Chapter 4
MAXIM
I 've made a catastrophic mistake. The realization follows me all the way from the auction to the underground parking garage. Not because of the money.
The money is irrelevant.
The amount I paid for Sydney Noble tonight barely registers. I've spent more on information and on security. On making problems disappear. But money can’t make this problem disappear.
This problem is standing three feet away from me in a midnight-blue dress, watching me with wary blue eyes.
I came to the auction to get access to Mercer’s accountant. That’s the problem I was supposed to solve tonight. To set things in motion for the investigation, for Rurik. I was supposed to leave before the auction started.
Instead, I left with Sydney. I fucking purchased Ben Noble’s little sister.
I unlock the passenger door of my Aston Martin.
Sydney hesitates.
The parking garage lights cast pale shadows across her face. She looks exhausted. The deep tired that comes from carrying too much for too long. "Thank you," she says quietly.
I frown. "For what?"
"The auction."
The answer surprises me. I expected suspicion, or at least questions. Not gratitude.
Her gaze drops briefly. "Victor Lang was going to win."
The simple statement tightens something unpleasant in my chest because she's right. If I had followed the original plan and left before the auction, Lang probably would have won. She’d be setting up an arrangement with him tonight.
And I know exactly how horrible that situation would have become. I open the car door. "Get in."
A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. "Very polite."
I close the distance between us. Not enough to touch, but enough to make her tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "I'm not polite."
Her breath catches, and then she slips into the passenger seat.
I shut the door and walk around to the driver’s side, telling myself to ignore how turned on I am from just that flash of skin she exposed as she swung her legs into the car.
She’s quiet during the drive, and I don’t know what to say. The city glitters beyond the windshield. Skyscrapers rise against the night sky, and rain slicks the streets in silver reflections.
Sydney watches everything through the side window, her right leg bouncing up and down. She’s nervous, but trying not to show it. Eventually, she clears her throat. "What happens now?"
I glance at her. The city lights illuminate the side of her face, showing the elegant curve of her jaw and the faint crease between her brows.
"You move into my penthouse."
Her eyes widen. "Tonight?"
"Tonight."
She looks out the window again. I can almost see the calculations happening behind her eyes. Ben would be proud.
The thought arrives unexpectedly.
I haven’t kept in touch with him, but the man struck me as practical. The kind of person who considered consequences before acting.
Unlike me.
Because if I'd been thinking clearly tonight, I would've stayed away from Sydney entirely. Instead, I bought her.
My jaw tightens.
The smart move would've been finding another solution. Asking her why she needed money before she stepped up on that stage. Figure out a way to pay her bills anonymously. Having someone else help.
Anything.
Instead, the second I saw her standing beside Lang, every rational thought disappeared.
And now my carefully constructed undercover operation has become infinitely more complicated.
Because I'm responsible for her, and every rival I've made over the last three years can now use her against me. Somehow, I must protect her from that.
Because she matters.
The realization arrives with unwelcome clarity.
She matters. Far too much already.
When we arrive at my place, I park the car in the underground garage, and we ride the elevator to my floor in silence. It opens directly into the penthouse.
Sydney steps inside and gasps.
The penthouse occupies the entire top floor and has glass walls overlooking the city.
The skyline stretches endlessly beyond the windows.
Inside, soft lighting illuminates polished hardwood floors.
The decorator created a space designed to impress with modern furniture and original artwork. I rarely notice any of it anymore.
Sydney clearly does. "Oh." A genuine laugh escapes her. It’s soft and surprised. "Oh wow."
I find myself watching her instead of the apartment.
The wonder on her face as she slowly turns in a circle and momentarily forgets to be nervous.
It’s dangerous watching her. It stirs up emotions I have no business feeling. Can’t afford to feel. Everything about this woman is becoming dangerous.
"This is where you live?"
"Technically."
She looks at me. "What does that mean?"
I loosen my tie. "I'm rarely here."
"How rarely?"
I consider the question. "Most days I'm at my office." True enough. "Or meeting clients." Also true. "Or elsewhere." Definitely true. Though she probably wouldn't appreciate hearing that elsewhere sometimes involves Bratva meetings in a dive bar across town.
Sydney kicks off her shoes and walks toward the windows. Her reflection shows a soft smile on her face. "It's beautiful."
I shouldn't enjoy hearing that. This place is simply a tool. An extension of my fake persona. Nothing more.
Yet hearing that she likes it, is impressed by it, somehow changes the space and makes it feel more like a home than a place I use to crash.
She turns back toward me. "So, what exactly are the rules?"
The question pulls me back to reality "There aren't many." My brain scrambles to figure out how to navigate this unplanned situation.
She quirks an eyebrow.
I continue. "You'll have access to the penthouse."
Her expression becomes increasingly skeptical. "That's it?"
"That's it." She laughs. The sound does strange things to my concentration.
