“Is it secure?” I ask, keeping my words vague in case he’s foolish enough to have someone bug his phone.
“No,” he responds after a pause. “Anthony stopped by the other day and cleared everything out. Said he couldn’t trust me anymore, not after… well…”
He trails off, but I don’t need him to finish. I already know what happened. Anthony must’ve roughed him up pretty bad and moved the goods somewhere safer.
Good.
Yeah, I know how that sounds, but it is what it is.
“Make sure nothing raises suspicion,” I say firmly. “If there’s even a hint of trouble, handle it before they catch wind of anything. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, boss.”
I end the call because I’m getting a call from another club. It’s pretty much the same thing, but they moved the goods when the cops showed up at the door. Then another—they’d sold the last batch an hour before.
And another, where they found enough to arrest the employees around.
“Fuck,” I run my fingers through my hair. I don’t know how they got the warrants, but I’m certain they’ll all regret that move. I haveenough lawyers to get the employees out, but someone has to take the blame.
Someone who can keep their mouth shut for a couple of months.
As I sit debating my next move, the doors of the apartment building open, and a woman steps out. She’s wearing a white maxi skirt and a black crop top with white sleeves. Her hair is swept into a half bun, and gold hoop earrings sway gently as she moves, catching the light—and my attention.
Natalie.
She doesn’t notice my car parked a short distance away. Her focus is elsewhere, scanning the street as she raises her hand to flag down a cab. Oblivious, somewhat, and entirely distracting.
My phone slips down on the back seat unnoticed as I stare at her. Something in her phone catches her attention, and it must’ve been funny because she laughs and shakes her head from side to side.
Her smile does something to me because, for a moment, I forget what I was angry at. The Club Royale and the prosecutor’s office are distant memories, almost like they never happened.
My brain and thoughts are on how the single smile brightens her face… and the man standing next to her notices it, causing him to smile, too.
What is it about her?
Why does she leave me speechless, flustered, and craving to know more?
I’ve never cared about situations that didn’t involve me—until Natalie. She makes my heart stutter and sends a rush of dopamine coursing through my veins. As she waves down a cab, her smile stays imprinted in my mind, refusing to fade even after she gets in and the car begins to pull away.
I watch until the cab disappears into the flow of traffic. The moment is fleeting, yet it lingers, leaving me unsettled. My focus, my control, is gone, hijacked by her without her even knowing.
I snap back to reality, reaching for my phone, but I can’t summon the frustration I should feel for being so easily distracted.
“I need to look into her,” I mutter under my breath. If she’s a spy, she’s a damn good one. And if she’s not… then I have an entirely different problem.
Chapter Eleven
Natalie
I’m not supposed to be here.
The room feels like him—cold, unwelcoming, and ready to eject anyone who doesn’t belong. I inhale deeply, gripping the tray in my hands, willing them to stay steady.
Anthony told me to place it in his office, and I couldn’t say no.
I’d already gone through the effort of making breakfast, only for it to be ignored.
I didn’t want lunch to meet the same fate, but now that I’m here, the atmosphere of his office is oppressive. The four walls seem to edge closer with every second, suffocating me as if they’re ready to devour me whole.