Taken By the Bratva Boss by Sarina Hart

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia

When I wake up, he’s already gone. If I’m honest, he was gone last night as soon as we finished, though he waited to take his body away until later. Probably shortly after I fell asleep.

But the bathroom door swings open, and he walks out, naked and glorious, not even a towel around his waist. He smells fresh and clean, and a wave of steam rolls into the bedroom behind him.

I snuggle deeper into the blanket, content to look my fill for now. “I would’ve joined you.”

His smile is slow to appear. “You were sleeping so peacefully.”

Apparently. “I can nap anytime. So you just mark down in your invisible rule book that anytime you want a shower buddy, it’s fine to wake me up.”

His smile doesn’t falter, but neither does it widen. I don’t know what happened, but something’s changed.

“You all right?” He doesn’t look ill. Or tired. In truth, he looks constipated. Even his smile has taken a pained look.

And then he shakes it off like my imagination has just had its wicked little way with me. “Oh yeah. I’m great.”

There it is. “Great.” I repeat his new favorite word back to him and wait.

He sits beside me on the bed, still naked. Still unbothered by it. While I’m on fire in ways a big red truck and all the water in the world won’t extinguish.

“Jacob is good with computers.”

I nod because the naked man sitting next to me wants to talk about Jacob. But he’s still naked. “He hacked into a case file for me.”

“Yes. He is useful. Talented.”

I wiggle my hand from under the blanket and lay it on his thigh. He looks down as my fingers creep closer. And then he’s gone. Standing. Out of the room through a panel I didn’t know was a door. I’ll investigate later, but right now, I’m confused.

I don’t know what happened. And I’m too emotionally stunted to dare ask.

Instead, I shower, dress, and pass the day with Anna because Leon has disappeared. Although, jerk that he is, he left word with Amanda, the nanny, for me to be ready at nine. It’s the second Saturday of the month, and the Monmoth is partying hard tonight. We’re going.

Nothing in the world beats the right little black dress, and somehow, one appeared in my closet—spaghetti straps and a hemline just below mid-thigh. My hair’s been spritzed. My makeup will do. And I smell like some flowery bath salts I found on a tray beside the tub.

And I tell myself what I look like doesn’t matter, but part of me—a part I’m so ashamed to admit exists—cares what he thinks, wants him to know who and what he left this morning when he raced out of the room. I might be part devil even, but I want him to want me, and I want to be strong enough to turn him down.

But when he knocks on my bedroom door, I’m bouncing with anticipation. I want to see him, and I want him to see me. Now.

I open the door slowly. Expectations are seldom met when hopes are so high, but I’m fearless. And he doesn’t disappoint. He’s fucking… wow. There aren’t other words to describe how incredible his soft, black sweater looks across his broad shoulders and the acres of chest. And what this man does for a pair of jeans should be against a commandment or a law or a treaty or some rule making document. Damn. His ass is… wow.

I’ve appraised his entire body—not a single disappointing inch—by the time he walks into the room and turns so I can meet his gaze.

“You look beautiful.” And maybe I do, but I’m a blip on a teeny tiny radar screen in some itty-bitty country where he is a full-scale battalion raid on my senses.

“So do you.” When I step into the hallway, Anna gives me a double thumbs up and I wink.

She’s probably getting too close to me. Probably too attached. Honestly, I am too. Leaving here, when it’s time, is going to break me. And it’s too late to stop it now.

As we pass her by, Leon kisses his fingertips and brushes them against her cheek. She giggles and follows us, sneaking to walk between us. “I’ll be the princess and you can be queen and king of our castle.” She straightens her back. “Remember, royalty doesn’t look down and we always stand straight.”

I don’t watch Leon, but I pull my shoulders back, paste on a smile, and hold onto the bannister as I follow the little princess. This is a little girl who’s going to make one hell of a crime boss someday. She has his strength and confidence along with his fearlessness. It’s a combination that will serve her well.

And she walks us all the way to the door, then hugs me and lets Leon pick her up. The family fantasy is potent, and I let myself get caught up in it enough to slip my arm around Leon while he holds her. Right up until the moment he stiffens.

I slide back to my own side of the dream and wait for him to put her down. Instead of a goodbye, she sends us off with another kiss of her fingertips, “I won’t wait up.”

He guides me around his car—one I haven’t seen before. It’s long and sleek and black and tinted. So clean I can see my face when he opens the door for me.

