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I roll over as I wake up, forgetting about the injury on my ribs. It shoots pain through my side, and I quickly roll back.

I groan loudly, pressing my hand over the bandages, neatly taped to my body. She did an incredible job.

I smile, remembering her vulnerability as she huddled against me.

Her beautiful body wrapped in my arms, her smooth, soft, warm skin.

She’s no longer in my bed, but I can still smell her on the pillow next to me. I pick it up and press it over my face. The delicate scent of her perfume breezes over me, intoxicating me with desire.

My cock goes rigid.

Fuck .

She’s got some strong hold over me. Over my body and my thoughts.

I react to her instantly, wanting her.

I toss the pillow away, annoyed that she has this effect on me. Last night at dinner, before all the shit happened, I was thinking about taking her home and making her scream in pleasure.

I could do it now. I could march into her room, rip her clothes off, and do incredible, erotic things to her.

She might be reluctant at first, but I’ve seen the way she responds to my touch. She wants it as much as I do.

I groan louder than before as my cock throbs, aching to feel her.

Throwing the blankets off my body, I slowly sit up on the edge of the bed. Now that I’m fully awake, I can assess the level of pain in my side. It’s not as bad as I expected. I think she helped me clean it and bandage it fast enough that it’s already healing.

I’ve always been fortunate enough to heal fast.

I rub my hand over my cock, adjusting it as it sits awkwardly stiff in my pants.

Fuck. I want her. I need her.

Looking towards the bedroom door, a sly smile touches my lips. She’s right there, across the hall.

I can’t do it. I know that.

But it’s a tempting thought.

No.

I’ll get into the shower, nice and cold to blast these thoughts away, then put a fresh bandage over the suture tape. Once that’s done, I’ll be fresh and ready to start the day.

Lara is not from my world; she doesn’t even know what she’s been tangled up in here with me.

She’s innocent and doesn’t deserve to have that innocence taken away from her just because I can’t control my cock.

Or because my stepbrother has it out for me.

She almost died last night because of me.

Dammit. She stopped asking questions when she realized I needed help. But those questions are still there. They will still need to be answered.

It isn’t fair of me to hide things from her anymore.

She has to know.

Her innocence—that na?ve sweetness about her—will be broken when she is exposed to the real world. But there is no choice in the matter.

Besides, her father is the one who made the choice long ago; he is the one who is responsible for involving her in this world of mine.

I push myself to my feet, taking a moment to make sure I’m steady.

In the bathroom, I kick off my pants and carefully peel the outer bandage off, throwing it into the wastebasket.

I climb beneath the steady spray of water. It massages heat into my tense muscles. I hang my head forward, letting the water pulse over the back of my neck.

I’ll take her to work with me today. It’s the best way I can think to ease her into the idea of what I do. I’ll tell her the truth piece by piece, so she doesn’t get overwhelmed all at once.

Either way, it’s going to be a shock for her.

After I’ve scrubbed my body and allowed the hot water to soak away my tension, I push the lever all the way to the cold side, and a fresh blast of icy water slams into me, stealing my breath away for a moment.

My mind goes silent. My thoughts freeze.

No worry, no stress, no concerns—just ice-cold water flooding over me.

By the time I climb out of the shower, it’s like I’ve had a reboot.

I choose my usual business dress. Black slacks, a shirt, leather suspenders that cross behind my back to hold my gun, and a jacket.

Lara is in the kitchen when I get down there, eager for a cup of coffee.

She smiles when I walk in.

“Morning,” I say.

My eyes trace over her body. Perfect, with her petite waist and wide hips. Those jeans look far too good on her.

I clear my throat.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her bright eyes studying me.

“Much better than I expected. Hardly hurts at all. You did a brilliant job tending to it last night.” I tap my side, nodding.

“Don’t you think you should rest for a day or two? My body hurts just from the accident, never mind the fact that you got slashed by glass.”

“No, I’m alright. I don’t have a lot to do today, but I did want to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“If you’re up for it, do you want to join me? I’m heading to one of my warehouses, and I know you want to know what I do—so I thought maybe I could just show you.”

“Really?” she asks, perking up, setting her coffee mug down.

“Yes, really. I’m leaving once I’ve had coffee.”

She glances down at her jeans and cream lace blouse. “Do I need to change?” she asks, scrunching her nose, looking cute as hell.

I look at her bare feet, her little toe wiggling as she stands there, her nails painted pink. “Wear some comfortable shoes. Sneakers maybe. The warehouse can get chaotic.”

“Alright. I’ll be quick.” Lara bolts out of the kitchen, and I chuckle, enjoying her enthusiasm. I hope I’m making the right choice. But what choice do I have, really?

***

We arrive at the warehouse late in the morning.

I specifically brought her to this one because we have some product that has just arrived, and they’ll be unpacking it.

She is close to my side when we step into the massive space. It’s noisy, men shouting to each other, the clank of metal on metal, the beeping of forklifts as they reverse away from trucks holding pallets of goods.

“These two trucks arrived this morning. We’re busy unloading the delivery, and it’ll get taken to that side of the warehouse, where quality control checks it.” I gesture towards the forklifts.

One of the drivers waves at me. “Hi, boss,” he shouts.

