Chapter 14
Quinn
I’m not sure if the ache between my legs is a result of all the things Reid did to me yesterday, or the things I’d like him to do…
if he were still here. In a matter of weeks, that man has turned my feelings for him one hundred and eighty degrees.
One minute I’m confronting an intruder at gunpoint, and the next, I’m smuggling him into the house.
Stepping beneath the shower spray, I wash away Reid’s kisses and fingerprints, but I can’t wash away the promise I made to him.
He doesn’t want another man touching me – and one man in particular.
In truth, it wasn’t a difficult decision.
Ilya is the vampire I shouldn’t invite into my room.
I can’t find Blake if the man who ruined her drains my life source too.
But what can I do? I need to come up with something.
As I stand in front of the window, towel-drying my hair, I spy Jason in the gardens.
I feel guilty about lying to him about my migraine.
I’d convinced him that the best way to help was to leave me in peace, and bless him, he had.
He’d sent a couple of messages checking in, and he’d let me sleep in.
And boy, did I need the extra time for recuperation.
I’m in the kitchen brewing coffee and ignoring the table where Reid and I feasted, when I get a message from Barrett. Everything comes back into sharp focus. He’s on his way and he’s bringing a friend. He doesn’t say who it is, but the fact he italicizes the word tells me all I need to know.
I race upstairs to grab my burner phone.
“Ilya’s on his way,” I blurt out as soon as the call connects.
“Shit,” Strider says. He heaves out a breath. “OK. Just stay calm.”
I pace my room. The first call I’d wanted to make was to Reid, but he’ll panic, and I need calm right now. I don’t have time to waste arguing about whether I should pack a bag and run. The time for debate is over.
This is happening, and Strider’s been with me from the very beginning. He doesn’t agree with every crazy idea I suggest, but at least he’s not trying to tempt me down a different path.
“I spent most of the night with Reid. Here,” I confess. “And I’m just a bit confused.”
“What the hell, Quinn?” There’s a pause. “So, am I allowed to call him your boyfriend now?”
“Don’t,” I warn because truthfully, I don’t know how to answer that.
“How can you take a risk like that?” Strider continues. “Do you think Ilya’s guards saw you with him? Is that why he’s paying you a visit?”
It’s not something I’d considered, but the question sends a jolt of fear down my spine. Could we have been seen?
“No, I don’t think so,” I reply. I bite down on my lower lip. I can’t be certain. “Reid left in the early hours and messaged to say he’d got out without incident.”
“Leaving you to face the consequences,” Strider points out. “It was a dick move on his part.”
“No, it wasn’t. He wants to help. His brothers do too. Reid only showed up yesterday to convince me to leave with him.”
“And yet you’re still there.”
“Oh, you know me. Why get a rich, powerful, and fiercely protective man and his three brothers to do something when I can do it myself?”
“You’ve got it bad for him, haven’t you?”
“I’ve got it bad,” I agree. “But before you berate him further, you should know he’s convinced me not to lay a honey trap for Ilya.”
I listen to the rasp of Strider scratching his chin. He can lose days in front of his computer screens, and I wonder how long it’s been since he showered and shaved. “I might hate him just a teeny bit less for that,” he admits reluctantly. “So, how did he manage to convince you when I couldn’t?”
Picturing Reid between my legs as I rested back on the kitchen table, I purse my lips. “You’re better off not knowing. But it does leave me with the problem of finding another way to get information from Ilya.”
Strider blows out a sigh. “You know, if I had the answer to that one, I would have told you already,” he says. “All I know is any surveillance is going to be risky now. Ilya’s going to be on high alert after his men were attacked.” He chuckles. “I still can’t believe you shot one of them.”
I’d updated Strider as soon as I’d left Reid in the woods that night. I still can’t believe I did it either. “It’s what I’ve been training for,” I remind him, and myself as I check out my assassin’s frame in the full-length mirror.
My oversized hoodie and leggings scream comfort, and my hair is frizzy after leaving it to air dry. My face is makeup free, and my lips swollen from too much Reid. I don’t look like the adversary I need to be.
“Scared?” asks Strider.
“Shitless.”
“You can do this,” he says. “We just need to figure out what else someone like Ilya could need from you other than your body. See how today goes. You’re smart. You’ll think of something.”
“I will.” I take a step closer to the mirror. “But first impressions are what count. I’d better go.”
