“You know I’m here for you if it does.”
“Thanks.” I hang up, knowing he is on my side. That’s the thing about the men I do business with, the men who have become my friends over the years. We have bled for each other. We have all gone to war for each other. No matter what, no questions asked, we would all do it again.
My shoulders uncoil. Now that I know Cyrus has my back, I can move to stage two, luring in the new bait. And while I do that, I’ll enjoy every second of it.
10
Skye
What’s that line from the classic movie? Of all the gin joints . . . I am officially in the last place I want to be. Mr. Williams gave me no out when we talked after Tobias left, so here I am.
I check the address on my phone for the millionth time since I received the text. No hello. No name. Just a “Be at this address at 9 a.m.” I only came because Mr. Williams would fire me on the spot if I didn’t go. That can’t happen for so many reasons.
I’m shocked by the address or, better yet, the building at the address. I’m not exactly sure where I thought I would be going today.
Yes, you do. Stop lying to yourself.
I thought I was going to a warehouse on the docks where most of the underworld seems to congregate. It never crossed my mind that I was going to an office building off Wall Street with a beautiful view of the water. This is not what the office of a drug lord is supposed to look like.
I take another step and look around. This part of the city is only busy during the workweek, and right now, it’s just that. Jam-packed with traders getting ready for the day. I’m early. The market hasn’t opened.
It’s a quarter to nine, and though it’s fun to people watch, I decide to grab a coffee before I head in to find Tobias. Across the street, I see a little shop. I have plenty of time, so I’ll pop in real fast, then I’ll head up. The stars align as the crosswalk signal turns in my favor, and I head to the store.
Not five minutes later, I’m holding a steaming hot cup of coffee. It warms my hands, which I don’t need right now. It’s hot out, much hotter than it usually is in mid-May, but I still inhale deeply as I lift the paper coffee cup. The robust and delicious smell infiltrates my nose. Pulling it away, I place it to my lips and take a sip.
It’s so good, much better than I expected, and damn, I do love a good coffee. Best decision I made. I slept like crap last night with my mind going a million miles a minute. Today has been weighing on me. Not knowing how it will go had me tossing and turning all night.
Now, freshly showered, a bit more makeup than usual—I needed it to cover the swollen bags under my eyes—I’m ready to see what he wants from me. I’m dressed in a power suit and my favorite lightweight silk blouse. My clothing is my armor in meetings like this. Walking toward the address I was provided, I take a sip from my drink.
There’s a doorman and even security. I smile at the man behind the desk.
“Ms. Matthews, here to see Mr. Kosta.”
“You can go right up.”
Something tells me he knew I was coming and expected me.
I move past the desk and make my way to the elevator banks. I need to find a place to throw this coffee cup out. I look around, not at all paying attention to where I’m walking when I hit a wall and bounce back.
My heels slip, and I fall backward, the cup in my hand toppling out of my grasp.
I hit the ground with a fierce thud. Hot coffee splatters everywhere, including on my chest.
The liquid is so warm, I frantically pull at my shirt. Buttons fly off the thin fabric and land everywhere as I peel the wet, clinging silk off me.
As soon as the material leaves my body, I instantly feel relief from the burning liquid. But I also feel something else. Cold air. Cold air from an air conditioner that is blasting in the corridor. Hitting my skin because I’m now wearing a completely trashed shirt.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit. This is such a disaster.
I lift my hands to cover my chest, which is now exposed. My hands cup the damp lace of my bra. A hand reaches out, and that’s when I remember I bumped into someone. My eyes close of their own accord. This can’t be happening.
I’m in a torn shirt in front of whoever I bumped into. I don’t want to look up. I want to curl into a ball and pretend none of this is happening. Which, of course, I can’t do.
“Open your eyes, Ms. Matthews.”
Not him. Please, not him. I would know that gruff voice anywhere.
Fuck, I want to crawl into a hole. I need a ditch that I can disappear into . . . forever.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. I can never face this man again after today.
“Skye . . .” he drawls with a bit of a chuckle. Son of a bitch, he heard me.
No. This is not me. I’m not someone to shy away from a challenge with my tail tucked between my legs. Sure, I’ve embarrassed myself, but this is a momentary setback. Now I need to stop acting like a scared child. I am Skye Matthews, and I’ve lived through hell. I can deal with one asshole drug dealer.
My lids lift. My gaze is hazy at first, but then everything comes into focus, including the shadow of a larger-than-life man and a hand reaching out to help me. I have two choices. I can take his hand or be stubborn and get up by myself. I choose the latter. Bypassing his extended hand, I push off the ground by myself, stand tall, a whopping five foot, two inches, and straighten my back.
I might not be tall, but I can steel my spine until I act like I am. That’s just what I do. Tall and proud, and with a tattered shirt covering me, I pick up the cup.
“Don’t worry about cleaning that. I’ll send someone.” I don’t respond. I give him a nod and then turn back toward the elevator bank, throwing the cup in the trash right outside the doors as they open.
Once they do, I step inside and am not surprised when Tobias enters the elevator with me. This day is going to suck, and it only just started. I look down at my watch: 9:02. I’m officially late.
“You’re late.”
“Gee, really? Thanks for letting me know,” I deadpan.
“I’ll let this time slide, seeing as you were . . . out for coffee.”
I don’t need to look up to hear the smirk on his lips. But for some reason, I do. I regret the decision the second our gazes collide. Because it’s not only a smirk there. There’s another look entirely, and as his eyes look down for a second and caress my skin, I can’t help but shiver.
What the hell was that, Skye?
The elevator door pings open before I can ponder that thought too long. Without waiting for him to speak again, I step off, and once I’m on solid ground, I turn to face him.
Despite how warm my cheeks are, I look at him and refrain from lifting my hands to cover myself.
11
Tobias
I try not to stare. But when she said fuck me? I’m only human. This woman will be the death of me, and we are less than five minutes into our business relationship.
She is standing in front of me, tits out. Sure, she has a bra on. But if you can call that scrap of lace holding them clothes, I call bullshit.
I try to keep a straight face.
I’m actually pissed. The anger inside me flares. Why does she have to be her?