Page 42 of Immoral (Park Avenue Kings #3)

DIMITRI

W ITH OMAR BY my side, I waited inside the lounge of the yacht anchored off a marina in Hamburg, Germany, while my guards stood out front for the men I’d be meeting with.

It’d been two weeks since Benoit left, and I’d thrown myself into work with a vengeance, making deals up and down the Mediterranean Sea and back into Europe.

The distraction had been a welcome one, keeping me even busier than I had been, but Benoit still found his way into my thoughts in the quiet moments in between.

Even now, being on the yacht had my mind drifting back to the night we’d spent on the catamaran. It felt like so long ago now, another world.

I let out a sigh and cracked my neck from side to side, trying not to wonder what Benoit was doing right now. Or who . Fuck, that thought instantly filled me with rage, and when my hands balled into fists, Omar glanced over at me.

“Everything good, boss?”

“Fine.”

The clipped response had him nodding once, and I thought he’d drop it, but then he added, “They seem willing to compromise.”

I didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. My mind had been on a man I couldn’t have, and Omar was focused on this meeting with the Redwater Syndicate. They’d requested to touch base, and the general consensus from our sources was that they were willing to fall in line for a better deal.

Compromise hadn’t been in Giorgos’s nature, but I was willing to try a different approach and hear them out. Let them plead their case.

At least for now.

But this was the last thing I wanted to be doing. Which frustrated the hell out of me, because I’d signed up for this, basically demanded the right to it after overthrowing our leader. But that was before…

And that was how my life felt right now, split in two. Before Benoit, and after.

Before Benoit I knew exactly where my place in this world was and what I had to do to achieve it. I knew the risks and was willing to take them to get to the top. Hell, I had the scars to prove it.

This past month had been about solidifying relationships that Giorgos had damaged and forging new ones that would establish me as the reigning arms dealer despite my mutiny.

I’d been on a mission to demonstrate my ability to provide to products requested and lead my men in a way that made them want to follow, but then something had happened.

Or should I say some one.

From the second Benoit had strutted into my life, establishing my position in this world had taken a back seat to getting to know the enigmatic dancer/spy who’d infiltrated it.

He’d consumed my time, my mind, and my body until the month I’d meticulously planned to woo our international clientele turned into my wooing the gorgeous, multilingual pickpocket.

Talk about a fucking wild card. Never in a million years could I have imagined Benoit. Not for someone like me. Which, in the end, was why I’d let him go.

Not that I’d had much of a choice. He’d run to the helicopter that day, barely given me a look back before climbing inside and slamming the door shut on…what? A possible life of being put in insanely dangerous situations like this?

I scoffed and thought of his aversion to guns, which just so happened to be my bread and butter.

It was probably for the best he’d left.

Probably.

Then why did I feel like absolute shit?

He was better off wherever he was—at least, that was what I tried to tell myself.

I knew he’d been in Manhattan as of a week ago, because that was where the rest of what I owed him was sent.

Knowing he enjoyed a dramatic flair, I hadn’t sent a check, but a trunk full of cash instead, courtesy of my team.

Had I considered making a personal delivery? Yes. I could’ve squeezed it in between stops, and maybe I would’ve if I thought Benoit would want to see me.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in through my nose. Just forget him. Don’t think about the man you fell for—think of the man with bad intentions.

If only it were that easy.

Omar’s radio crackled to life. “They’ve arrived,” one of the guards said.

“Report back when clear,” Omar responded, just as my phone rang inside my jacket pocket.

I pulled it out to turn it to silent when I saw the text from an unknown number.

Probably spam, I thought, opening my messages to delete it.

Unknown Number

Had an incredible lunch AND dinner, so thank$ for that. All that was missing was a scowling monstre.

~Your favorite private dancer, B

My body went hot as I read the message again, then a third time. I should’ve probably been more surprised that he’d gotten my number in the first place, but I’d long since stopped doubting Benoit’s abilities.

Instead, I was more curious why he was reaching out in the first place. I’d never expected to hear from him again. He couldn’t wait to get away from me.

Was it possible he missed me too?

No, that was wishful thinking. But as I read the message for the fourth time, I felt the smallest spark of hope spring to life.

What if…

The crackle of the radio and the guard’s “All clear” had me shoving my phone back inside my jacket pocket and straightening my shoulders.

Omar glanced at me, a dark brow raised like he knew I’d just gotten distracted.

“Do it,” I said, my voice coming out in the sharp, authoritative tone that demanded obedience, even though my insides were now a goddamn mess.

Focus, I told myself as Omar brought his radio to his mouth and barked, “Bring them up.”

As the door to the lounge slid open, I forced all thoughts of Benoit and his text from my mind, and became the monster I needed to get this deal done.