Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

VIVIAN

I wasn't super high. There were no dancing aliens.

I was just high enough to have zero filter and to find everything funny. It was like my mind was surrounded by cotton candy. I could hear myself about to say something but couldn't quite get through all the pink, fluffy, sugary goodness to stop myself.

It was wonderful.

I felt so in the moment .

Everything around me was in soft focus. There was no stress, no worries, no dead bodies, no threatening Russians.

Well, there was one threatening Russian.

My head swiveled back to stare at Var's profile while he drove.

He really had the most deliciously dark kind of raw sexual appeal. All those hot tattoos and big muscles.

Var tossed me a quick grin before focusing back on the road. "Thanks, beautiful. I'm a fan of you, too."

I slapped my hand over my mouth. My words were muffled by my palm. "Crap. Did I say all that out loud?"

"You sure did."

"Can I take it back?"

He winked as he playfully growled, "Absolutely not."

We pulled into the Four Monks parking lot.

This time instead of taking the elevator that led to the main lobby and his public office, he hustled me into a different, private elevator. I watched in awe as he typed out a seemingly endless entry code onto a tiny pad.

As he ushered me into the elevator, I rested my head against his chest. "I'm hungry."

I always got the munchies as my high wore off. It was like my body tried to hold on to the fun feeling by consuming fried foods and sweets.

The doors opened to a posh penthouse suite. My mouth dropped open. "Is this where you live?"

He tossed his car keys onto a massive claw-footed marble table in the center of the octagon entranceway. "Yes, and no. I own the Queen Anne Townhouse next door as well, but I spend half my time here because it's convenient."

Leaning heavily against the table, I pulled off one painful high heel then tried to pull off the other as I kept swaying. "More convenient than right next door?"

He placed a steadying arm around my waist as he pulled off my shoe. "Empty houses can be lonely places."

I rested my head against his shoulder as I sighed. "I know. My parents weren't around much when I was growing up. I hated rattling around in that stupid empty house by myself."

It was why I'd turned to painting at a young age. There was something definitely lonely about a solitary hobby. By painting, I could convince myself that being alone was a choice.

He kissed the top of my head. "For me, it was different. I grew up in a small community with a large family filled with cousins and second cousins and third cousins. Half the time the floor of my bedroom was covered with mats and sleeping bags where my cousins and friends would sleep, rather than heading home. I guess I just got used to all the noise and chaos."

Closing my eyes, I smiled as I leaned into him. "That sounds nice."

"It was," he whispered against my hair. "Still hungry?"

My eyes sprang open as I clutched my stomach. "Starving!"

He gestured with a nod. "This way."

His kitchen was part of an open floor plan connected with a gorgeous living room space that all shared a wall of arched windows overlooking the sleepy, tree-lined street of Gold Coast Chicago.

I climbed up onto the barstool at the kitchen island. "Have anything to drink?"

"Yes, coffee."

My nose wrinkled. "Buzz kill."

"What do you want to eat?"

"What do you have?"

He opened his refrigerator. It was empty. As in literally empty.

"Did you have a power outage?"

With a shrug, he closed the door. "I usually eat downstairs in the restaurant."

"What about when you bring women home?"

With his hands leaning on the kitchen island, he tilted his head and gave me a strange look. "I don't."

His answer caused a flutter in my stomach. It was probably the pot, I convinced myself, even though I was sobering up by the minute. The cotton candy was dissipating.

Anxiety, anger, and panic were creeping along the edges of my consciousness. I could feel the cold darkness as it tried to overtake the rosy glow I was so desperately trying to hold onto.

"So you're not going to be all sexy by making me some traditional Mongolian or Russian dish?"

Raising his arms, he said, "Afraid not. But I do place a pretty sexy phone call down to my chef."

Clapping my hands, I swung my feet under the barstool seat. "Deal. I want a banana split."

He raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

"A banana split with extra cherries."

"What the hell is a banana split?"

I hopped off the barstool and moved around the island to place both my palms against his chest. "Oh, my God, you're so freaking strong…" I tilted my head back. "And tall."

Giving myself a mental shake, I focused. "What was I saying? Oh, yeah! A banana split is the greatest thing ever." I counted off on my fingers. "There are bananas, of course. And vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream, hot fudge sauce, fresh strawberries, and a cherry on top. Now some people add pineapple and this weird, crushed walnut sauce, but that's gross. Oh, and it has lots of whipped cream."

He picked up the phone. "Get me the chef."

As he ordered the banana split, I leaned against his arm and rose onto my toes to talk into the phone receiver. "Extra cherries and no gross walnuts!"

Var laughed. "Did you get that? Good. Send up a carafe of strong coffee and a club sandwich as well."

I clapped my hands again. "Oh, and pretzels! Ice cream is so much better when you eat it with pretzels."

"And pretzels."

He hung up the phone and swept me into his arms.

"What are you doing?"

With a wink, he said, "I want to get out of this suit, and I don't trust you alone in the kitchen."

I rolled my eyes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "It's not like I'd start a fire or anything."

He raised an eyebrow and just looked at me.

My eyes widened. "Oh, yeah. Well, it's not like I'd start another fire. There are no lit candles."

He tossed me onto the center of his bed and turned as he shrugged out of his suit coat and headed into a walk-in closet. "You really are a treasure, krasivaya ."

I leaned back onto the black silk coverlet. Spreading my fingers as I swept my arms over the cool fabric, I called out, "Well, suck up all this adorableness now, because this high is already wearing off, and I'm pretty sure I'm pissed at you."

He emerged from the closet in a pair of jeans with his chest bare.

I was instantly disappointed as he tossed a soft, gray T-shirt over his hard abs as he approached the bed.

Placing a knee on the mattress, he leaned over me. "Really? You think it's possible you're angrier than I am right now?"

The pink cotton candy disintegrated into a gritty gummy mess in my mind. Leaning up on my elbows, I focused on his dark, sapphire gaze. "What do you have to be angry about? I'm the one who got dragged out of a club in front of my friends while I was having fun. Hey, what were you doing there, anyway? Were you following me?"

He pushed my hair back, exposing my bare shoulders from the silver glitter top I was wearing. "Yes."

Both of my eyebrows rose. "Yes?"

He ran his mouth along my neck, flicking his tongue over my earlobe. "Yes."

I rolled out of his reach and sat up on the bed. "You can't just say yes and leave it at that."

Kneeling on the bed, he yanked on my ankles, pulling my legs between his before straddling me. "We can discuss your behavior tomorrow."

He lifted the hem of my shirt and kissed the sensitive skin just above my jeans' waistband.

My fingers pushed into his hair and pulled his head up away from my body. "My behavior?"

He rolled to the side so that I was now straddling him. "It's not your fault. You didn't know the rules."

He unbuttoned my jeans.

I re-buttoned them. "I'm sorry, what rules?"

He unbuttoned them again before his warm hands wrapped around my middle, pushing my jeans lower. "Obviously, I will not tolerate my woman getting high in public at some fucking club."

I jabbed my finger into the center of my chest. "Your woman? You're not seriously talking about me, are you?"

His fingers pushed into the open waistband of my jeans as he wrenched me forward until I fell across his chest. "Who the hell else do you think I'm talking about?"

"I'm not your woman. I'm your secretary."

"I thought you preferred assistant."

"Don't change the subject." I gestured between us. "We are not a thing. This is not a thing."

Something itched the back of my mind, trying to claw to the surface.

Anxiety, anger, and panic.

Something was wrong… something about Var.

If I could just focus…

Then the elevator pinged.

"My banana split!"