It smells like him, like his cologne. And his power. And him. The scent that has nothing and everything to do with who he is and what he does.

When he walks around and slides behind the wheel, the car starts with a push button and purrs like it’s part feline. “Italian engineering.” He shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows.

Leon Krilov is a man who likes driving. He exerts the same control over the car as he does when he makes love. He’s commanding and fearless. His hands caress and stroke the response he wants.

My body warms because the memories are fresh. Because I want him to caress and stroke me. Because we’re dressed like this is a date and we’re going to a hotel. It’s all very romantic. If we weren’t going there to catch an imposter-slash-rapist.

“It’s a nice car.”

He nods. “I like cars.”

“Nice night, too.”

Another nod. “I like night.”

I sigh. This isn’t working for me. “What’s going on?”

He pulls the car to a stop while we wait for a light to change. “I like you.” He turns to the windshield before adding, “Too much.”

My stomach flutters, and my pulse shifts gears. But I understand. This is a short-term deal we made, and we’re close to wrapping it up. “I like you too much, too.”

He lifts his hand off the gear shifter to take mine for a quick kiss against my knuckles before the light changes and we’re off again.

We don’t speak more about it. Now isn’t the time because one block later, he whips the car into a circular drive in front of large sliding doors that lead back through time.

Imposing in size and height, the Monmoth is a Chicago landmark, probably here before the pilgrims made it to Plymouth Rock. It has bellboys in old fashioned uniforms, a bar adjacent to the lobby on one side and gift shop on the other, and the marble and stone are pristine on the floors and walls. This place is elegance to the nth degree.

When we walk in, a number of people nod to Leon, like they know him. I don’t ask because he shuttles me through the crowd. All day, I’ve credited Leon with innocence and used his willingness to come here with me as proof of it. A guilty man wouldn’t bring me to his hunting ground where he’s known. But these people are smiling at him. Calling him by name. They know him. Again, though, the man I know isn’t capable of rape. Of hurting a woman.

He guides me to an empty table in the center of the seating area—all the other tables are full but this very visible one. “I’ll get us a drink.”

I nod because I need something stronger than water to get through this night. He isn’t ten steps away when a woman—a barracuda of a woman in a dress that fits like skin and makeup so professional no way did she do it on her own—yanks out the chair and sits in front of me. Her dark hair is almost purple where the chandelier light catches it.

“Who the hell are you?” Her voice is venomous, accusing.

“Olivia. Can I help you?”

She’s ready to kill me. Her eyes are flashing, and her fists are balled. This is a woman ready to kick off her stilettos and roll around in the mud while she yanks out my hair. “The fuck are you doing with Leon? He’s mine. Takes me to his loft and fucks me sideways every weekend.”

I don’t know what to say. “Uh, sounds painful?” I’m ignoring the jealousy. And the way her left eyebrow is cocked, daring me to come at her.

She shoves her chair back and stands now, slides around the table probably to punch me. A thought strikes and I smile. “You should ask him who I am.”

I mean it so we can find out who she is. Plus, I want to hear what he says.

“Maybe I will.”

I nod. “You should.”

“You’re not getting him. I do all that freaky shit he likes. You probably don’t even know how.” She looks me up and down and scoffs like I’m wearing a nun’s habit instead of the perfect little black dress he picked out for me.

“Well, you can ask him that, too.” I glance toward the bar. He’s walking our way with a glass in each hand. He sets a whiskey neat in front of me and holds onto his as he stands beside me on the opposite side of the woman.

“What the hell, Leon?” Fury booms in her voice. “You bring your little fuck toy with you tonight? Well, a threesome is going to cost you extra.”

He glances at me. Almost as if he’s having fun, he smiles. “Did you want to do a threesome?”

I can play along. “No. I don’t like to share.”

“Who is she?”

“Apparently, she’s your girlfriend.” Regular Saturday night hooker is probably more accurate, but I don’t quibble the semantics.

Her big brown eyes go dark black. “Who is she? Are you fucking kidding me, you son of a bitch?” When she reaches across the table to smack him, he catches her wrist and holds it for a minute, his eyes all the threat he needs for her to back down and figure out he’s playing for keeps.

“Who are you?”

“If he talked to me like that, I would tell him who I was.” I shrug. “Maybe we can figure out what’s going on then.”

“My real name?” She sighs and shoots Leon another glare. If he’s playing with her, toying to make her think he doesn’t know her, he’s doing it well. Hurt darkens the deep brown of her eyes. “Ella Burnett. Candy Cane is just the name I go by here.”

