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“I am. I saw those damn candles were still burning out front.”
“Good catch. Can you get them while I pour?”
“Sure, but none for me. I don’t like the stuff,” I said, ducking out of the kitchen and heading to the dining room. The air still smelled like the fancy dessert buffet Leo had set up.
The smell of black cherries and dark chocolate hung in the air, sending my mind hurtling into darkness for a second. It made my heart pound and my skin tight. It was funny how a simple combination of smells could conjure a memory so visceral. If I closed my eyes, I’d swear I was in The Tower, and Kirill was tugging me into his arms, surrounding me with that scent.
Would that smell always trigger a response for me?
I went to the candles and quickly blew them out. The acrid smell of the wick burning filled the air and dispelled the memory. Darkness fell in the room, with only the fire exit light illuminating the darkness.
A car idling outside caught my eye as I turned back to the kitchen. It was black, with the kind of tinted windows I didn’t often see outside of New York. I stared at it, unease climbing my spine like ghostly fingers trailing over every knobble of bone.
Backing away from the window, I stared at the car so hard my eyes started to swim. Without warning, the car pulled away and disappeared down the street, leaving only the whine of a powerful motor in the air as evidence that it had ever been there.
Christ, get a grip, Mallory.
I couldn’t go on like this, jumping at shadows and constantly waiting for the hammer to fall.
In the kitchen, Leo had poured two glasses. He held one out to me.
“Here, let’s toast to the business,” he sighed happily.
I took the glass, feeling churlish by refusing it. I clinked it against his and put it down as he drank.
“You won’t even drink as a toast?” He laughed. “I’ve never met such a teetotaler.”
“Sorry. I don’t like it.”
“How do you know if you don’t try? This bottle goes for three hundred a pop.”
My smile felt tight.Fuck’s sake, take a hint.“It’s wasted on me since I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like to pull rank”—Leo grinned, picked up my glass, and pressed it into my hand—“but I’m going to have to insist.”
“Why do you want me to drink it so badly?” I heard myself ask, the teasing tone in my voice thin. “Did you put something in it?”
He blinked at me. “What?”
“Why can’t you leave it?” I asked, my exasperation showing. I’d had enough tonight. I was anxious, pressed to a fine, brittle point, tired, and fucking fed up with being pushed around by men who thought they had the right to control me.
“Molly—” Leo started, but then stopped as he looked over my shoulder with a frown. “Sorry, we’re closed.”
Nerves prickled down my neck as a familiar voice spoke. “I got that from the closed sign in the window and the locked door.”
Max?
Leo looked confused and slightly worried. He wasn’t nearly worried enough.
I gripped the counter and turned slowly.
Max.
My former bodyguard, or prison warden depending on how I viewed the past, was lounging in the doorway, watching me with a faded grin.
“Mallory. Long time no see, sweetheart.”
I took a step back as my brain desperately tried to catch up.
