As I battle my subconscious on whether I should accept Justine’s offer to use the Popov kitchen or encourage her to use the backup catering firm I booked in case I have to renege on her offer, Nero steers his bike down a street several clicks up from the Popov mansion.
The road is dark and eerily quiet. There doesn’t seem to be a single soul present… until the flashes of Nero’s headlight switches on a hundred bulbs.
The outside of the building we slowly pull up to seems industrial, almost warehouse chic, but the cars and bikes outside and its internal features scream millionaire’s lair.
I’ve heard there is a lot of money in the drug trade. I wouldn’t have believed it until now. The wealth on display is crazy, and it makes me suddenly envious I took the straight and boring route instead of testing the stretch of people’s leniencies.
I was born to be a rebel but settled for second best because I thought it was the right thing to do.
That’s done with now.
After dismounting his bike more awkwardly than he straddled it, not wanting to accidentally kick me, Nero tosses his keys to a man with a gun strapped to his chest, before he lifts me off his bike. He once again makes it seem as if I am the weight of a feather.
When we head toward a group of men with obvious sneers and an array of dangerous weapons, only a micro part of me is scared.
This is far from the stuffy business get-togethers Roy never let me attend during our tumultuous marriage, but it has me more excited than terrified.
This is an equivalent of a workplace visit for Nero, and I’m delighted he’s already reached a stage where he’s happy to include me inanypart of his life, let alone something obviously important to him.
The way he speaks of the Popov crew and his clear respect for its current heir makes it obvious these men and women are his family. He cares for them as much as he does his mother—and as I hope he one day will me.
As we enter the warehouse, we’re awarded the eyes of everyone in the facility, including a handful of extremely skinny and practically naked women.
They’re gorgeous, and for the first time in my life, I don’t mentally chastise them. I return their smiles and revel in their confidence of loving the skin they’re in.
With his hand curled around mine, his eyes nowhere near the numerous pairs of naked breasts, Nero asks, “Where’s Eight?”
A man with a scruffy blond beard and numerous tattoos and piercings nudges his head to the right. “Doing inventory on stock we just acquired.”
Nero jerks up his chin in thanks to a man with a British accent instead of the preferred Russian/American accent of the rest of the crew, before he heads in the direction he nudged.
He doesn’t even get three steps away before the unease the man’s thick beard can’t hide slows his steps. “Do you think this is a good idea? Nikolai said only this morning that the investigation is still ongoing.”
Neropfftsoff his first sentence, but he struggles to ignore his second. “And I told Nikolai this afternoon that she hasnothingto do with that.”
So that’s who his heated conversation was with this afternoon.
Since his call seemed work based, I stepped back and kept myself busy. Only once it was done, and Nero was on the verge of exploding in anger, did I fumble into the role of caregiver as he has done for me numerous times whenever my confidence dipped below unbearable the past week.
Nero grips my hand so firmly that I almost yelp when the blond retaliates. “Do you think you’re the best man to make that assessment? We’re not meant to fuck the enemy, Nero. We’re meant to destroy them.”
Enemy?
Nero’s smirk is menacing, and it pushes my inquiries as to my status in his life to the back of my head. “You, of all people, are judging my idea of what is right and wrong. Did you forget the little incident that occurred K’s first night here?”
I don’t know who K is, but the blond sure as hell does, and he isn’t happy she’s been brought into this fight. “Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth.”
The bearded man looks set to rip Nero’s head off with his bare hands, and I’m not the only one noticing. The crowd circles in close, hogging the premium seats.
Nero doesn’t seem worried.
He looks like he has a ton of steam to burn off, and his target is locked and loaded.
I learn why when he spits out, “When you were lighting up her temple bright enough for everyone in Vegas to mistake it as the northern star, did she look like she had been here before, Trey? Did she have any fucking clue that you had the scope of your sniper locked on her fucking head likeIdid?”
Trey remains quiet, his expression a mix of peeved and pleased.
I tighten my fingers around Nero’s hand before he can race across the concrete to force an answer from Trey, compelling him to use words instead. “Answer me! Did she look like she had been here before, or have any indication of the danger I was placing her in by trying to show you bunch of neanderthals that she isn’t like the rest of them?”