“At the Monmoth?” I don’t know why anyone would need a fake name at a business-oriented party unless she’s in the business of partying, and with a name like Candy Cane, the idea isn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

She nods. “And at his loft.” And now she licks her lower lip and pulls it between her teeth as she tilts her head at Leon. “He likes it.”

“How does he like it in his loft?” I speak quietly, as seductive as she’d told me he likes it.

“He likes it hot.” She looks at me for a second. “You haven’t been?” When I shake my head at her, she smiles again. “We could all go. Together. A freebie.”

Leon’s blank face doesn’t betray a single thought, at least until I turn back to the woman. I keep my voice as sultry and low as hers. “You could tell me where it is, and I could meet you both there.” I hand her my phone, and she types an address into the screen.

Leon strokes my spine just below my neck and a shiver runs straight south. We should be going. We’ve gotten a new lead. There isn’t a reason to stay any longer.

But his finger keeps stroking, and I keep sitting. “How long have you known Leon?”

“Since last year. He’s a regular, but I don’t make him pay anymore.”

“Does he like it rough?” I have no idea what I’m doing, I just want to keep her talking so I don’t have to examine what I’m doing.

She pulls her hair back, so the side of her throat is visible. There are distinct fingertip bruises, four of them in a line. “Yeah, but I like it.” She lets her hair free then moves in closer to me, so her breast is rubbing my arm. “Do you like it rough? Or do you like a soft touch? A woman’s touch?” She draws her finger from my collarbone to the swell of my breast.

I look to Leon for help, and he smiles. I down my whiskey. And just when I think I’m going to have to figure out how to get out of this myself, he draws me out of the chair and against him, his arms clasped just above my ass. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t share either.”

“You did before.” Now she’s pouting, but my chair is still between them.

“I’m not the man I was back then.” He grins. It’s a joke and I know it, but this isn’t really a laughing matter.

Her eyes narrow. “It was last fucking week.” She turns and stomps away. His drink is untouched, and I wriggle out of his arms to drink it.

“You okay?”

I scoff. “No.” I breathe out loud. “I thought she was going to fondle me right here in the bar.”

Now he’s the one with his lips pulled between his teeth. “Mm. Sounds like fun. Maybe I could have a try?”

Dear God, there isn’t enough resistance in the world to keep me from smiling up at him, from wishing he would.

“Exhibitionism your thing?” The idea of an audience has never appealed, but I don’t have moves like Leon, either.

“No, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone else looking at you.” He leans down because he still hasn’t moved across the table from me. “I wouldn’t mind a quick peek, though. Or a nice long examination.” Before he pulls back, he traces the shell of my ear with his tongue and groans just enough to make me wet and want.

My bones melt. “You can look as long as you want.”

“Do you want to go upstairs?” He moves closer and brushes his cock against my hip. Either he’s hard or he’s carrying rolls of quarters in his underwear.

“Did Candy Cane get your motor running?” I’m only half teasing.

“I’ve been hard since you opened your bedroom door and I saw you in that dress.” He grins. “I don’t even know what she had to say. All I could think about was taking you upstairs and peeling it down your body.”

Holy hell. I swallow.

“Of kissing you inch by inch as it falls.” Now his finger is at the swell of my breast. “Of flicking your nipple back and forth with my tongue.”

“Upstairs. Definitely. Let’s go.” Now I’m speed walking out of the bar to the reception desk at the lobby.

I wait on a small sofa while he gets a room key then he takes my hand and walks me toward the elevator. While we wait, he whispers, “I might not make it upstairs.”

Dear God. He’s potent. Can flip my horny switch with just words. “Maybe we’ll be alone in the elevator.” It’s as bold as I dare, but he groans again and looks up at the dial that says the elevator is close.

Not close enough. Not until the doors whoosh open and we step in. We are indeed alone. Thank God because he pushes me back against the wall hard, grabbing me by the hands. I love it when he takes control like this, reminding me that I belong to him and him alone. He kisses me while his fingers drag one of the straps down my arm. He cups my breast, squeezing it, pinching it. His touch sears my skin, marking me forever as his.

