Page 14 of Forbidden Boss
That’s what all his magazine interviews say, anyway. I’ve been obsessively researching him since Agent Cole showed up at my house. Nothing in any of hisForbesinterviews reveals who he really is. This place is probably a closely guarded secret, and I’ve just stumbled into the belly of the beast.
“This is a family home,” the man says, his tone detached.
I follow him through the massive house until we stop at a set of double doors. He knocks twice, sharp, then turns to me, his stance defensive. I understand now that this man is some kind of guard. A quick glance reveals a bulge at his side that I’m sure is a gun.
My pulse hammers under my skin, but I take a breath and pretend this is all completely normal. The door opens. I square my shoulders and walk through.
It takes me a moment to realize that I’m standing in a kitchen. Bright lights gleam off spotless stainless-steel surfaces.
“Mari,” Lev says kindly, his demeanor a complete one-eighty from the last time I saw him in his office. “I thought we could have this talk somewhere more private.”
A laugh tears out of me, almost hysterical.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to have this conversation on the moon?” I quip. “It might have taken less effort to get there.”
He smirks and holds up a bottle of wine for my approval. “Is white okay? If not, I can send someone down to the cellar and pick out something else. I also have liquor if you’d prefer.”
I’m not sure if he’s goading me or just genuinely trying to be a good host. It’s all very unsettling.
“White is fine.” I shrug and approach a huge prep table to accept the glass from him.
He leads me out of the kitchen and into a huge dining room. It’s set only for two, with lit candles on the table. Salmon, roasted potatoes, and a fresh caprese salad greet me when I sit down.
“You cook?” I ask, caught off guard.
“I burn water.” He chuckles. “I have an excellent chef who lets me choose the menu.”
I nod, because that’s the first thing that’s made sense in the last hour. He likes to be in control. That’s no surprise.
“Do you actually live here, or do you just bring people here to intimidate them?”
“I grew up here,” he says. “And sometimes I spend a weekend or two when I need to get out of the city. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Private.”
His eyes drop to my mouth before meeting mine. A shiver runs down my spine because I remember exactly how his lips felt on mine, and despite my apprehension about this entire situation, I suddenly want nothing more than to feel them again.
I shake my head to clear it and pick up my fork, but I don’t take a bite until he does. I think I’m being subtle, but he smiles again. It’s such an odd look for him.
“You would do well in the Bratva,” he says quietly. “You’re naturally distrustful. But you don’t have to worry, Mari, I didn’t bring you here to poison you.”
“Then why did you bring me?” I ask bluntly.
He sets his fork down and wipes his mouth before meeting my gaze with his sharp, ice-blue eyes. I feel glued to the spot.
“Because I’m going to tell you the truth,” he says evenly. “You have carte blanche to ask whatever you want, and I will answer honestly.”
“And then you’ll kill me?” I say, only half-joking.
“No, Mari,” he answers with a condescending smile. “I’m not going to kill you. No one in my organization is going to lay a finger on you. But I do need you to understand that if you share any of this information with anyone, including Agent Cole, I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“You wouldn’t be able to guarantee my safety anyway,” I say thoughtfully.
“Precisely.” He nods. “So, ask away.”
“You’re really a mob boss?” I cut to the chase.
He takes a sip of wine, watching me carefully. “Apakhan,” he finally answers. “That’s what we call it in the Bratva. And Bratva is the Russian version of the mob.”
“So yes?” I ask petulantly.