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
"You spent a ridiculous amount of money tonight."
"I did."
"And all I have to do is live here?"
"Essentially."
She folds her arms. The movement draws my attention to the curve of her body beneath the blue dress. I immediately look away, but I’m a second too late, because Sydney notices. Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
I notice that too. Which is another problem. Everything about this woman is a damn problem.
She shakes her head. "That makes little sense."
No, it doesn't. But unfortunately, I can't explain the real reason.
I can't tell her that her brother once saved my life, because nobody is supposed to know about that. Which means I can’t tell her I recognized her immediately.
And I can't tell her I would've paid twice as much to keep her away from Lang, because I haven’t quite unpacked that yet.
So, I settle for a partial truth. "I prefer simplicity."
She stares at me and then snorts. "You're impossible to read."
Good. That's generally the point.
A silence settles between us. It’s not awkward, but it’s heavy. A soft spring rain taps softly against the glass. And for a moment it feels as though we're the only two people in the city. Dangerous.
Again, that word.
Sydney clears her throat. "I have another question."
"Ask."
She hesitates and chews on her lip. My dick stands at attention and I shift my legs to ease the pressure against my zipper. Her green eyes flash as they look up at me. "What about your girlfriend?"
The question catches me completely off guard. "My what?"
"Your girlfriend." I stare and Sydney shrugs, a little defensively. "I did research."
“Of course, you did.”
Her cheeks flush slightly. "I’ve never done this before, so I looked stuff up." She tosses her hair. "Most sugar relationships aren't exclusive."
My reaction is immediate, instinctive, and violent. Something cold and possessive instantly unfurls inside my chest. "No." The word comes out harder than intended.
No other man can touch her. Can’t even look at her.
She’s mine.
Sydney blinks. "No?"
“There will be no other men. Break up with whomever you’re dating.”
“I’m not dating anyone.” She frowns. “That’s not what I asked.”
I take a deep breath and rewind the conversation in my mind until I get to her original question. "There’s no girlfriend."
Her shoulders relax slightly. The reaction shouldn't please me, but it does. Unfortunately.
"What about other women?"
The possessive feeling returns, and it’s stronger this time. I take a slow step toward her. Then another.
Sydney stops breathing.
I notice because I stop breathing too as the space between us narrows. "Why do you care?" The question emerges rougher than intended.
Her eyes widen. I must have caught her off guard, because she takes a moment to answer. She lifts her chin. "I was asking because I wanted to understand the arrangement."
That’s reasonable, even logical. Unfortunately, both have abandoned my brain, as evident by tonight’s purchase. "There won't be other women." Her breath catches, and I continue. "There definitely won't be other men either."
Sydney swallows, and the movement draws my attention to her mouth, again. It’s a massive mistake, because now I can't stop looking.
Her lips part slightly.
My pulse immediately kicks harder. Fuck . I've faced armed rivals without feeling this off balance. Yet, somehow standing three feet from Sydney Noble is testing my self-control.
"You sound very sure about that." Her voice is softer now, not quite teasing, not quite challenging, but something in between.
I take another step and am now close enough to catch the scent of her perfume.
Close enough to see tiny flecks of darker blue in her eyes.
Close enough to touch.
"I'm very sure." My voice is dark and rough.
For a moment neither of us moves. The attraction between us hangs in the air, undeniable and growing stronger with every second. I should leave.
I should put distance between us.
I should remember the investigation and the risks and complications it carries.
Instead, I remain exactly where I am.
So, does she.
Sydney's gaze drops briefly to my mouth and then returns to my eyes. The movement feels like a spark landing in gasoline. My restraint unravels slowly, dangerously.
"Why?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.
The question hits harder than it should, because I know what she's really asking. Why her? And I can't answer truthfully because I don’t know myself. So, I give her the only answer I can. "Because I don't share what's mine."
Sydney's eyes widen and heat sparks between us.
I should say something reasonable, something to diffuse the situation. Instead, I reach up and brush a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. The contact is brief, but a jolt transfers from the skin to skin contact.
Her breath catches.
Mine does too.
For one suspended moment, neither of us moves.
Then Sydney closes the remaining distance and kisses me. It’s soft, tentative, barely a brush of her lips against mine, like she's testing whether this is real.
Every coherent thought immediately disappears from my mind, and I groan. Forcing myself to be gentle, I carefully cup her jaw as though she's something precious and deepen the kiss.
A moan escapes from her throat, and it takes all my control to not throw her over my shoulder and carry her to the bedroom.
When we finally separate, both of us are breathing hard. I stare at her as rain continues tapping against the windows. And for the first time since walking into that auction, I understand exactly how badly I've complicated my life.
Protecting Sydney Noble was supposed to be a debt payed back. A favor owed to the man who once saved my life.
Instead, it's rapidly becoming something far more complicated and dangerous. Something I have absolutely no business wanting.
Her.