He bites on my earlobe, and a million little goosebumps run up and down my back. Then his mouth is on my nipple, and his other hand lifts my leg over his hip then trails from my knee to my ass to my pussy. My folds are wet, my pussy is yearning to take him in. But there is no time. This is crazy. My head falls back into the wall then forward so I can watch him tease my nipple with his tongue. “Leon…”

I’m lost in every sensation. Every pull of his mouth. Every skillful lick of his tongue. Every brush of his fingers through the slick wetness under my panties.

When he lifts his head to kiss me, his thick fingers dip inside stretching me, and I moan. Fuck, that feels good. Long and deep into his mouth. Before I can explode, the bell dings, and he moves away. The doors are going to open, so I adjust my top and smooth my skirt while Leon wipes my lipstick from his mouth. No one will be the wiser… apart from us. A woman and her puppy step into the elevator in front of us, and he winks down at me.

We are two floors from where I’m sure I’ll find heaven, and the ride is taking forever. The woman’s perfume is cloying, and her dog yips when it finds me over the woman’s fur-wrapped shoulder. I’m wet for Leon, and I just want to push this lady out of the elevator and continue where we left off.

We all exit the elevator on our floor, and Leon leads me past her to our room. When he can’t make the keycard work to open the lock, I take it while he stands behind me, his arms curled around me, pulling me backward, so my ass is resting against his raging cock which is threatening to tear the fabric that separates it from my aching, throbbing pussy.

“I need to concentrate or…” Finally, the light turns green, and I push the door open. Before we’re all the way inside, he’s spun me so we’re chest to chest. He feels rock hard, and his cock is pressing against my most needy spot. “We aren’t leaving this room until either your ass print or mine is on every flat surface in this place.”

“Dear God, make it a promise.” I know he’s kidding, but I want it. Everything he’s promised. I’m not a fool. I know our time is almost over. We’re so close to finding the truth, but I’m going to have memories to take with me. Memories that will last me a lifetime.

“I promise.”

“I like a man of his word.”

“That’s me.”

And he keeps his word until almost four-thirty in the morning when we finally leave for home. And there it is… home again. I have to stop thinking of it that way. We may have this wrapped up as soon as tomorrow. Then I will be gone, and it won’t be my home anymore.

A bolt of sadness strikes my belly. I look out the window so he won’t see the tears pooling and I can at least pretend I am a strong enough woman to leave.

He walks me to my room, and I don’t expect him to come in with me, but he does. Bold by my lack of sleep and the number of times he’d made me come, I smile up at him and his arms circle around me.

“You staying?”

His grin and the little kiss after is a bonus to the words, “God, yes.” Then he sobers. “Unless you just want me to tuck you in and let you sleep.”

I can sleep when I’m home again. When I’m alone. When there isn’t a reason to stay up except for my television. “No.” I pull him down for a kiss. “I like you too much, Leon.”

“I like you too much, Olivia.” And he walks beside me this time to the bed where we undress each other and slide in between the sheets. Instead of holding me, he lies on the other side of the bed facing me, his hand stroking my hair, thumb smoothing my eyebrow. “I don’t know what to do about you.”

“About me? What’s there to do?” But I know what he means. I’m just as stuck and just as confused. I sigh, only half content when he doesn’t answer. “I feel the same way.”

Now he reaches to settle me against him, my head on his chest, his lips in my hair. “Good night.”

“That ship has sailed.”

I lie in his arms until his breathing evens and then I turn away, and his body follows mine, so his chest presses against my back, and he wraps himself around me.

By the time we wake, it’s early afternoon and Leon’s arms are still circling my waist when I turn to lie on my back and dare a glance at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You just watching the back of my head while I sleep?” But I smile. These are some of the moments I want to take home with me, the intimate ones where it’s us, not a crime boss and girl who thought he raped her friend, but Leon and Olivia.

He shakes his head, a half-smile in place of the almost sad look I’d turned to find. “I was just breathing you in.”

Dear Diary, he was just breathing me in.

It takes a second, but like he thinks he isn’t supposed to say things so sweet; he clears his throat and the half-smile fades. He slips his arm from over top of my stomach and wiggles the one from under me free. “I should get ready to pay a visit to the loft Candy Cane told us about.”

No we? Like hell. I’m not staying here. My ass will be planted right next to his in the car. And when he has his a-ha moment, I’ll have mine.

“I’ll go with you.” And I’m an idiot because I phrased it so he can deny me this opportunity.

“It might not be safe. I can’t allow it.” His voice is doing the I’m-the-boss-don’t-question-my-decision thing that I don’t buy into.

