Page 11 of Imperial: The Corvidae Family

Chapter

Seven

Baylyn.

My day started with another reminder that Emir wasn’t going anywhere.

He sent breakfast, which had me grinning for most of the morning while I remained busy with back-to-back calls, email chains that seemed never ending, and a handful of client requests that had me questioning why I didn’t just quit everything and move to an island and become a beach bum.

I barely left my office, only escaping for a coffee refill before diving back into work, but now it was lunchtime and my stomach was making sure I didn’t ignore it.

I sighed, tapping my pen against my desk, debating my options. I could grab something from the Sandwich Shop or just suffer through another protein bar and call it a day. But before I could decide, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” I called, sitting up.

Cami pushed the door open with a large brown paper bag in her hand, the scent of fried perfection drifted through my office.

“Delivery for you,” she said, arching a brow. “Smells good as hell too.”

I frowned, glancing at the logo. Wingz Spot. One of my favorites.

Emir.

I smiled big as shit.

Cami set the bag on my desk. “Judging by that reaction, I’m guessing this wasn’t something you ordered?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” She crossed her arms, watching me with curiosity. “Mysterious, handsome benefactor sending you lunch now and does he have an equally mysterious handsome family member who’s willing to send me lunch?”

I ignored the heat that crept up my neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

I sighed, opening the bag. Ten honey lemon pepper wings, extra crispy. Seasoned fries. Ranch on the side. Exactly how I ordered them every time.

This was twice now.

The breakfast delivery that had shown up at my door with an order of avocado toast, a green smoothie, and a cappuccino from my favorite café.

No note or message. Just a guy waiting for me when I stepped outside.

He knew my schedule, specifically the time I left the house, which was also unnerving.

Oddly enough though I didn’t fear Emir. Probably should have but didn’t.

And now this.

I glanced at my phone, debating if I should even acknowledge it and groaned, grabbing the device and opening my messages.

Me: You really have to stop this.

Emir: Stop what?

Me: Feeding me.

Emir: Your ass stays busy. I’m just making sure you don’t pass out at work.

I was already reaching for a fry.

Me: I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.

Emir: Nah, you be slacking. Bet you were about to eat a dry ass granola bar or bag of chips and call that shit lunch.

…He wasn’t wrong.

I sighed, taking a bite of a wing, annoyed at how satisfying it was.

Me: Still food and I would have been fine. You don’t have to feed me.

Emir: I know.

I stared at the message, the simplicity of it. No justification or explanation.

I chewed my bottom lip, not sure how to respond, but before I could type anything, another message came through.

Emir: You ain’t typing. That mean you’re enjoying it?

Me: It’s alright.

Emir: Your ass is throwing down. Greasy lips and everything.

I laughed and almost choked on a fry.

Me: Fine. It’s good. Happy?

Emir: Getting there...

I paused with my fingers hovering over my phone. There was something about the way he always let things linger.

Me: You love pushing until you get what you want…

Emir: Always.

I sighed, tossing my phone onto my desk and focusing on my food, but it vibrated with another text.

Emir: I gotta go. Need to focus and you’re distracting the hell out of me.

My stomach twisted in excitement of being his distraction. But then tensed from the reality of what I might be distracting him from. Focus. On what? I cringed, not sure I wanted to know the answer but before I could talk myself out of it, I typed out one last response.

Me: Then stop texting me and focus…

Three dots appeared.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

Emir: Not a chance in hell. You’re my new favorite distraction. Be easy, beautiful.

Like always I fucking smiled because his attention had me giddy as hell and that was dangerous, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

Work was still hectic, but after Emir’s unexpected yet appreciated food delivery, I pushed through the rest of my day without overthinking it.

Mostly.

Now, a few hours later, I was sliding into a booth across from Rachelle, who already sat stirring a drink with her straw, giving me a knowing look.

“I need that,” I muttered and pointed before setting my bag beside me.

“Rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

I signaled the waiter and ordered a strawberry margarita, needing something strong. Rachelle was already a drink in and had a lazy smile on her face.

“You wanna tell me what’s got you looking like you’re having a personal crisis?”

“I do not look like I’m having a personal crisis.” I touched the screen of my phone again to see if I had any messages.

