The day passed in a blur of conferences and sifting through reports. I hadn't left the building once. Not that I needed to.
Everything that required my notice was in front of me—contracts to be signed, financial reports to approve, feedback from my men. Paperwork had its role to play in this world, after blood and bullets.
I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest. Some men existed for the chaos of the streets, doing business with a gun. Others preferred strategy, working from behind the scenes.
I did both.
At past noon, the house was buzzing. Associates had dropped by and said their goodbyes.
Most of the meetings were held by Stefanos since I had no desire to attend.
No need to endure one more cycle of pleasantries while everything of value already lay on the page. Moreover, men enjoyed speaking too much where I was concerned—testing the limits, determining where they were at.
A total waste of my time.
Dragon had shown up in the afternoon, with his usual flat brief. "The Russian agreement is in place. The Romanians are asking for a meeting. And the Naples supplier is getting nervous."
"Then remind him why he shouldn't," I responded without looking up.
His only response was a nod. There were no further questions.
Now, as darkness began to replace the shine, I closed the last folder on my desk and exhaled slowly. The day had been productive.
And yet, my mind was elsewhere the entire time.
Leila.
I hadn't seen her all day. Not even when the maid came to inform me that she hadn't eaten since morning.
I pushed back from my chair and rose, rolling my shoulders. It was time to get back with her.
Leila walked in on me already waiting for her in her bedroom. She folded her arms, looking stubborn as ever. She seemed ready for a fight. A part of me wanted to comply.
Instead I released a steady breath. "You haven't eaten today."
She didn't blink. "Wasn't hungry."
Liar.
The pale gauntness of her cheekbones, the almost imperceptible shift of her weight—her body had betrayed her. She was starving, and yet she still held onto this fantasy of control.
"Starving yourself won't make me let you go," I told her. My voice was gentle, authoritative.
A harsh laugh burst from her lips. "Who said anything about letting me go? That's not what this is about."
I regarded her. She was done fighting me, now she was punishing herself. The thought irritated me more than it should.
I had broken men twice her size, men who had more to lose. But Leila... she wasn't breaking. At least, not like I'd imagined.
I sighed and rubbed my jaw. "I don't have time for this."
She was waiting for me to be on my way. I could tell by the angle of her chin, readying herself for another victory.
I gestured toward the door.
The moment Nicolai stepped inside, I saw it—the flicker of recognition in her eyes. Her defenses went up immediately, her body tensing.
Good.