What? “I can go if I want to go.” And I’m doing the you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do-you-big-doody-head tantrum thing.

“It might not be safe, and I can’t…the answer is no.” All he needs to finish it off and inspire a true and very adult tantrum is a that’s final.

“I’m fucking going, Leon.” I shake my head and go for the twelve-year-old version of an argument. “You might be the boss of whatever activities you engage in.” And yes, I say it. “But you’re not the boss of me.”

His lips twitch. “Really? I’m not the boss of you?” His smirk is mocking, semi-rude even. But who can blame him when I’m the one who took our argument to the depths of a junior high school fuss between kids who don’t know yet that holding hands is just the start?

“I’m going. Period. You’re the big bad in this place. You can protect me.” I shrug like it isn’t a question anymore. The decision has been made. I made it. He can live with it.

But he spins me to my back and covers my body with his. “Decisions made, huh?” He draws my hands over my head, holds them there. “I could force you to stay here.” He brushes his lips across mine, moves to my jaw then my throat, and god, help me, I tilt my head, so he has better access.

“You could. But you won’t.”

“I might.” His breath warms my ear and everything he says sounds sultry and sexy. My body hums with need. “I can do so many things.” He grinds his cock against my pussy, nudges the opening. “Being the big bad and all.”

“The and all is my favorite part.” I smile because I like playful Leon. A lot. Too. Much.

It’s something I’ll have to give serious contemplation time to later. Right now, I just want him inside me. And it’s all his fault.

While Leon holds my wrists over my head with one hand, he uses the other to hold himself up while he teases me with his dick. This man knows angles and how to use them for premium satisfaction.

And I know he’s trying to distract me, but I am single-minded when it comes to finding Denice’s rapist and making him pay. I can be horny and determined.

Once horny is wrapped up and we’re lying beside each other on the bed panting and sweating, I turn to look at him. “I’m going.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

Wow. That was easy. As easy as talking him into the shower with me, then climbing into the car when he’s ready to go.

He drives us to the apartment building at the South Loop and when he pulls into the circle drive in the front, a valet walks out of the building. “Hmm. My imposter lives high.”

I don’t comment because I don’t have words. This is a high rise with waterfront views. I want to take it all in. This bastard was living the life of luxury, and I buried my best friend because of him. I want to see every detail before I kill him with the gun Leon just pulled from the glove compartment and tucked into the back waistband of his jeans.

When the valet opens the door for me, he offers me his hand, and I smile. But when he walks around the car and looks at Leon, he takes a big step back. “Mr. Krilov.”

Leon isn’t just anyone. He’s a person with business interests, legal and illegal, all over Chicago and probably other places. He even makes the society pages on occasion, though rare. But this kid’s face is snowy white, so pale he’s almost see-through.

If Leon notices, he doesn’t mention. Doesn’t react, either. Instead, he walks around the front of the car to meet me on the sidewalk so we can walk into the building. Together.

On one side of the lobby, large glass windows stand in front of three rows of ten gym machines. The door is marked key card access only. Directly opposite the front entrance are three elevators and a stairwell. A concierge desk sits to the right.

A man—somewhere around fifty in a black and gold uniform with the braided rope hanging from one shoulder—comes out from behind, mutters an “oh, shit” then sobers. But it’s too late to hide his surprise. “Mr. Krilov.” He puffs out his chest. “The police said…”

Leon cocks his head. “The police said? Go on.”

The man clears his throat. “Well, sir, they said you were…dead. Died.”

Leon takes the news with his usual indifference, as in, he doesn’t react. Instead, he nods to the door behind the concierge desk marked office. “Is anyone in there?”

The doorman nods. “Yes, sir. Miss Halsey is in this morning. She’s been trying to reach your family, but…” He shakes his head. “I’m just very glad to see you’re alive and well, sir.”

He stands waiting, and Leon lifts an eyebrow. He isn’t interested in anything but getting behind that door to speak to Miss Halsey, whoever she is.

The man turns to the door, and Leon brushes past him and into the office. I follow quietly because the spectacle of a dead man walking overshadows any amount of interest reserved for the woman walking beside him.

Ms. Halsey stands, her pencil skirt showing off her long legs and trim figure. Her skin is dark, and her eyes are intelligent. But there’s no hiding the scoff when Leon walks in.

