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Jesus, those eyes.
He finally takes a step back, then he moves his hand in the direction of the building that’s about a hundred yards from where we are now, wanting me to walk while he follows.
That’s not going to happen.
“Lead the way, Mr. Acerbi.”
This earns me a chuckle.
“Ladies first, detective.” His mischievous eyes cascade downward then slowly ascend back up to my eyes once more. “Please.” He sighs. “I’d like to think I was raised withsomemanners.”
I stare up at him for a moment, weighing my options. Walking in front of him puts my back to him. It’s not ideal at all, but neither is he reporting me here and it getting back to my police chief, or worse, Lance.
Turning away from him, I make the decision to lead. It gives me an uneasy feeling. I was trained to never leave my back open, and in most situations, someone is always there to have my back.
We walk in silence the short distance to his building. There isn’t anything fancy about it. It’s a large metal building with three bay doors along the front and one walk-in door at the corner of the building near a parked, sleek, black Bugatti. I know that’s Drago’s car from my research earlier this week.
What anyone needs with a car priced at over two and a half million dollars is beyond my comprehension. Let’s not forget, LA traffic is horrendous, so why on earth would you drive a car that can go approximately two hundred-sixty-seven miles per hour on the four-o-five?
Hell, what someone would need to bank just to rationalize that price blows my mind.
My brother and Alana both have good-paying jobs and together, they’re wealthy. They have a large family home outside the San Francisco city limits, a condo near the financial district, along with a loft in New York City for frequent business trips. But neither of them have a vehicle that comes close to comparing to Drago’s sexy black bear of a car.
My father is a wealthy man too, but this is ridiculous.
Judgmental much?
Maybe... But what exactly does he do to make that much money?
I eye the sign that covers a large portion of the top of the building. It hangs above the bay doors.Acerbi Imports.
Just what all does he import?
“To your left, detective,” his smooth voice says directly behind me as his palm cups my hip and lightly veers me toward one of the open bay doors.
I stiffen momentarily, making myself aware that I was once again distracted, not even realizing how close Acerbi had gotten. I immediately start mentally cursing myself for not being more aware of my surroundings.
So dumb, Bri. Stop being awestruck.
When I enter the metal structure, it’s exactly what you’d typically find in a warehouse. Pallets piled high with boxes of merchandise tightly wrapped with plastic wrap. Particles of dust tickle my nose as I take in the rest of the place. There are at least twenty men milling around.
Before Drago presses me to move toward the front corner, I catch a glimpse of a woman toward the back. She’s talking with several of the workers.
“This way.” He pats my hip then steps around me. My eyes follow him before I do. He’s heading toward a set of stairs. When I look up, I see an office that overlooks the warehouse. From where I stand, it looks small, and it’s the only contained space I see up there. The rest of the space is open, overlooking everything below it.
Just as I near the steps a man calls out to Drago.
“Hey, boss, wait up.”
Drago stops just as one foot lands on the metal stair. Turning his head toward me, he peers over my shoulder. The irritation in his dark eyes quickly fades. My head twists, looking in the same direction as a tall, lanky man jogs past me. He stops in front of Drago, holding a clipboard in his arm.
“Miss De Luca asked me to get your sign-off on these.”
He hands the clipboard over, followed by taking a pen from his shirt pocket and passing it over too. He turns his body so that his back isn’t facing me any longer. Instead, I see his profile.
After Drago takes the pen, he begins looking over the documents attentively as if he’s scrutinizing everything on the pages.
His employee glances my way with a warm smile. That smile vanishes when he lowers his eyes, catching the badge that I have clipped to my slacks. His eyes widen, then he quickly looks back to Drago with a forced blank face.
