Page 84 of So Close

My purse begins buzzing on the corner of my desk, and I reach for it, digging to find my phone. The contact’s face on the screen is unforgettable, even though it’s been years since I saw him last. It might’ve been handsome once, but it’s weathered a lot. The bridge of the nose leans askew from a previous break – or few – that wasn’t set correctly. The brows are thick and low, made more noticeable by the baldness of the head above it. The lips are full and firm, but the dark eyes are flat and icy. The body that goes with that face is heavy with muscle in a very intimidating way.

“Amy Armand,” I answer.

“Ah …” There’s a pause. “I’m attempting to reach Amy Searle.” The Eastern European accent inflects a deep voice.

“That was my maiden name. I’ve since married. It’s a pleasure to hear from you again, Mr. Laska.”

41

AMY

“How’s business at the gym?”I ask my former client, attempting not to sound too eager.

“You remember me.” Valon Laska sounds pleased.

Leaning back in the chair, I wonder at the odds. It was at lunch with Laska that I first met Kane. Laska and I had been seated in view of the door, and I’d been startled into staring by Kane’s unusual height as he walked in with two other business-suited gentlemen and was seated at a table nearby. He was so handsome my heart stopped for a moment before launching into a frantic rhythm. His gaze had locked with mine the moment he stepped inside, and I felt it on me throughout my meal. I’d hardly been able to concentrate on my pitch to Mr. Laska.

I went up to the penthouse with Kane that afternoon, and those hours with him led to this very moment: an office in Baharan Pharmaceuticals and the discovery that my business had died while I was home trying to be a perfect wife.

“Business has remained steady since you helped us,” he replies. “My problem now is a restaurant. It could be doing better. I was hoping you could assist me as you did before.”

I don’t have any illusions about Valon Laska. If he wore a sign saying his businesses were shady as fuck, it couldn’t be more obvious. While he was polite to me and even charming, a lack of life in his eyes set off alarm bells. Kane, too, could look at you in a chillingly vacant way, but I always knew there was fire in him. Laska radiated the bone-chilling cold of Siberia.

Still, it had been an easy job cleaning up the social accounts for the gym. A few days of photographs and a new logo were all he needed. After that, several businesses reached out for similar facelifts. Clarice had commented on us becoming a go-to resource for the criminal underworld’s legitimate endeavors. I’d been a bit wary about that and had been relieved when things with Darius got serious quickly and afforded me a way out. Now … Well, things were a hell of a lot different now. I could use a steady stream of new clients, regardless of whatever the owners masked behind their storefronts.

Valon Laska had put me on the road to the Armands; he could also put me on the road out.

“I would love to work with you again, Mr. Laska.”

Searching for a notepad, I pull open the single drawer of my desk, and my muscles lock so tightly that I stop breathing. The room narrows once again into a pinprick of light. I can feel my blood pounding against my eardrums. My breathing is quick and shallow.

Condoms fill the wide drawer.

That douche nozzle I’m married to has been fucking his assistant in my office! How convenient. Fix yourselves a nice drink, loosen up, then fuck like rabbits. I glare at the couch, feeling disgusted that I’d sat on it and determined to get rid of it.

“Amy?” Mr. Laska queries. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your new name.”

“Amy is fine. And I apologize. I was digging around for a pen. I have a new office, and things aren’t where I’d put them. Could you please text me the website of the restaurant? I’ll check out your existing social media, then swing by and look at the location itself.”

“Bring your husband with you and enjoy a meal. I’ll leave your name with the hostess stand. On the house. You should know what you’re going to help sell.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.” However, it’ll be a cold day in hell before I take Darius there. Clarice has earned the meal for sticking around and putting up with Aliyah. “I look forward to working with you again, Mr. Laska. I’ll put together a proposal and submit it to you by the end of next week.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it. Goodbye.”

Placing the handset back in its cradle, I glare down at the pile of condoms and debate scooping up a handful and tossing them onto Alice’s desk before punching her lights out. Or, better yet, barging into Darius’s office and throwing them in his face. It’s long past time I confronted him.

I just don’t understand it. I spread my legs for him whenever he wants me to. Why am I not enough for him?

There’s a peremptory knock at the door before it opens, and Clarice comes in.

“You’re not going to believe the timing,” I tell her, “but Valon Laska – the guy with the gym in the Bronx – just called with a new job.”

Her brows lift. “The gangster?”

I shut the drawer just as I shut away my growing rage for the time being. It feels like something is loose inside me, rattling so violently my entire body is quaking. I stand on shaky legs and carefully approach the bar cart. “We don’t know that.”

She leans into the doorjamb and shoots me a look. “Right. What did you tell him?”

---