“You bastard.” She shoves away a high-back chair, walks around the desk, and slaps an angry hand against his cheek. My mouth falls open but still, Leon doesn’t react. And she turns her anger on me, looks me up and down from messy bun to jeans and tennis shoes. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Excuse me?” I have no idea what I’m supposed to be. But I need to see how this drama unfolds.

She glances at Leon. “Our arrangement is finished.” She walks back around the desk and sits in the high-backed chair again. “Tell me this, who’d you pay to dress up like a cop to come and tell me you were dead, huh?” She glares at me. “For her?”

This is the fury of a woman scorned, and I ignore the insult because she’s right. We’re not in the same league, she and I. I’m little league and she’s a pro.

And the longer he remains silent—a good twenty seconds—the higher her anger rises. And then it shrinks. “You’re not Leon Krilov.”

He nods. “I am Leon Krilov.” He sits in the chair across from her, and I stay back, near the door. “I believe the man you know as Leon Krilov impersonated me.”

“So, he’s really dead?”

This time when Leon doesn’t answer, I move forward. “We need to know who he is. You know him as Leon, but if there’s anything you can tell us…” I have no idea what to ask, how to ask it, or even what details could be useful.

She purses her lips. “He said Krilov Holdings owns the building and that I work for him.”

I glance at Leon. His face is still just a pretty mask of nothingness.

“He said… fuck.” She looks out the window at the circle drive. Her sigh is long and frustrated. “He said he would move me into corporate if I… helped him out.”

“And helped him out meant sleeping with him?”

“No, it meant I wash his car on Tuesdays.” She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “Of course it meant sleeping with him. And giving him one of the loft apartments on the down low. He said he was in a little trouble. Needed a place to get his head together.”

“Did he mention what kind of trouble?”

This time, she shot me an actual glare. “Not that kind of relationship. We weren’t friends. Didn’t share stories. Never saw his baby picture or talked to his mom.”

“My mother’s dead, and I was an ugly baby.” Leon speaks quietly. He’d never told me that either, so Miss Halsey and I aren’t in a wholly different kind of situation. And not for one minute do I buy he was an ugly baby.

Halsey shrugs. “Never mentioned that either.” She glances down at her hands folded on the desk, then up at Leon, smiles, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s imagining him naked. Taking the place of imposter-Leon. “The resemblance is remarkable. Must’ve been from the surgery.” She gives him as thorough a once over as I had way back…last week.

I don’t like her talking to Leon. Don’t like her imagining she can pick up with him where the imposter left off. Jealousy is a beast rolling around in my belly, and it’s why I almost miss the morsel of information in her sentence.

“Surgery?”

“He has a scar.” She moves her finger to a spot just below her jaw and swipes it toward her chin. “Said it was from a car accident he was in a few years ago. It’s also how he burned his hand and his chest.” Candy Cane had mentioned a burn on his hand also. At least, they were talking about the same guy and there weren’t two random guys going around as Leon. “You’re not burned.”

“No.” Leon gives a small, one twist head shake.

“So, he’s really dead?”

I understand her sadness, even though they didn’t have that kind of relationship. I don’t have that kind of relationship with Leon either, but I would be devastated to find out he was dead, see him walk into my office a week later, then find out it isn’t him and he really is dead. Can’t be easy.

Leon nods. “Yes. Is there anything you can tell me about him?”

“I don’t know. Probably not more than I already have.” Her eyes pool with tears. “Do you even own the building?”

Leon nods. “Yes.”

“So now I’ve told you, my boss, that I gave away an apartment to a man who was pretending to be you.” She looks at the ceiling and sighs. “Great day.”

“Have you been to his apartment?” Leon stands. “I need to see it.”

She nods. “It’s empty.”

His eyebrow goes up. What this man can do with a look is remarkable because Halsey stands and walks around to the door. She holds it open for me. And I step out in front of Leon, who waits for her to lock up. “Mike, I’m going upstairs for a moment.”

He nods. “Of course.” But he watches Leon as we pass.

Halsey leads us to the elevator, and when we’re inside with the doors shut, I look at her in the mirror. She’s probably not much older than I am. Her hair is darker. Eyes brighter. She is regal and elegant. The kind of woman I imagine Leon should be with.

I don’t like this feeling. All the insecurities of my youth come haunting back at me.

“You said his apartment is empty. Where are his things?” I ask because I need to think of something other than her long legs wrapped around Leon. Of his half-lidded eyes and parted lips, soft grin when he slides his cock in. Of the caress of his tongue, and how she’ll love kissing him as much as I do.

