I dial Andrei, waiting for him to answer the call. “Mikhail,” Andrei says, recognizing my number. “Did you sleep in? Have a late-night?” he jokes, implying that I slept with Madisyn.
I grumble at his suggestion. “It’s none of your business,” I say with a hasty growl. One hand tightens its grip on the cell phone, the other balls into a fist at my side. “Did you tow her car?” I seethe between gritted teeth.
Andrei and I typically get along. I wouldn’t have reached out to him if we didn’t, but I don’t need him making assumptions because he’s a dick.
“I drove by this morning, but someone else picked it up already,” Andrei says.
“Another towing company?” She had parked it on the side of the road. However, there was a no-parking sign nearby.
“Likely. Anyway, if you want to give me the plate number, I can call around and find out who towed it.”
I throw my dirty clothes in the hamper and head out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind myself. “I’ll text you the plate number as soon as I get it. Thanks, Andrei.” I end the call and head down the stairs toward the study.
Madisyn sits up on the sofa, the blanket bunched around her waist.
“Did you sleep all right?” I ask.
“Yeah, the fireplace kept the room nice and toasty,” she says. She’s holding a steaming hot mug; I assume its coffee. One of my guards must have brought it for her. Her clean clothes are also at the bottom of the sofa, folded and ready to change into.
“What time do you have to work?” I ask. “I can give you a lift in this morning.”
“That isn’t necessary,” she says, her cheeks reddening.
I take a step closer. Why is she blushing? What does she have to hide?
“How else do you plan on getting to work this morning? Unless you have the day off?”
She brings the mug to her lips and takes a sip. “No, I should go in for my shift. I was just hoping the weather was bad enough that I could have the day off.”
“Does that ever happen?” I can’t imagine a nurse gets any time off for weather. Maybe longer shifts when staff has trouble getting into work, but there aren’t snow days or icy road days where the office is closed or opens late.
She smiles into her mug. “Never. Do you mind if I use the bathroom to change?”
“I’d rather you undress in front of me,” I say.
Her eyes crinkle, and she smiles, shaking her head. “One show is your limit. Remember that,” she says and stands.
She takes a swig, finishing the last drop of her coffee before pushing her empty mug at my stomach, forcing it into my hands.
There’s an air about her today, a take no shit kind of attitude that she didn’t show me yesterday. It’s amusing to watch, to see her trying to take control when she has none while under my roof.
I’m in charge in the compound, and everyone damn well knows it.
My men all know it, and everyone who has ever associated with me as bratva understands I’m the boss.
But she’s oblivious to the dark underworld nestled right under her nose. It’s tempting, honestly, to show her a glimpse, a little peek, and see how she reacts.
Like giving her a taste of the forbidden fruit.
Madisyn reaches on the sofa to grab her clothes from the previous day. They’d been shoved into the drier after the deluge, but they’re not the least bit clean.
“I’m going to see myself to the bathroom,” she says. This time I notice that she’s not asking permission. Since clearly, I wasn’t giving her any bit of it.
She’s sassy and quite a bit reckless. But she doesn’t know what she’s up against, who she’s up against.
Which I find both irresistible and hot.
Madisyn brushes past me and heads out of the study and into the hallway. It takes her a second to get her bearings and remember her way around the compound. That’s one of the advantages of having such an enormous home. It’s easy for a new person to get lost.
And I don’t want that to happen because she’s bound to stumble onto something she shouldn’t see.
I have men handling special projects for me, doing interrogations, laundering money, counting stolen goods, making counterfeit documents. It all happens under this roof. Maybe not simultaneously, but there are plenty of illegal drugs and weapons behind the pristine iron fence inside my compound.
She opens her mouth and laughs softly. “I don’t know my license plate number. Am I supposed to?”
“Well, that makes it a little more complicated,” I mutter. My guy tries to do a good deed, and Madisyn is as clueless as can be.
“It has new plates. I just registered the vehicle since I moved here recently. Although it’s not like I ever memorized my license plate in Ohio, either.”
The girl gives off a country vibe. Like she’s waited her entire life to live in the big city.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make a few phone calls,” I say.