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“Dec, we looked for four years trying to find out information on Dmitri’s murder, and wouldn’t know anything if it wasn’t for Natalia being abducted. Don’t you think if you were going to find this guy, you would have already?” Finn questions as he stands to leave.
“Don’t start, Finn,” I warn. “You know I’m not giving up. I promised her I would find the man who took her and I intend to keep that promise.” I walk behind my desk and grab my suit jacket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be in thirty minutes.”
“Tell Natalia I said hello,” Finn calls as he walks out the door.
Rolling my eyes, I lock my office door behind me. It’s not that I don’t trust my staff, I’m just paranoid. As I walk down the hall and out the door leading to the garage, I mull over all the dead ends we have run into trying to solve Dmitri’s murder. It seems like whoever this guy is, just vanished.
Getting into my car, I dial Natalia’s phone number.
“What do you want,hui?” She answers, her voice filling the empty car over the speakers.
“Calling me names is not nice, Natalia,” I chide when she calls me a dick. “Meet me at the house in thirty,” I say as I put the car in reverse, backing out of the garage.
“No,” she states firmly.
“What do you mean, no? Natalia, meet me at the house,” I mumble as I pinch the bridge of my nose with annoyance.
“No.”
“Natalia Raisa Belov , I swear to God you are the most stubborn person I know sometimes. Meet. Me. At. The. House.” I leave no room for negotiation this time though the silence that spans between us suggests she is ready to keep up the pissed off facade.
“Fine.” She says, finally breaking the deafening silence. “I’m only coming so I can yell at your ass in person though.”
“Great! See you then,” smiling to myself, I disconnect the call and turn my phone off.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling into the abandoned parking lot, and find Natalia waiting. She’s leaned against her car with her hands resting on her hips. The scowl that rests on her face causes me to smirk. She is definitely pissed at me.
Grabbing my bag from the back seat, I get out of the car and walk over to her. “Hello,mo ghrá.” I lean down and kiss the top of her head. She looks up at me, and if looks could kill, well, I would be the next name added to her roster.
“Don’tmo ghráme,” she says as she stands up straight. “I’m pissed at you. What’s with the stuffy suit?” She picks her bag up off the ground and brushes past me, starting down the trail. I knew there was nothing wrong with my suit, she just had to find something to pick apart at the moment.
“For your information, this suit is not stuffy. It’s practical,” I retort, my eyes following the sway of her ass as she walks.
Natalia scoffs and shakes her head. “Spoken like a true businessman.”
When we arrive at the house, she unlocks the door, and I follow her inside. “I can ditch the suit right now, no issues.”
“Oh, yeah?” She raises an eyebrow as I unbutton my shirt. I smirk at her and throw it on the back of the couch. Her eyes go wide when she realizes where this is going. “Knock it off, Dec.”
“But I thought you didn’t like the suit?” I say sarcastically, taking my belt off in one quick motion and toss it on top of my shirt.
“Okay, fine,” she holds her hands up in defeat. “You can keep it on.”
I chuckle and grab my clothing off the back of the couch. “I’m kidding. I’ll go change in my room.”
Natalia lets out an annoyed sigh and walks to the kitchen. “I’m going to make supper. Did Finn stock the fridge?” She asks.
“Yeah, he came yesterday,” I reply over my shoulder as I walk to my bedroom.
After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants, I head back to the kitchen. Leaning against the doorframe, I take a moment to admire Natalia. She’s not wearing any makeup. Her long auburn hair is tied up in a ponytail with a few stray pieces falling in her face now and then. She has on a simple t-shirt and leggings. If you had to ask which version of Natalia I prefer, I’d tell you this one, hands down.
Clearing my throat, I walk on into the kitchen and stand beside her. “Is there anything I can help with?”
“No, I think I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” She glances at me, then back at the food. Her face is one of total concentration as she flips a burger, taking a peek at the other to see if it also needs to be flipped.
Walking over to the liquor cabinet, I grab a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “What are we having?”
“Nacho pork burgers with potato wedges,” she says, pulling the potatoes out of the oven.
