Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

W hen I tug open Zoe's front door, I'm expecting the Uber Eats delivery guy. What I'm not expecting is to find a couple of pissed off looking Russians staring back at me.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" one of them, Ivan I think, asks.

Folding my arms over my shirtless chest, I smirk and raise one eyebrow at him in question. Really, fucker? You need me to spell out what I'm doing half-naked in my girlfriend's apartment. "I could ask you the same thing."

"We're here to check on Zoe. Where is she?"

"Asleep."

"You can either move out of our way, or I'll be more than happy to move you myself," the one I'm certain is Ivan says.

"Try it." I shrug a shoulder, refusing to budge a single step.

"What's going on?" I turn to find Zoe padding barefoot down the stairs with nothing but a thin silk robe covering her body.

"You have visitors," I tell her while slamming the door shut. "You should really put some clothes on before you let ?em in."

"You just opened the door with no shirt on and your pants aren't even done up," Zoe says, trailing her eyes up and down my body.

"Yeah, pretty sure your Russian friends aren't checking me out, babe. You, on the other hand? Well, they're guys and you're hot as fuck. They're most certainly checking you out."

Zoe smiles at me. "You think I'm hot?"

"Insanely,"

"Don't worry, those guys are not checking me out. They're family." Zoe shoves past me and heads towards the door.

"Unless they're blind, they're checking you out," I tell her. Then I lean forward and whisper in her ear, "I can see your nipples through your robe, babe. If they see them too, I'll gouge their eyes out."

Shivers run through her body. Then she turns abruptly. Her hands land on my chest and she pushes me backwards. "I'll be right back," she says before running up the stairs.

By the time I turn around again, the front door is opening and the two fucking Russians help themselves inside Zoe's house like they own the place. They're way too fucking comfortable here. "You find anything on the shooter?" the one who isn't Ivan asks me.

The shooter being the fucker who shot up the restaurant Zoe and I were in a month ago, the same asshole who put a bullet through Dominic's arm. I haven't been able to find out shit about them or who they were aiming for.

At first, I thought it was me, but there's been nothing since the incident. If someone were after me, or any De Bellis, they would have tried again. I've looked into it being an attack on Dom or Lucy too, seeing as both are heirs to well-known billionaire families. I couldn't find anything to suggest the attack was on them either.

There's a small chance it could be random. Some punk-ass fuckers who were bored and thought they'd fill the time by shooting up a restaurant. I highly fucking doubt that's the case, though. I don't believe in coincidences.

"Nothing. You?" I ask, knowing full well they're also looking.

"Nothing. Boss wants her shadowed until we either find them or find out what they were after," Ivan says.

"You think they were targeting Zoe?" My blood goes cold. I've considered the possibility. I'd be an idiot not to have. She's connected to the Pakhan of the motherfucking Bratva. Mikhail Petrov would have a list of enemies a mile long.

Ivan shrugs while offering little more than a noncommittal grunt. I look to the other guy who does much the same.

"Right, I'll find out myself then."

I walk upstairs and find Zoe in the bedroom, where she's pulling a sweater over her head. She's already wearing a pair of jean shorts. "I know I told you to put clothes on. But, fuck, do I prefer you out of them."

"Well, let me find out what they're doing here so I can get rid of them and then you can work on getting me naked again." Zoe leans up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine before pulling away from me far too fucking quickly.

"Can I borrow your phone?" I ask her.

"Yeah, it's on the bedside table. Code is one-two-one-three."

"Thanks." I wait until she's halfway down the stairs before I unlock her screen and find the number for the person I'm looking for. I glance at the time and briefly consider not calling. It's a thought that flies out the window as swiftly as I can tap the green button next to his name.

"Zoe, everything okay?" he answers after a couple of rings.

"Petrov, it's Marcel," I tell him.

"Where's Zoe?"

"She's fine. She's downstairs with Dumb and Dumber. What do you know about the shooting that happened before Zoe left for New York?"

"What should I know?" Mikhail answers my question with a question.

"If you know something, then I want to know it too. If there's even an inkling that Zoe's in any kind of danger, I need to fucking know," I growl into the phone.

"Watch your mouth. The only reason you're still breathing is because Zoe wants you to be. Don't make me break her heart by changing that."

"I need to know what kind of danger she's in," I repeat, ignoring his threats that I know are anything but empty.

"If I thought she was in any real danger, I never would have let her go back. My guys are there as a precaution," he says.

"If I find out that someone is after her because of you, there won't be enough Russians in the world to save you," I hiss at him.

Mikhail laughs, as if my words are nothing but a joke to him. Then again, he doesn't know me. "Good talk, Marcello," he says before the call is disconnected.

"Bastard." I throw Zoe's phone down on the bed and head downstairs to find her. It doesn't take long. She's in the kitchen with Mikhail's men. Zoe looks up at me as she bites into a slice of pepperoni pizza. There're two pizza boxes on the counter. No idea where they came from or what's taking our Uber Eats guy so long to get here, but she's eating so I don't fucking care.

I walk around the counter and stand behind Zoe, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body up against mine. I press a light kiss to her temple while eyeing Mikhail's men, who look anything but impressed by my public display of affection.

Zoe, however, seems oblivious to their scowls. Once her mouth isn't full anymore, she says something in Russian that has the two idiots chuckling. "What'd I miss over the last month?" she directs to them before I can ask her what everyone's laughing about and then she looks to me. "Eat some pizza."

"That isn't pizza, babe. That's fast food's attempt at pizza," I tell her as my glare lands on the Pizza Hut boxes.

"It's good, though," she says, taking another bite into her slice.

"Irina left the club," Ivan says, and Zoe gasps. I have no idea who the fuck Irina is so I keep quiet.

"Why'd she leave?"

"No idea. Something about moving onto bigger and better things." Ivan shrugs.

"Huh, maybe I should call her."

"Who is Irina?" I ask Zoe.

"She was one of the dancers at the club. Nice girl."

"You hang out with strippers often?" I lift a questioning brow.

"If they're my friends, then yes," Zoe says. "But so do you. I know you and your brothers own a few of your own clubs around town."

"Owning a club or two and hanging out with strippers are not the same thing," I tell her. "I don't befriend the staff."

"Seriously? You've never once ever befriended the staff?" Zoe annunciates the word while wiggling her eyes up and down.

"Not even once," I reply. "Scout's honour. Strippers don't do it for me."

"Were you ever a boy scout? I don't see you being part of group activities."

"Not exactly, but I did my fair share of hunting and knot tying." Probably not the type a boy scout would do.

"Right. Well, thanks for the pizza, guys. But I'm exhausted and going back to bed. You two can show yourself out." Zoe points at the Russians before turning back to me. "You need your shirt before you leave, but thanks for coming over to check on me."

I blink at her. Does she seriously think she's kicking me out right now? Not fucking happening. "Anytime, babe," I say while following her out of the kitchen. When we make it to her bedroom, I hear the front door shut.

Zoe climbs onto her bed. "I'm sorry I'm not better company. I'm just really tired." She yawns.

"You are the best company even if you're asleep," I reply, walking over before dropping my pants and climbing onto the bed.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Getting into bed." I shift to one side and hold my arm out for her. "Come on, lie down with me."

"You want to sleep with me?"

"I always want to sleep with you, Zoe." The hidden innuendo isn't lost on her. Zoe's cheeks turn pink as she rests her head in the crook of my shoulder. My arm wraps around her back. "I'm really fucking glad you're home," I tell her while kissing the top of her head.

"Me too," she says.