I didn’t bother refuting it. I couldn’t if I tried.
“Makes sense.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly feeling unsure. Our tension had exploded spectacularly after weeks, maybe even months, of buildup, and now we had to deal with the aftermath. The problem was, I always sucked at cleanup. I was forever getting into messes with no vision of how to get myself out.
Kai and I lapsed into silence as we finished straightening the room and ourselves out. He seemed as lost for words as I was, though he could just be mentally prepping for his call, I thought sourly.
I exited the room first, but I didn’t make it two steps before I came to an abrupt halt. My stomach dropped several inches.
There was someone in the hall.
Tall, broad, and utterly terrifying, the behemoth of a man stared down at me, his face expressionless. His eyes were an icy, unsettling blue, so pale they were almost colorless. His dark hair was cropped short, and a vicious scar slashed diagonally across his face from eyebrow to chin, bisecting it into two otherwise flawless halves. If it weren’t for the scar and those shiver-inducing eyes, he could’ve made a killing as a model with those cheekbones.
My gaze dipped, and a jolt ran through me at the sight of thick red burns twisting around his neck like a rope. Unlike the flat coldness of his stare, the burns seemed to pulse with rage under my scrutiny, as if they were seconds away from leaping off his skin and strangling me.
An answering pressure wrapped around my throat. The amount of pain he must’ve endured to get those scars…
His eyes sharpened into icicles. I expected him to call me out on my admittedly rude staring, but he simply gave Kai a curt nod before stepping around me and disappearing around the corner.
The encounter had lasted less than twenty seconds, yet the icy touch of his glare shivered on my skin.
“Who was that?” Whoever it was, he was definitely a club member—and he’d seen me and Kai exit the piano room together.
My heart thudded with panic.
“Vuk Markovic, better known as the Serb. He doesn’t like people using his given name.” Kai didn’t elaborate, but his tone told me there was more to the story than he was letting on. “Don’t worry about him. He won’t say anything. He keeps to himself.”
I chose to believe him, if only for the sake of my sanity.
I glanced over my shoulder as we walked toward the stairs. The hall was empty, yet I couldn’t shake the chill crawling over the back of my neck—the type you got when someone was watching you.
CHAPTER 16
Kai
I spent my Thanksgiving weekend in a hotel, alternating between work and Isabella. Specifically, fantasizing about Isabella while trying to work.
I had a multibillion-dollar deal on the line, and all I could think about was the woman who’d crashed into my life and blown it into a thousand smithereens.
The kiss. The piano room. The two best and worst decisions of my life.
Even now, days later, my mind echoed with Isabella’s cries as she came all over my hand. I’d attended countless symphonies, orchestras, and performances headlined by the best and brightest in the music world, but no song had ever sounded as sweet.
“You’re not even paying attention.” Dante’s irritated voice sliced through the memory like jagged glass through silk.
“Hmm?”
He threw an exasperated stare my way. “I’m trying to help you, asshole. The least you can do is listen. Isn’t that why we’re having this meeting?”
We’d arranged a brainstorm in his office over lunch. Outside our weekly boxing matches, where we had free rein to pummel each other as much as we liked, we often consulted each other on business matters. Granted, I couldn’t take his advice half the time because his solutions bordered on illegal, but it was nice to have an objective third-party sounding board.
“No. I simply missed your cheerful, optimistic personality.” I lifted my water in a mock toast. “You brighten my day.”
“Fuck off.” He snorted, but a shadow of a smile played over his mouth. “Mishra still refusing to meet with you?”
“So far, but he’ll cave.” Colin Whidby was still in the hospital, but his condition had stabilized.
He’d pull through. The problem was, he wouldn’t be back on his feet for another few months. The longer we waited, the greater the chance of something going wrong.
My team and I had been working around the clock to close the DigiStream deal before the end of the year, but it was looking less and less likely. Rohan Mishra, the other co-founder, was digging his heels in on certain clauses in the contract and refusing to meet in person. One face-to-face meeting was worth a dozen phone calls.
Dammit, Whidby. If he’d kept his nose out of cocaine long enough to sign the papers, we wouldn’t have this problem. If I screwed up this deal, I would be the laughingstock of the business community.
Reputation tarnished. Legacy gone.
My skin itched at the thought.
And yet, despite what was at stake, I couldn’t focus. What happened at Valhalla last week had embedded itself in my psyche like a tree digging its roots into fresh soil. It split my attention, dragging half my mind toward glory and the other toward endless replays of last Wednesday afternoon.
The scent of rose and vanilla. The beautiful flush of Isabella’s skin. The throaty gasp of my name interspersed with her moans.
Heat prickled my skin.
“If you’re really stuck, I know a guy,” Dante said, pulling my attention back to the present again.
“He can dig up information that’ll have Mishra folding in no time.”
Right. Mishra. DigiStream. Focus. “Don’t tell me it’s Harper,” I said with a small grimace.
Christian Harper, the CEO of Harper Security, was Dante’s go-to guy for all things tech and security related. We were acquaintances, but he was closer with Dante, who’d been his first client back in the day and was far more comfortable with his black-hat methods. I preferred staying on the right side of the law. My reputation was stainless, and I intended to keep it that way.
Dante shrugged. “You know he can get the job done.”
I shook my head. “I can handle Mishra on my own.” Frankly, I was a touch insulted he thought I’d have to stoop to blackmail to get the other man to sign.
I didn’t lose. Not when I put my mind to something. One way or another, the DigiStream deal would happen.
“It’s your deal,” Dante drawled. “But don’t say I didn’t give you a solution.”
A knock interrupted us, followed by the soft creak of the door opening.
Dante straightened. I didn’t have to turn to know who’d entered; there was only one person who made his eyes light up like that.
“Hi, Vivian,” I said without looking up from my lunch.
She laughed. “Hi, Kai.”
Dante’s wife came around the desk and bent to give him a kiss on the cheek. He turned his head at the last minute so his mouth caught hers instead. Vivian’s cheeks flushed, and my tuna roll suddenly tasted tooth-rottingly sweet.
“My meeting ended early, so I thought I’d surprise you for lunch,” she said a touch breathlessly.
She placed two white takeout bags on the desk and gave me an apologetic glance as Dante pulled a chair up next to his. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment. I can come back—”