“Baylyn, you’ve checked that damn thing three times in the last thirty seconds. Either you’re waiting on life-changing news or you’re spiraling.”

Or wondering if my new obsession was still out shooting people or just ignoring me…

I sighed, leaning back against the seat. “Neither.”

Rachelle narrowed her eyes, but before she could push more, my drink arrived. I lifted my glass hoping it would help me erase the fact that I was crushing on a killer. A very sexy, very demanding killer.

“Fine,” she said, setting her glass down. “We’ll start easy. How was work?”

I shrugged. “Busy. You know how it is. Too many events, not enough time, and somehow people still expect miracles which I deliver because I’m the shit.” I flashed a cocky smile and she laughed.

“Girl yes. I had a client tell me that they ‘loved’ my proposal but wanted to change literally every part of it. Like… what the fuck?” Rachelle was an interior designer who, like me, worked under one of the greats but was hoping to branch out one day and have her own thing.

“So basically, they didn’t love it.”

“Exactly. I need people to stop being fucking annoying.”

I grinned, finally relaxing. This was exactly what I needed to take my mind off him, but of course, Rachelle decided to ruin it.

“Now, tell me what’s really up with you.”

I sighed. “Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You hesitated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t try me friend. I’m the Baylyn whisperer. You hesitated and that means you’re lying. The audacity…”

I grinned, finishing my drink. “I’m not lying. I’m just avoiding.”

“Oh, so there is something to avoid?”

Damn it.

“It’s nothing serious.”

Rachelle propped her chin on her palm, watching me like she knew I was full of shit. “Baylyn…”

And I was indeed full of shit…

“There’s this guy.”

Her brows shot up. “A guy? As in, a man?”

I gave her a flat look. “Yes, Rachelle. A man .”

“Who exactly is this mystery man? And yes he’s a mystery because I haven’t heard shit about him, but we’ll get to that later.”

I hesitated because what the hell was I supposed to say?

Oh, you know, just some arrogant, unfairly attractive man I’m crushing on. He also may or may not be a hired killer. Not to mention, he keeps showing up everywhere I am, buys me food like we’re dating, and refuses to leave me alone.

Yeah, no.

“Just someone I met,” I said instead.

Rachelle’s grin widened. “Someone you met? Does this someone have a name?”

I sighed. “Emir.”

“Emir? Oh that screams I can fuck your life into ruin.”

I burst out laughing. She leaned across the table, grinning.

“Baylyn, what the hell? You’ve been holding out on me! When did this happen? Who is he?”

“It’s not like that,” I said quickly.

She wasn’t convinced. “Mhm. Sure.”

I groaned, pushing my glass away. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

How was I supposed to explain Emir in a way that didn’t sound insane? Because whatever this was between us was very fucking insane. Rachelle watched me carefully and rolled her eyes.

“Baylyn, you’ve checked your phone a million times since you sat down. So yeah, it’s damn sure complicated; now spill.”

I froze for half a second too long and Rachelle’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. You fucked him, didn’t you?”

I groaned. “No?—”

“You did and you were gonna keep this from me? That’s foul.”

I sighed, already regretting this conversation. “I didn’t and it’s not that serious.”

“You’re evasive, which means it is very fucking serious.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay, how exactly did Emir come into the picture then?”

I chewed my bottom lip, debating how much I wanted to tell her. Because there was no easy way to say he killed a man and I saw him do it. I didn’t run and now he was every fucking where I turned.

I shrugged. “He’s just… around.”

Rachelle narrowed her eyes. “Around how?”

“We met. He’s persistent. End of story.”

“So you’re just skipping all the details?”

“Pretty much.”

She shook her head. “Fine, you’ll tell me when you’re ready or I’ll track him down and interrogate him myself.”

“I’m sure you will with your nosy ass.” My girl and I both had FBI type investigative skills when necessary. Rachelle sat back, stirring what was left of her drink, her eyes scanning my face like she was piecing things together.

“You don’t usually like persistent guys though, Bay.”

I didn’t. Persistent typically meant controlling and I didn’t do controlling.

“Yeah I know and I didn’t say I liked him?”