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Tiny?” she asks, scrunching her brows.

I grin. “He lost both his legs years ago when he was young and stupid and drove his motorbike too fast.”

“How is he using the forklift, then?”

“We had one of them modified for him when we hired him. He’s a good member of our team. It was worth it.”

“That’s nice of you,” she says, looking around at the other guys.

“We need to trust everyone who works here, and the best way to do that is to give them a reason to want to be here. For them to be part of something that adds value to their lives.”

“I guess every business needs to trust their employees.”

“Some more than others. Given the delicate nature of what I do…”

She knits her brows as she glances at me.

“Come, I’ll show you the quality checking area.”

We pass three guys carrying heavy rifles.

“Oh my gosh,” Lara whispers.

“It’s the truck’s security team.”

“What got delivered?” she asks, her eyes still locked on the weapons.

“I’ll show you.”

As we walk through the warehouse, I chat about how we cover the supply network for the whole of San Francisco. That I run several warehouses just like this one to keep up with demand, and our products come in from Mexico, sometimes even further away.

I hope that with everything I say, she is slowly piecing things together, especially with the number of guards she’s seen as we move deeper into the warehouse.

Lara is tense, her senses heightened, and a permanent scowl on her face.

“Here we go. Quality checking.” I gesture for her to walk ahead of me into another section of the warehouse.

She gasps when she walks inside, standing dead still for a moment as large, tightly packed bags of white powder move along a conveyer belt with people checking each package as they drift past.

“Is that…” She can’t seem to find the word, but I imagine she’s seen enough movies to know what it is. Lara turns towards me, her eyes flaring. “Are you a— a drug dealer? ” she whispers, terrified that someone might hear her.

“It’s one of the products I move,” I nod, watching her closely.

She says nothing, almost as though she’s waiting for me to reassure her that this isn’t real.

“Lara, it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean more?” she blurts out.

“I’m not just—I’m—" I close my eyes for a moment. This is harder than I thought. I don’t want to see that disappointment in her eyes. Just tell her, Nestor. “I am part of the Russian mafia. But not just any part—I am the most powerful leader in this city. I own this city.”

Her silence is deafening.

I don’t know whether I should give her a moment to process it or try to explain more to her. She’s glaring at me with fire in her eyes and her fists clenched at her sides.

After what feels like an eternity, I say her name.

“Lara.”

“Take me home. Right now. I can’t believe you brought me here.

How dare you put me in this position. You didn’t think that maybe I might not want to see all of this?

How am I supposed to take this? Why would you do this to me?

I don’t want to be involved in your illegal, crazy, whatever the hell this is. ”

She’s furious. I get the sense that it’s more fear than anything else. Fear of the unknown. Terrified of the things happening around her that she doesn’t understand.

“Lara, just take a second, take a deep breath. We can finish the tour, and I can show you that it’s not as bad as you think it—"

“No. I don’t want to finish the tour, Nestor. I’m done here. I want to go home. Please.” Her eyes are glittering with tears, and her chest is heaving up and down. She’s panicking.

I reach out to touch her arm to try and reassure her, but she steps away, moving quickly out of reach.

“Take me home, Nestor,” she hisses.

Okay, this is going terribly.

“Alright. We’ll go,” I say, defeated. I will have to try and talk to her another time, once she’s processed what I’ve told her.

I wave my hand towards the door, and she’s about to rush through it when one of my employees walks in. “Sir, we have a bit of an emergency. I’m so sorry to interrupt.”

I glance at Lara. She rolls her eyes, her lips pressed together.

“What is it? Can it wait?”

“No, sir, it can’t, it’s Plato. He fucked up and got his hand caught in the machine.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” I snarl, worried for him. “Lara, I won’t be long, I have to deal with this. Just stay close.”

“Fine,” she mutters under her breath, folding her arms across her chest, protecting herself from this place as she hurries along behind me.

I follow, jogging through the warehouse, towards a circle of workers huddled around one of the machines. It’s used to vacuum pack and press products, and Plato has his hand stuck in the press.

“Move, everyone move,” I demand, and they quickly step aside. “What the fuck, Plato,” I grumble at him.

He chuckles, his face as white as ash. “Sorry, boss, you know me, though, I can’t let a week go by without creating some kind of entertainment.”

“Is the machine pressed all the way down?”

“No, Jim managed to switch it off before it flattened my hand, but I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

“Better broken than crushed. We’ll need to reset the machine before we turn it back on, otherwise it’ll finish the movement.”

“Yeah, that’s why we needed you.”

“Jim, stand near Plato, I’m pretty sure it’s going to hurt when it lifts.”

Jim steps close to his friend and colleague, wrapping his arm around the guy’s waist to support him. “You really are a fucking moron, you know,” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

Plato grins. “I know it.”

I walk around to the back of the machine and punch in a reset code, press my finger against a red button, then gesture for someone to turn it back on.

“Go ahead.”

The entire crowd around Plato holds their breath as the switch gets flipped. The machine hisses and then releases, rising up to its starting position.

Thank fuck.

Plato staggers backwards, leaning on Jim, who guides him to sit down on the edge of a crate. I hurry over to him to check his hand.