Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
He brushed his mouth very gently over hers a second time and then dropped his hands, although it was difficult not to touch her body when he could feel her hunger for him all over again and his blood pounded through his cock so hard, he thought it might burst.
He strode back across the room, pausing at the door. “Wait for me to bring you home. If you get hungry, text me and I’ll get you something to eat, or we’ll have dinner with Mitya and Ania.”
She shook her head, her hands gripping the edges of the desk until her knuckles turned white. “I’m not that comfortable with them yet.”
He dropped his hand on the doorknob, hating to leave her. Not because she was naked and he wanted her all over again, but because she suddenly looked vulnerable and a little unhappy.
Flambé was very self-sufficient. She didn’t require entertaining. She didn’t ask for much. She hadn’t balked when he told her he wanted her to work from his cousin’s home rather than theirs even though he knew she would be less comfortable. She didn’t object to the bodyguards he sent with her when she went to work on other projects and he couldn’t go.
“You mean Mitya. You and Ania are thick as thieves.” He couldn’t exactly blame her. Mitya hadn’t been that welcoming, although that was because he was worried for Sevastyan.
She shrugged. “Go to work, Sevastyan. I’m perfectly fine. I’m trying to design the indoor garden and it’s a massive project.”
“I thought we were designing that together.”
“We are, but I have to put together the skeleton for it. We need a foundation.”
Sevastyan nodded his head, not entirely certain what she meant. His mind was already on what he needed to do about Franco Matherson. Closing the door behind him softly, he stalked down the wide hall, wondering what the hell he was going to do about her. She was getting to him. He wasn’t so certain he was getting to her. That was the thing about Flambé. She was as elusive as hell.
He set up a security detail to watch over his cousin and those in the residence while he was absent, and he indicated to Kirill and Matvei to accompany him. He wanted to slip away from the Amurov estate without his woman’s knowledge. Her office was at the back of the very large house and unless Ania noticed and mentioned his absence to her, she wouldn’t be the wiser. In any case, he came and went often. She rarely asked, but if she did, he didn’t want to try to lie to her. He would have to tell her the truth and that might not go over very well.
The sun had already set some time ago as they made their way silently through the streets toward the large estate Franco Matherson had leased on the outskirts of San Antonio. They took a roundabout route so if their vehicle was caught on camera, their destination could easily be Evangeline’s bakery or one of the many businesses the Amurov family owned. Sevastyan would make certain to stop somewhere along the way long enough to make it appear as if he had a destination that would hold up in court if necessary.
He had reports on Matherson, none of them good. It seemed to him that the man’s mental condition was deteriorating slowly over time. He had become somewhat of a megalomaniac, much like Sevastyan’s uncle Lazar, who had ruled the lair with such cruelty. He had gotten away with murder so often that he sunk lower and lower over the years, thinking he was entitled to kill anyone who crossed him. That meant that Matherson was doubly dangerous to Flambé, because it made him unpredictable.
“The estate is a few blocks over, Sevastyan. Your club is up two blocks on the left. We could leave the car there, walk to the park and shift and make our way to his home. It’s a little risky because it’s still a bit of a distance and there’s bound to be dogs out, but it’s a cover,” Kirill ventured.
It was a solid plan. He could go in after he took care of business, talk to Cain for a few minutes and then get back to Flambé. “Sounds good. Let’s go for it. But keep your leopards under control. We can’t start killing any animals in the neighborhood no matter how obnoxious they are.” Dogs were always barky around cats. It was more than annoying.
“If you have to spend any time at the club,” Matvei added, “you have your locker there. You can get dressed, wander around and let the cameras pick you up. The fucking cops aren’t going to know what you do or don’t do there.”
That wasn’t a bad idea either. He’d have that for an alibi when Matherson and his bodyguards disappeared and people started asking questions. The cops always came to the Amurovs. Knowing Matherson had been stalking Flambé, they would question Sevastyan straightaway.