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“You know how it started.” I swallow, trying to wet my dry throat. “And who started it.”

He looks at me. “I do.”

At least a million dollars’ worth of damage. The whole building will need to be taken down and reconstructed.

But the rebuild is nothing compared to the actual issue.

I drop my phone onto my desk on my way to the stereo system in the corner. Every muscle in my neck and back is tied into impossible knots.

The needle falls easily into the record groove, and the comforting crackle of vinyl soothes my soul. After grabbing a whiskey, I drop into an armchair near the fireplace, resting my head back and letting the music massage the stress from my body.

A soft click of the door closing alerts me to her arrival. I don’t need to turn to know it’s her; I can feel her.

Whenever Mira is near, my body goes on alert. My soul wakes up.

It’s unnerving.

I grip my glass tighter, taking a long sip as she quietly makes her way over to me.

She’s been left to herself since we arrived home from Kaz’s. Oddly, she’s been quiet.

It was a dirty trick, making her think Max was going to have to cut into his arm as retribution for not following orders. She might now think I wouldn’t make him to such a thing, but she’d be wrong. I’d take every one of his fingers if he disobeyed an order to keep her safe while I was away.

And he’d do the same to any member of his own crew who went against his orders.

“You’re really into opera, huh?” Mira sinks onto the love seat opposite me.

She’s wearing a deep purple, oversized night shirt with the neckline ripped out. It hangs off her right shoulder, showing off creamy skin that I’ve thought about all fucking day.

Running my tongue over it. Biting it. Turning it red with well-placed smacks to her perfect ass with my palm until she’s wiggling with pleasure over my knee.

I take another sip, hoping the liquor will burn away some of the desire I have for this woman.

“I guess it’s on brand for you.” She picks the lid of thecrystal candy dish on the coffee table between us and glances inside at the butterscotch candies inside.

“On brand?” I find myself asking.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re a fancy guy.” She slides off the couch and wanders around my office.

The hem of the nightshirt rides up as she moves, allowing me to get a glimpse at the gentle curves of her thighs and ass. There’s a pinhead sized freckle just below where the hem hits her thigh. I want to lick that freckle.

I clear my throat to bring myself back on topic.

“Fancy?”

“Expensive. I mean you have a lot of money, so it makes sense. It’s just given your profession, I didn’t expect you to like so much fancy stuff. Like crystal dishes and operas. That’s all.”

“You expected me to live in a one room apartment with beer cans scattered around and empty whiskey bottles filing my trash can?” I keep my eyes on her while she looks through the bookshelf.

She finds the row of photo albums and pulls one from the shelf. My body tenses, and I almost tell her to put it back. But she carries it back to the couch with her with such innocent curiosity, I decide to let her look.

If I’m going to have a life with her, she should know everything. The past. The present. What the future will hold.

Sasha had a point this afternoon.

There are times I’m away on a job for weeks at a time. She’ll be on her own here. If I can’t trust her to allow the protections I have in place to work, how can I keep her safe?

With her legs folded beneath her, she rests the photo album on her lap. I watch, captivated by her expressions as she flips through the first few pages of black and white photographs of my childhood home back in Russia.