round then, I’m starving,” Ardalion says, shaking my hand.
I greet each of them, then take a seat at the head of the table, which they have left open for me.
It’s a sign of respect that I take note of.
These are powerful men, especially united as they are. But this is my city, and even with their joint force of power, I’d still be stronger here than all five of them put together.
“We’ve been enjoying Chicago,” Nestor tells me as Benedikt returns from the bar to bring me a drink.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate that,” I say, taking it from him. “And what have you guys seen so far?”
They chose a relaxed venue, an indication that the first meeting's formality is no longer required, and we can start to get to know each other differently.
“We’ve seen that you have reach in every corner of the city. There is hardly a street we could drive down where you haven’t got a building or some kind of influence. It’s very impressive.”
I smile at Kristopher. He is an observant man. The kind of man you value having on your team.
“Have you scouted routes for our operation? Do you have something in mind?” Emmanuil asks, immediately grabbing the other men’s attention. They're eager to go ahead with the operation, or they wouldn’t be so eager to hear my answer.
That’s a good sign.
I take a sip of my beer and nod.
“We always plan ahead by choosing three or four route options. That way, if one becomes an issue, we can immediately reroute to the next one with the driver is fully prepared ahead of time. But we do have a route preference, of course,” I inform them.
“Would you give us that information beforehand so we can drive the route for ourselves?” Nestor asks.
“Of course. I can have my driver take you on all four routes we have prepared?”
“That might be a good idea. We can scout it out while he does the driving. Sure, we’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll have him meet you at the hotel this evening. The delivery will take place after seven, during the week. It’s the quietest time, and in my experience, the safest.”
“Do you foresee any issues? Is there anything you are concerned might jeopardize the operation?” Kris asks.
I think about Kayla, how she has only recently come back into my life. I think about my daughters and how things have changed drastically for me in the past two weeks. But that's in no way linked to my business or my new alliance with these men.
Kayla’s presence in my life wouldn’t affect the operation in any way.
The attack last week would, though.
But I don’t want to tell them about that. Not until I find out who was behind it.
“I don’t foresee any issues. And with the operation still a few weeks away, we should have plenty of time to iron out any worries you gentlemen possibly have?” I say, turning the question back at them.
“I don’t know the city well enough to have concerns here yet,” Nestor chuckles.
“And we left our enemies back home on the West Coast,” Ardalion adds.
I pick up my beer and raise my glass. “Then we are all ready to push forward with our plans?”
“We are,” Nestor nods, raising his own. “To the start of good business and growing strengths,” he says. “We are very much looking forward to working with a man of your stature.”
“And I with you,” I nod in polite acceptance of his compliment.
After the meeting, I call Isaak again.
It’s half past six in the evening, and I’m heading back to the office to finalize a few things before I call it a day. But he didn’t message me, and I really want information on that attack.
“Isaak,” I huff when he answers the call. “I didn’t hear from you.”
“That’s because I don’t have any information yet,” he sighs impatiently. “I’m not going to make up something or tell you some half-assed rumor, Josiah. I will get you real information. And until then, you need to hold onto your pants, or whatever that saying is.”
“Hold your horses,” I tell him.
“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he replies.
I’m too tired to argue with him. “Do you want to hire another PI to cover more ground?”
“No, not yet. You haven’t even given me a chance yet, man. If I don’t have answers by Monday, then you can bring in whoever you want, okay? Is that a deal?”
“Yes, but Monday morning. First thing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
When I park outside the office building, it’s nearly seven.
I usually enjoy coming in after-hours, like the because it’s quiet and I tend to get more done.
But ever since my little girls moved into the mansion, going home is more of a lure to me than coming here.
I want to spend as much time as I possibly can with them—even if they don’t know who I am yet.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step out onto the top floor. The lights are dimmed and the desks are empty. Bianca’s desk is neatly arranged in exactly the same way she leaves it every single day after work.
I walk with my eyes down, looking at my hands as I fidget with my car keys. My head is full of thoughts. Thoughts about the new alliance, thoughts about Kayla. My twins.
Just before I reach my office, I notice Kayla’s desk light is on, and her laptop is open on the desk.
I pause, confused.
“Oh, you’re here too?” she says, arriving behind me carrying a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing here so late?” I ask, sounding like I’m scolding her.
“I had a few things that needed to be done urgently. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow morning and have to do them in a rush,” she says, pulling her chair out and sitting down before scooting back towards her computer.
I reach out, intending to close her laptop. “Kayla, go home,” I huff.
But she blocks my hand.
“No, Josiah, I want to finish this first,” she says, pushing my hand away and throwing me an incredulous glare.
I clench my jaw and sigh loudly. Her stubbornness drives me crazy sometimes, but I know it comes from a deep desire to prove herself. To be useful. To be not only good at what she does, but exceptional. I also realize that she’s determined not to need me. In a number of ways.
She lives with me, she works for me, but she wants to hold on to her independence.
“Alright,” I sigh, raising my hands in deference.
