Page 35 of Forbidden Boss

“I will,” I say, and head to the elevator.

In the OB-GYN’s lobby, the receptionist asks for insurance, and I hand her my card with a shaky hand. I sit in a chair far from the windows and pull out my phone. I text Thom that I’m in the waiting room and send him a picture of me sitting in the chair, making sure there are no identifiers in the background. For good measure, I throw up my middle finger.

When they call my name, I stand so fast it makes me dizzy. The nurse is kind in that way that makes me want to cry. I follow her into a small room and sit on the crinkly paper.

“What brings you in today?” she asks.

“I’d like to get a pregnancy test,” I tell her. “I took two home tests and they were positive, but I just want to be sure.”

She nods as she scribbles something on her clipboard. “I’ll have the doctor order the tests, and we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

After that, everything happens pretty quickly. I pee in a cup and they draw blood. A few minutes later, a doctor knocks on the door to tell me the urine test was positive and they’ll have the blood test results back within twenty-four hours.

“Thank you,” I say, and I grip the edge of the table until my fingers ache. “Please make sure to use the cell number and not the work number.”

I gave them the cloned number I got from an app. It’s the only way I can be sure Lev can’t listen in on my calls.

“We’ll call the number you gave,” she says softly. “Do you feel safe?”

“Yes,” I lie, because the truth is way too complicated. “I’m okay.”

She hands me a stack of pamphlets that I stuff into the bottom of my purse. Just to make sure none of the guys try to search inside, I grab a handful of tampons from the bathroom and throw them in. They’re the ultimate man deterrent.

I have a lot to think about and a lot of plans to make. If I’m going to successfully get away from Lev, I’ve got to start collecting hard proof of what’s going on in the company so I can use it as leverage.

16

LEV

Ichoose a public place on neutral ground to meet the Kozlov’s. I don’t control the cameras here, but I’ll have my men pull the footage later. I pay the manager handsomely to keep the place closed to the public today. The last thing I need is some tourist overhearing and tweeting about it.

My men sweep the room twice, then take seats with their backs to the wall. Yuri stays at my flank. Two of my newer guys post near the front. The waiter pours water and leaves us alone. I keep my hands on the table so no one misreads my intent.

The Kozlov messenger comes through the door exactly on time. He’s a midlevel thug, not incredibly important to the operation, but not so low that his whereabouts would be questioned. When he sits, he reeks of expensive, douchey cologne. He opens with a smile and a line about friendship. I let him talk until he runs out of breath.

When he’s finished, I lay the ledger pages on the table. I highlight the shell vendors, routing numbers, dates, and amounts. I tell him money is disappearing through a chain thatcould easily be linked back to the Petrovs, though there’s always another explanation.

“If the Kozlovs are stealing my money,” I say, my voice low, “I will not be merciful.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, my friend.” He smirks, satisfied. “None of our men would be stupid enough to start a war with you. It sounds to me like you’ve got an internal problem.”

He reaches for his glass. It rattles on the table. He’s either scared or pretending. I don’t care which.

“You’re lying,” I say. “I think you know exactly who’s stealing from me, and you’re trying to protect them.”

“I have no skin in this game,” he says, hands up in surrender. “But if you have a trust issue in your organization, I’d suggest an outside audit.”

We’re getting nowhere. I do believe he knows nothing, but that doesn’t mean the Kozlovs don’t have a hand in this. I stand to dismiss him, but something is off.

The first wrong note is the kitchen door that should swing and won’t. It sticks for a beat, then opens. Two men step out in server jackets that don’t match the house uniform. Their shoes are too heavy and their haircuts too messy. I clock the difference almost immediately. I shove my chair back with my calf and move right. Yuri’s hand is already under his jacket.

The closest man reaches for his pocket. Oliver, one of my newer men, lifts a plate and smashes it into his hand. The gun skids under a table. The second man goes for me. I meet him halfway and turn his wrist until I hear a crack. He drops to the floor. Athird man I didn’t clock stands from the bar with his jacket open. The weapon is small and black. He aims for my chest. I take one step left, and the shot hits the pillar. Glass bursts behind me. I hear people on the street screaming.

Yuri chops the shooter in the throat with the edge of his hand and follows through. The man goes down and doesn’t get up. Oliver shoves me toward the corridor. We cut through the staff hallway. A cook shouts at us. The fire exit alarm wails. We’re in the alley before the kitchen staff understands what happened.

The SUV is already rolling toward the curb. Oliver yanks the rear door and drags me in by the shoulder. I do a top-to-bottom check. I’m not bleeding. Yuri tumbles in after me, checks my eyes, and nods. He slams the door, a signal for the driver to go. We’re moving before the tires catch.

“What do you want?” Oliver asks.