Page 24 of Ruthless Love

“Were you hiding in his closet?”

“Nope.”

“Professional lap dancer?”

“I wish.” I shake my head in a daydreamy state of remembering it all until Margot knocks me out of it with an ahem. “Oh, right. Well, he was sort of prancing down his driveway and back. I still don’t have the full story on that one.”

“Apparently, he’ll avoid tan lines at all costs. And the second time?”

“Oddly enough, that one’s even more of a puzzle. He was at Dimitri’s.” The alarm that crosses Margot’s face pushes me to add, “But I don’t think they knew each other. Apparently, he’s an architect. Dimitri was trying to hire him for me.”

“Maybe he caught you admiring his skyscraper.” Her joke is light, but concern underlies it. Margot sits back as a crease forms in her brow. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Dimitri said he wanted me to redesign the manor to my heart’s content. Maybe he’s genuinely trying to make me happy.”

That is, when he’s not banging other women in his Hästens Vividus bed. Goddamn him.

“Sounds like you’ll definitely be seeing a lot of him.”

“Only the glimpses I catch out my kitchen window. Seems the man stallion still has no idea that his mirror is perfectly angled to give any random onlooker—”

“You mean you.”

I smirk. “Any random onlooker in my kitchen gets a full view of his treasure trove, soaking in every smoking-hot angle of his chiseled body. I’ve become conditioned that when his hall light goes on, whatever the hell I’m doing comes to a screeching halt. All I can say is that man is a god.”

“But won’t you be seeing him all the time, with him working for Dimitri?”

Regretfully, I shake my head. “I doubt it. I looked him up in the neighborhood directory and sent him a text after the meeting. Since Dimitri led with his charm and I followed with my chatter, obviously I’m on permanent ignore.”

I don’t bring up my nagging concerns that the man isn’t who he says he is. I can spot a half-truth a mile away, and his lack of an answer to, “You’re an architect?” said it all. Which brings me back to my first conclusion.

Obviously, the man’s a hooker. And with the heavy ring off my finger, I won’t be ignored much longer.

Chapter Twelve

AUSTIN

“You’ve been holding out on me.” Maverick’s voice over the phone rings with an air of omniscience.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I bluff, hoping to God she doesn’t know.

“Really, Austin? Your next-door neighbor and Dimitri Antonov? You’re not seriously going to pretend not to know.”

I don’t correct her on the location, because half the shit Mav knows is because people open their big fat mouths and tell her.

Twenty-twenty hindsight is always the best. And Mav’s right. I should have told her. Omitting it from my report was a mistake. I’m protecting the little baker girl, and I have no idea why.

But I keep looking out for her, because the parts of my mind, body, and soul that tell me to eat, sleep, and breathe tell me to do this too.

Protect her.

“I might have caught a passing glance at her, but by the looks of them together, I doubt it will last.”

“Yeah. I’m not buying it. You’ve got the best advantage of any operative around, and that makes you our lead guy. Get close and find out more.”

“And if I refuse?”

It’s an empty threat, and not because I wouldn’t ditch this operation in a heartbeat. But because Mav is right. Again.

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