Page 36 of His Lair

Who doesn’t want to escape to Paris?

I had no doubt that Sammie would turn up to my apartment if I went there. At least he can’t find me in this room I booked. Well, not easily anyway.

I look down at my fingers. They’re wrinkly. I need to get out of this shower. I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here. I do know that someone is waiting for me outside the door. I heard them come in. I just didn’t care. If it’s Sammie, he found me a lot quicker than I thought he would. It could be Emmanuel, but I saw he had his hands full with Evie at the club.

I was about to follow him into the bathroom when I thought better of it. I don’t need Emmanuel knowing how worked up in my head I am over Sammie. I will get over it. Once I figure out why I’m so jealous. It’s his mother. I mean, she must have had him really young, but it’s not impossible. And why wouldn’t he have a gorgeous mother? The man is the very definition of freaking beautiful. Of course he comes from just as good-looking parents.

Turning off the shower, I step out and pick up a towel. I should be worried about who is on the other side of this door. I just don’t have the energy to give a damn. After drying off, I wrap the towel around my torso and pull the door open.

“Ah, ma’am.” The nervousness in Paz’s voice has me rolling my eyes.

“What are you doing in my room?” I ask, stepping through the door.

“Boss wanted me to collect you.” Paz is one of Emmanuel’s higher-ranking guys.

Why the hell did Emmanuel send him to collect me?It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask. I don’t bother, because even if Paz did know, there’s no chance he’s telling me.

“Are you going to watch me get dressed?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No, ma’am. Sorry. I’ll… ah… wait outside,” he says and walks out the door that leads to the hallway.

He’s always been nervous around me. I swear you cut out a man’s tongue once and people think you’re insane. Which is laughable, considering what these men do in those dungeons of theirs. In all fairness to Paz, though, I did cut out that guy’s tongue after he told me I looked fuckable. I was already having a bad day. That idiot just picked the wrong time to speak up.

I get dressed, putting on the same clothes I wore to the club, because I didn’t bring anything else with me. I’d love to be able to go home and change, but I know that’s not going to happen tonight.

Opening the door, I smile at Paz. “Just so you know, if this is you leading me to my would-be death, I will come back and haunt your every waking hour,” I tell him.

His eyes go wide and then he tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes me. “What have you done that would give the boss a reason to kill you, ma’am?”

“Pfft, as if he needs a reason.” I shake my head and start down the corridor. “You coming?” I call over my shoulder, even though Paz is one step behind me.

The car pulls into a fancy-ass estate about an hour outside of the city. And then I’m led in through a side entrance, down a corridor, and into an office.

“Wait here,” Paz says.

“Where would I go?” I smirk at him before spinning in a circle to take in the expanse of the office. “Guess crime does pay. I should try it sometime,” I call out as Paz exits the room.

It takes ten minutes—ten fucking minutes—for Emmanuel to finally grace me with his presence. I’m sipping away at a glass of what I’m sure is really expensive tequila. Not because I like it. Tequila is disgusting, in my opinion. But because I was bored, and I wasn’t about to get caught snooping around a cartel leader’s office. Helping myself to his liquor seemed like the much safer choice.

“Enjoying yourself?” Emmanuel asks, closing the door behind him.

I shrug while kicking my legs back and forth. “Sure.”

“Get off my fucking desk, Lailani,” he growls. He walks around and sits himself on the chair on the other side.

I jump down and sit in one of the chairs in front of him. “You summoned me?”

“No one summons you.” He lifts a brow at our usual song and dance.

“You seem to. Quite often actually. What do you need?”

“Can’t a friend just want to check in with a friend?” he asks me.

I roll my eyes. We are not having this conversation again. “E, are you lonely? Do we need to schedule lunch dates or something?”

“The woman you saw tonight. She’s his mother,” he says.

“I know,” I tell him.