I head into my office and open my laptop. I wasn’t planning on staying. I just wanted to reply to one or two emails. But there is no chance in hell I’m leaving her here alone.
Sitting at my desk, I pretend to work while I watch her. She has her focus fully on whatever is in front of her, but I sense that she’s aware of me. And it’s annoying her.
She’s going to be even more annoyed when she finds out I cancelled her driver for the evening because she’s coming home with me. I don’t understand why she’s so against riding in with me in the mornings. Who the hell cares what people think? She’s already proven herself invaluable to this company.
At half past eight, she stands up and starts gathering her things.
I stand too, grabbing my phone and keys and shoving them into my pocket. I close my laptop and hurry out of my office.
“Ready?” I ask, leaning on the door frame and waiting for her.
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m done, yes. My driver is waiting downstairs, so I’ll see you at—”
“He isn’t. I told him I’d take you,” I inform her.
Her eyes flare wide.
“What if I finished at nine? Or ten? Were you going to sit there pretending to work the entire time?” she demands.
“Yes,” I answer plainly.
“Josiah, that’s ridiculous. I don’t—”
I start walking away, towards the elevators. “Come on, let’s go see the girls,” I say, ignoring what is sure to be a long-winded lecture.
She grabs her purse and shoves her things into it, and has to run to catch up with me. A mischievous smirk touches my lips. Why is it that I enjoy toying with her so much?
I hold the elevator door open for her, and she glares at me, clutching her belongings to her chest as she steps inside.
It carries us down to the ground floor and she sorts out her things, packing them into the bag and straightening her hair in the elevator's mirrored wall.
The door chimes, and she steps out.
At the car, I hold the door open for her, which earns me another annoyed glare.
“It’s just a door, Kayla, stop being so dramatic,” I tell her.
Her mouth drops open and she huffs loudly as she ducks into the passenger seat.
Inside the car, the air is thick with silent tension. She has her arms folded across her chest, and she’s pouting. Literally pouting. It’s fucking cute how angry she is.
Unfortunately, it also reminds me of the number of times I’ve been driven crazy by how beautiful she is since she came back into my life.
Fuck. It’s been a challenge. A challenge not to take what I want from her. A challenge not to make a move. A challenge to keep my hands to myself.
And sometimes, at home, she roams around in those soft white sweatpants and that white, almost transparent crop top with no bra on. Does she not realize how fucking sexy it is?
I clench the steering wheel tightly, forcing myself to look forward at the road as I drive towards the mansion.
At first, it’s going okay, and I think we’ll get home without any issues. The drive is quiet. It’s uncomfortable, but we’re almost home.
Except Kayla is too agitated to hold back.
“I don’t need you to follow me around watching me the entire time.
I have my own life, and if I want to stay late somewhere, I don’t need your permission to do that!
And during the day at work, you don’t have to keep your eyes on me every second of every day.
It’s driving me crazy. You act like you own me.
And you don’t, Josiah. Let me make that incredibly clear to you. You don’t own me.”
The words are flowing from her mouth like an avalanche. I get the feeling she’s been keeping this inside for a while, and now that she’s started, she can’t stop. I’m sitting here calmly waiting for her to get it all off her chest, but inside me, there is something raging. I want to shout back.
“I’m not a kid. And I don’t belong to you,” she snaps.
For some reason, of all the things she said, the last line pushes me over the edge.
“Actually, you do belong to me,” I snarl as a possessive streak snaps through me.
It’s been a long day, Josiah. Don’t take it out on her.
“Excuse me!” she snaps.
I clench my jaw, trying to stop myself from falling down this rabbit hole, but I can’t.
I’m under immense pressure to make the deal with the West Coast Pakhans work, and to find out who is messing with my operations, and of course…
to try and keep my hands off her while she is my face every second of every day.
“I do own you, and you do belong to me, Kayla. Don’t forget that you are my wife. You are the mother of my children. Everything about your life is tied to me.”
Her cheeks are burning red with anger as she glares at me across the darkness of the car.
“You are so arrogant that I think you are incapable of stepping back and listening to how condescending and selfish you sound. You act like I’m a possession. Like one of your cars. But I’m not. I’m me. I’m a real person with her own dreams and her own thoughts.”
I park the car outside the mansion and switch it off.
Kayla is still lecturing me.
I turn my body to face hers. She’s furious.
She’s fucking gorgeous.
She’s passionately angry, and it’s turning me on like crazy.
Without thinking, I reach out and cup my hand beneath her chin, tugging her face closer to mine.
“You are mine,” I growl.
She lets out a soft gasp, then falls completely silent as her lips part and her breath spills out, warm against my mouth.
Kiss her. You’ve held back for so long. Just kiss her.
I notice how her eyes drift to my lips. Her breathing changes, and I lean a little closer.
Kayla squeals, pulling her face away. “We’re home!” she declares, almost kicking the door open to spill out of the car. She doesn’t wait for me. She’s already up the stairs and through the front door before I can close the driver's side door.
Fuck.
That didn’t go well.