“I put them in storage.”

Thank God she spoke, or I might have moaned out loud thinking of Leon’s sexual skills. Instead, I’m feeling the loss like we’ve already decided I should go.

Oh shit. He’s going to tell me to go. We know what we know now. Denice’s rapist is dead. He impersonated Leon to death.

“I’ll need to see those.” Leon’s voice cuts through my misery. Barely. Truthfully, it only serves to remind me that I no longer have a reason to hear it once we leave here.

I’ve tried preparing myself for this, for this moment of realization. I knew last night it could be the end. But today, the reality is harsher, starker than I guessed it would be.

Fuck. It’s so much worse than I imagined, and I have no choice but to push the thoughts away so I can be present right now. Hear the details I’ve been dying to know since Denice came home and told me about Leon.

I look at him. He isn’t doing more than staring ahead as the elevator brings us to the nineteenth floor and Miss Halsey leads us to nineteen-oh-eight.

She has a badge on a lanyard, and she slips it into the slot and looks back at me. “It’s a master.” For whatever reason, she wants us to know she doesn’t have a key to the imposter’s place.

We walk inside an empty apartment with an electric fireplace built into a wooden-slatted wall opposite a kitchenette. Leon doesn’t bother to look at much but the doors on the left. “Closet and bathroom.” The space is wide open and opulent. The design elements are… fancy. Lights threaded through some sort of rope are crisscrossed in the recessed portion of the ceiling in front of the fireplace. The kitchen has a counter that runs the length of the back wall and makes a sort of designation between living area and galley cooking space.

“What’s a place like this go for?” I’m curious. As a teacher, affording something this luxurious is never going to happen, but a girl can dream.

“Nineteenth floor view, real hardwood, soundproofed walls. It’s a steal at three.”

“Three?” I pull my mortification back in. I could barely afford the seven hundred I paid on the wrong side of town. “A steal.”

Leon is on the floor in the closet, checking boards that aren’t loose. Then he moves to the window and runs his hands along the white wooden frame. Finally, he disappears into the bathroom.

I don’t know what he’s doing, but when he comes out, he takes my hand and pulls me along to the hallway. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t speak again until we’re in his car. “Call Adrian.”

He’s talking to his car and not me. The radio dials the number, and a moment later, Adrian answers. “I need you to go to the address I send you and pick up the belongings of Leon Krilov. Bring them to the house. Also, I need information on any car accident where a man died last week.”

“Okay.” The radio makes his voice crystal clear, like he’s in the car with us. “Is this about the girl?”

Since I’m not sure if I’m the girl he’s mentioning, I remain silent. I’ve met Adrian before, but I don’t know him well enough to inject myself into their conversation. And Leon hangs up without answering. I’ll never know the answer to Adrian’s question. Not that it matters.

Leon reaches into his waistband—front this time—and pulls out a quart-sized Ziploc. All I can see is a bundle of money—hundreds—and some folded papers.

“Whoever is pretending to be me knows I own the apartment building, and I don’t advertise that kind of thing. That building is in Adrian’s name. He is Krilov Holdings. I set it up for him a few years ago so if I…am no longer available”—he shrugs, and his hand loosens on the steering wheel for a second—“he has a business to make him money until Bratva is secure.”

I nod like I understand. This is all over my head. I teach English, for heaven’s sake.

“Anyway, it means it’s someone who knows me. Someone I know well.” He frowns. “Maybe someone inside my operation or someone who used to be.”

Another nod, but this one isn’t fake. I get it.

“When I was young, my father taught me to hide my belongings, anything special to me.” He glances at me, then quickly back to the road, and I’m not reading anything into it. He didn’t say I was special to him. And a look isn’t enough to assume it.

“I used to hide my trinkets and treasures”—what his voice does for words makes listening all the better—“in the floorboards in my closet or in the bathroom behind the mirror. I found this there.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” I want to put this mystery to bed, and I want it to go on forever, so I don’t have to leave Leon.

“No. I don’t know. The obvious choice would be Igor, but he’s dead.” He shakes his head. “Maybe a cousin. Someone I know. And I’m not going to stop until I find out who he is.”

I nod. I could stick around for a while longer. I have a couple weeks before school starts again, and I have to go back to work. Even if staying longer will make leaving, when it happens, harder.

It’s not a decision I can make right now because we’ve pulled into his garage, and he’s already out and walking around to open the door for me. Apparently, we’re done talking.