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I arch my eyebrows. “That’s a warning I’ll return in kind.”
“You can’t move against me,” he accuses, jabbing a skeletal finger in my direction. His breath is a foggy wreath, hanging around his puckered old man’s mouth. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Nor do I want to,” I assure him. “Just as long as you don’t give me a reason to.”
His eyes flash their brightest yet. Apparently, of all the things I’ve said tonight, that insult is the most offensive. I’m turning from the bar when he starts talking fast, his words slurring with the strength of his passion. “No matter. I don’t think I have to do anything. I’ll leave you to topple your empire all on your own.” He takes a step towards me, his nostrils flaring wildly. “Tell me: does your pretty little slut know that you were the one responsible for her sister’s death?”
I do everything in my power to keep my body language from betraying me. But all I’m thinking is?—
Fuck.
He knows.
26
DMITRI
My dark mood lingers into the night. Even the vodka I’ve been sipping on throughout the evening hasn’t dulled my sense of restlessness. Between the business deals and the action comes the intelligence gathering, and that’s the part I loathe most. Those stagnant moments where time stands still and there’s nothing else to do but wait.
I’ve got one team on Vittorio. Another team on the Irish.
And so far—not so much as a drop of information.
The apartment is quiet. Bee is at home, but she’s sticking to her room tonight. She tried to talk to me when I got back from her father’s club, but I shut down the conversation immediately. I’m not in the mood to hear her prattle on about my so-called “feelings” for Wren.
If I have feelings at all, they’re strictly primal, exclusively sexual. The combined result of months of celibacy and forced proximity to a woman who’s actively challenging my understanding of what I thought I was attracted to.
“Shit!”
I walk to the open archway when I hear a suspicious thump, only to find Wren in the hallway with a stack of books in her arms, several of which are currently on the floor. That explains the thump.
“Raided the library?” I ask, brow arched.
She blushes. “Uh… guilty.”
I lean against the wall and cross my arms. “Cedric must not have scratched the itch.”
“It’s not just provocative sex scenes, okay?” A swatch of hair falls over her face and she puffs it away angrily. “Some of those books have a legitimate storyline.” Bending down carefully, she picks up the fallen books and adds them back to the top of her pile.
I don’t miss the opportunity to ogle her ass, though I immediately curse myself for the mental lapse when I realize that’s what I’m doing.
“Thanks for the help, by the way,” she seethes sarcastically.
Sighing, I stand tall. “Come in here for a moment.”
“Are you asking or ordering?”
“Whichever one gets you in here.”
“Fine. Give me a second to put the books in my bedroom.”
She stomps off down the hall and I watch her go, marveling at how she can turn even the simplest request into an opportunity for dissent. I never had to ask Elena twice for anything. More often than not, I didn’t have to ask at all. She anticipated my needs and, before I even knew I needed something, there it was in front of me.
“Ahem.” Wren presents herself in front of me again. “Private Turner, reporting for duty.”
I step aside and gesture towards the sofa across the room. She promptly takes a seat in the armchair, because of fucking course she does.
I sigh again. This conversation might be harder than I anticipated.
