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“Miss Wolfe.” Den gives me a polite smile.

I nod in acknowledgement and then jerk my chin at the box. “What is this?”

“Oh,” Den says, his cheeks flushing and his hand going to the back of his neck nervously. “I uh, I owed Harv for a…favour.”

I frown because that obviously didn’t answer my question at all.

“Got ourselves some homemade chocolate cake for dessert tonight,rainha.” Harvey smirks at me.

I blink at him, digesting that information while he turns back to my bartender.

“Thanks for this man.” He shakes the duffle in his other hand. “I appreciate it.”

“No worries. Thankyou.” Den looks at him with exaggerated sincerity and Harvey just laughs as he walks away.

“What’s with the bag?” I ask when we’re alone.

He looks down at it. “Well, if I’m going to keep staying with you, I need some spare clothes.”

“I beg your pardon. Who says you’re staying with me?”

“I do.” He shrugs and starts walking.

“Harvey—” I start following him.

“I would feel a lot more comfortable being close to you and the girls right now. Making sure you’re all safe until we know more about the situation. Don’t fight me on this,rainha.”

But I want to. His proximity does stupid things to my brain and my body, living with him would be maddening. But then there’s that warm feeling spreading out from my chest to my limbs at the thought of having Harvey around more. That stops me from telling him no and makes me follow him when he continues toward the exit.

18

ANNIKA

"Back to the house?” Harvey asks as he slides into the driver’s side of my Bugatti at the end of the day. I don’t actually care for fast cars, but there’s something about the sleek lines and gentle rumbling of a powerful engine beneath me that makes me feel good. Also, when the misogynistic, loud-mouthed pricks that I sometimes deal with see me arriving in a high-performance speed machine, they get the message that my dick is bigger than theirs.

I think for a second about the girls waiting in my home and make a decision. “No. Take me to Brunel’s.”

I can see his brows raise, he doesn’t say anything, but I can feel judgement pouring off him and staining my Chanel suit. He isn’t happy that I’m keeping two children in my house who he believes should be handed over to the government, and now he thinks I’m avoiding them to go shopping. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I should let the silence fester and show him how little I worry over his loudly unspoken opinions.

“The girls have no clothes but the rags they wore and ill-fitting borrowed t-shirts. They will be more comfortable in something new, clean and unburdened with holes.” I stretch myneck out, uncomfortable with the feeling of needing to justify myself and look out the window so as not to witness any further facial expressions of the man beside me, but I catch his slight frown before I turn away.

We travel for a little over ten minutes before we enter the high-end retail sector of the city, located dead in the centre. It’s a grey area for the four crime leaders to be in this area of town. We all operate in our own quarter of the capital and although the boundary lines do reach all the way to the centre, our own businesses don’t usually reach this far in. And the business that’s here doesn’t show loyalty to any of the four organisations.

Brunel’s department store is the height of luxury and opulence and it’s where I buy most of my wardrobe because it’s easy and has everything. I tell Harvey to park just outside the front entrance, which is clearly marked as a no parking zone. When my Jimmy Choos hit the pavement, the doorman rushes over.

“Miss Wolfe, how wonderful to see you again.” He holds a black umbrella over my head, but it’s barely spitting and after giving him a polite nod, I make my way to the large gold framed doors. Harvey reluctantly passes the keys to the second doorman, who will move my car somewhere appropriate and bring it back round when the staff are ready to bring my purchases out for me.

When I can hear Harvey’s heavy footsteps behind me, I push through the door into the main foyer, which is bracketed by rows of luxury makeup and perfume stands. The smell is overwhelming. Sweet and musky. Everything is bright and well lit, shiny and sparkling. It’s busy. I don’t usually have to deal with crowds, any other time I would have called in advanced and paid a substantial surcharge to have the store kept open after hours so I can go through and point out to my personal shopperwhich items I want, and she has my size delivered to my car. I’m usually in and out within an hour.

Paying no mind to Harvey behind me, I stride to the elevator and push the button. I’m grateful there are already people inside when the doors open and they don’t get out, so I don’t have to be alone with Harvey in a windowless, confined space. We stand at the front, the existing passengers behind us and Harvey moves so he’s slightly further back, putting himself between me and anyone else. But because of the size of this tiny elevator in this old building, he is pressed close, his body plastered to the back of mine. A strange feeling erupts on my skin. Goosebumps.

“What floor?” Harvey’s voice is even closer than I anticipated, and it causes a tight clench in my belly.

“What?” I turn my head and come nose to nose with him, his hot breath on my cheek and those pesky bumps spread all the way down my arms.

“Which floor are we travelling to,rainha?” He jerks his chin toward the panel on the wall and I realise I haven’t pressed the button. The fourth-floor button is lit up, which I’m guessing is for the other people in this stifling little box.

I stab the button for the sixth floor where the personal shopping service is and try to expel the butterflies that have taken flight in my belly. When the others alight, Harvey leans on the side wall, with his hands in his pockets, putting much needed space between us. I keep my gaze on the closed elevator doors, but I can feel his eyes on me, burning the side of my face. When the doors part on our desired floor, I let out a deep breath I was definitely aware I’d been holding and let my muscles unbunch. Walking straight to the desk of Leslie, my usual personal shopper, I’m pleased to see that she doesn’t have a client with her. She looks up as I approach, and the shock is evident on her face.