But I did. I liked this man a little too much…

“What’s his deal then? I at least need bare minimum so I know you’re good.”

I’m not good. He has my brain scrambled and me doing dumb shit, like telling him about my day in the middle of the night while he drives home and letting him feed me.

“He’s different,” I admitted. “Kind of reserved about who he is but it’s not a big deal.”

Rachelle raised a brow. “Reserved how?”

“We talk, but he doesn’t really say much about who he is and it’s weird because it’s not like he’s being ambiguous or anything. He’s just selective, private. Like he only lets you see what he wants.”

“And you’re okay with that? Because that screams red flag, boo.”

I sighed. “I don’t know how I feel about it or if I can even trust who he says he is, which is why I’m keeping my distance for now. I promise, it’s really not anything.”

Rachelle gave me that look that meant she was three seconds from telling me to run in the opposite direction.

“Baylyn…”

I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not even dealing with him like that.”

She didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

I paused, but only for a second. “Positive.”

She sat back, finishing her drink. “Just don’t overthink it. You overthink everything, Bay. If you like him, let it happen but don’t settle for the secretive shit. And if you’re not feeling his vibe, leave him alone. Don’t overlook him keeping things from you.”

I didn’t respond because that was the problem. I liked him and I was letting it happen which was pretty insane considering…

Rachelle stared at me like she wanted to press but decided to let it go. Instead, she shifted and smiled.

“Well, if we’re talking about men, let’s talk about mine.”

“Yours?”

She grinned, tucking a braid behind her ear. “Not mine yet. But maybe. We’ll see.”

“Who?”

“Met him last week. He’s an accountant.”

I almost choked because what the fuck? That damn sure didn’t fit. “An accountant?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“That’s not your usual type.”

She sighed dramatically. “I know. I usually like them a little rough around the edges, not as smart and a little more dominant.”

“A lot more dominant and a lot less smart ,” I corrected.

She pointed a manicured finger at me. “Don’t judge me. I don’t want a man to think. Just fuck me good and keep it moving.”

I held my hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not judging. I’m just surprised .”

“Yeah, well, he’s sweet. And so far, I like sweet.”

“So far?”

She shrugged. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

I laughed, finally relaxed for the first time all day. For a moment Emir didn’t have my thoughts completely wrapped up in him. This was just about me and my girl.

And I needed this…

By the time I made it home I was grateful for the solitude of my apartment.

You never knew how overworked and stressed you were until you stepped away from everything.

No client demands or their panic attacks about things not working no matter how many times I reiterated I had everything under control.

Right now, it was just me and a warm mug of orange mint tea.

I sat on the counter in the kitchen with my socked feet hanging over the edge and my phone in my hand as I lazily swiped through Skroll.

I wasn’t searching for anything specific.

I was mindlessly swiping, checking updates, half-engaging with posts until a notification popped up.

My thumb hovered over it and I tapped the screen before navigating to something else.

I pulled up the page that had followed me, knowing nothing would be different but I was still curious and smiled big as hell.

A new picture.

It was a photo of the black roses that had been left on my car.

The caption read:

Light work, but she’s worth it.

I grinned and struggled with the urge to roll my eyes as my stomach tensed.

Emir.

I liked the photo and, without overthinking, typed out a response.

The second I hit send, I locked my phone, setting it beside me, shaking my head at myself. Falling for Emir was too easy. I was letting him in and I wasn’t sure if that was a mistake or not. The screen lit up again with another notification.

A follow request.

I frowned, unlocking my phone and pulling up the account.

The profile looked similar to Emir’s with the same kind of layout, minimal pictures, nothing that revealed anything specific.

How many accounts did this damn man have…

“Alright, Emir,” I muttered, locking my phone again. “I get it.”

I slid off the counter, grabbing my tea before heading to my room.

He was persistent and damn sure not subtle.

If this was him, he was going to make himself known eventually so I elected not to follow the account just yet.

I climbed into bed, setting my mug on the nightstand before pulling up my iPad and opening a book.

Snuggling under the blankets, I got comfy and enjoyed the moment, needing something familiar to ground me and keep my mind off Emir.

And yet…

No matter how many pages I swiped through that man was in my head.