“Okay. Take these couple of days to get packed, we don’t need you on shift. Ivan can cover and Kai will have to help out.
“Jules will love that.”
“Well, Jules ain’t the boss. Go on, get out.”
I quickly get up and rush out of the office, straight to my room, needing space and silence to digest what’s just happened.
Dima knows. Holy shit, he knows about me and the world didn’t end.
I’m still here.
18
CARLOS
I t's two days later, and I’m waiting outside the Kozlov mansion in the back of my car for Simon to join me. Today we leave
for Brazil. My father arranged for us to be collected as we are using his private jet. My brother Enrico, along with Lucas and
Mark, are in another vehicle, already heading for the airport. Simon wasn’t thrilled to be chauffeured with me as a companion. Speaking of Simon, here he comes, walking out toward the car with a small case, like he’s heading for his own execution. I will make him smile one day. I have to laugh though, as I look behind him where Aaron, Kai and Seb are waving him off. They’re an interesting family, I’ll give them that.
After the driver places Simon's luggage in the trunk, he sulkily gets into the back with me, not even looking at me. Treating me like a stranger. Like we haven’t fucked and seen every inch of each other’s bodies.
“I don’t see why you had to pick me up like it’s some kind of fucking relationship. Do you know what those assholes are like? I’ve had to listen to constant questions this morning about this trip and you.”
“Sorry, my father’s orders. I gather if they’re asking questions, they know about you?”
Simon stills in his seat and glances at me before fidgeting with the car door, pretending that there is something interesting going on outside of the car.
“No. Well, Dima says they know but I’ve not confirmed anything.”
That's new information.
“Dima knows? About you or about us?”
“Both, so can we drop it please? I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.”
“How long are we going to be away? You have enough luggage back there for a month,” he says.
“A week, maybe two. I always overpack. You can never be too careful.”
“Careful? It’s fucking clothes.”
“Expensive and beautiful clothes.”
“Snob.”
“I prefer to say I have good taste and take pride in how I look.”
“I take pride and don’t own an obscene amount of clothing.”
“That’s because you wear the same thing and I guess have multiple items of the same clothing?”
“Smart ass.”
I lean over and lower my voice, and I don’t miss the goosebumps that flare up on his neck.