“Please be careful.”
He’s sounding a lot like Reid. “You know I will.”
Strider scoffs, but he lets me go far easier than Reid would. That man was still begging me to come with him to very last, but I can’t turn away now. I need to look my nemesis in the eye and get the measure of him.
My legs are shaking as I stand between the giant stone columns at the entrance doors. I’ve warned Jason of Barrett’s arrival, and we’ve agreed he should keep out of the way unless Barrett requests his presence.
I’ve never felt so alone as I watch an SUV bring the recent arrivals from the landing strip to my door.
The driver is one of the guards I’d seen patrolling the gates.
He hadn’t looked particularly friendly the last time I saw him, and his expression is even more stern as he gets out and opens a passenger door.
A blond-haired man, dressed elegantly in a grey, pinstripe suit climbs out. Ilya is in his forties, with sharp features and cold blue eyes that immediately fix on me.
I keep my hands clasped behind my back, resisting the urge to smooth down my olive-green pant suit. I hold his gaze and as I nod in greeting, my silken hair sweeps forward, skimming my shoulders. My expression is open and courteous. I don’t smile. I’m a professional. And still scared shitless.
Barrett scrambles out from the other side of the car, circling around to catch up to Ilya as he mounts the steps. “Ilya, this is my estate manager, Quinn Jamieson.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Barkov,” I say, extending my hand.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Quinn,” he says in a distinctive Russian accent as he takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “And I insist you call me Ilya since we’re going to be working so closely.”
I manage to suppress the shudder. “Of course,” I say, keeping my voice even.
My queasiness suggests I would never have had the stomach to seduce him. Ilya’s touch has as much warmth as the corpse I’d like him to be.
Turning to Barrett, I add, “I have your office ready for your arrival, or would you like to relax in the drawing room after your journey?”
Barrett looks to Ilya to answer. “Drawing room,” the Russian says. “And I’d be pleased if you would join us, Quinn.”
I school my features, keeping my expression neutral.
“Certainly. Would you like some refreshments?” It’s pointless directing any more questions to Barrett.
It’s clear who’s in charge. “I’m afraid we don’t have a housekeeper, but I think I can be trusted to make coffee.
And there’s homemade fruitcake somewhere. ”
“Just the coffee for now,” he says, his tone a touch less honeyed. I have the feeling I’m not what he was expecting.
As I excuse myself, my heels click against the marble floor. Ilya will hear my retreat, so I force a casual pace while my breath stutters. Ilya Barkov oozes charm like a puss-filled boil.
Reid will be worrying. I’d sent a message to let him know what was happening, not trusting myself to talk to him, and he’d replied to assure me that he was on standby if I needed him.
I do need him. I long for his arms around me, or simply to hear his voice, but I’m taking no chances.
My burner phone is hidden under my mattress and away from temptation.
I was always meant to do this on my own. I’ve got this.
When I enter the drawing room, Barrett and Ilya are sitting at an angle to each other in two stiff-backed armchairs.
I place a tray on the low table between them and perch on the edge of the green velvet couch to serve our drinks.
Ilya scrutinizes my every move, and I hope he doesn’t notice the meditative breaths I take to stop my hand from shaking as I add sugar and creamer to his coffee.
It’s a relief when I can sit back on the couch with my drink. Ilya doesn’t speak until I bring my coffee cup to my lips.
“Do you trust your staff, Barrett?” he asks casually.
I manage not to choke on my coffee, but I swallow loudly.
“They were all carefully vetted but, as you know, the local security firm I employed were less than satisfactory.”
“On that we can agree.” Ilya turns to me. “It must have been very distressing having to deal with a Griffin on the premises.”
My eyes don’t so much as twitch. One particular Griffin has intruded several times now, but there’s only one incident I should acknowledge.
My first meeting with Reid. I hold Ilya’s gaze.
“Barrett had warned me about the brothers, and I go into every job prepared. The rest of the staff and I dealt with the matter with the minimum of fuss.”
“And the rest of the staff would be…”
“There’s only one other member of staff left.
We don’t need more while I’m not in residence,” Barrett says, and I wonder if it’s deliberate that he doesn’t name the two he sent away.
“Jason is our gardener. The landscaping has been completed, but we need someone full-time to maintain the gardens. My mother always said the exterior of a property is just as important as the interior, God rest her soul.”