Page 52 of A Sinner's Virtue
“You hang out with strippers often?” I lift a questioning brow.
“If they’re my friends, then yes,” Zoe says. “But so do you. I know you and your brothers own a few of your own clubs around town.”
“Owning a club or two and hanging out with strippers are not the same thing,” I tell her. “I don’t befriend the staff.”
“Seriously? You’ve never once ever befriended the staff?” Zoe annunciates the word while wiggling her eyes up and down.
“Not even once,” I reply. “Scout’s honour. Strippers don’t do it for me.”
“Were you ever a boy scout? I don’t see you being part of group activities.”
“Not exactly, but I did my fair share of hunting and knot tying.” Probably not the type a boy scout would do.
“Right. Well, thanks for the pizza, guys. But I’m exhausted and going back to bed. You two can show yourself out.” Zoe points at the Russians before turning back to me. “You need your shirt before you leave, but thanks for coming over to check on me.”
I blink at her. Does she seriously think she’s kicking me out right now? Not fucking happening. “Anytime, babe,” I say while following her out of the kitchen. When we make it to her bedroom, I hear the front door shut.
Zoe climbs onto her bed. “I’m sorry I’m not better company. I’m just really tired.” She yawns.
“You are the best company even if you’re asleep,” I reply, walking over before dropping my pants and climbing onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting into bed.” I shift to one side and hold my arm out for her. “Come on, lie down with me.”
“You want to sleep with me?”
“I always want to sleep with you, Zoe.” The hidden innuendo isn’t lost on her. Zoe’s cheeks turn pink as she rests her head in the crook of my shoulder. My arm wraps around her back. “I’m really fucking glad you’re home,” I tell her while kissing the top of her head.
“Me too,” she says.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Staring at my computer screen, I’m drawing a blank. Lucy and I were working together on the designs for Lobson’s bedroom while I was away. But now that I’m back, she’s given me full control of the project.
Almost every room in the empty house has been completed. There are only a couple left unfinished. The main suite being one of them. Even though I should be focusing on my client, my mind keeps drifting to Marcel’s bedroom.
I only saw it once. But I remember his dark-timber king-size bed and black sheets with navy coverings. I wonder if he’d let me redesign his room. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just not very… inviting. It’s the kind of space that makes you wonder if you should really be in there or not. Then again, maybe that’s intentional. A way to keep people out of his space.
There’s a lot that Marcel keeps locked up. Sometimes I wonder if he’s trying to protect me, or if he just doesn’t trust me enough to let me in. I’ve been trying not to think about it too much. I’ve been back a week, and Marcel has been over to my place every night, but he’s yet to invite me over to his house.
Do I want to go back there? I’m not sure, but I do want him to want me there. My head is all kinds of fucked up when it comes to Marcel. I want more than I should want from him. And with him. I also want more than I know I can actually give him.
Jolting from the shrill tone of my phone, I see Mikhail’s name flash on the screen. He’s been calling me every day, at least twice since I came back to Melbourne. “Mikhail, don’t you have some kind of empire to run? Some toy soldiers to boss around? Babies to tend to?” I ask the moment I swipe answer.
“I do, but I also have a more than capable wife who my soldiers and children seem to listen to more than they do me most days. How are things over there?” he asks.
“Good. Same as they were four hours ago when you called me last.” I laugh and spin around in my office chair. “How are things on your side of the world?”
“Would be better if you were still here where I could see that you were safe with my own eyes.”
“You have at least four eyes on me. I can see two of your men outside my window as we speak,” I remind him. They’re trying to be discreet. They stay in their car, parked outside my office. I don’t mind. It’s like a safety blanket I know I probably don’t need but want to hold on to anyway.
“You can never be too safe, Zoe. How’s that boyfriend of yours treating you? Can I kill him yet?” Mikhail asks.
“No, you cannot. He’s good—oh shit.” I jump as a bird flies into the window.
“What happened? Zoe?”
