Page 38 of Graveyards & Greed

“We need to neutralize the threat, and I want to send a message that Sylvie is off-limits.”

“We can do that, but we’ll need to coordinate with Kilian and Fennick about this at some point.”

I grimaced. “I prefer Kilian. The man can actually be reasoned with. Sylvie and I promised each other we’d keep that night a secret. She gave me permission to tell you, but for now, I want to monitor Terrance and find out what he knows.”

Ivan smirked. “Good. I’ve been getting a little bored lately and this should liven things up. Let me get some surveillance in place and see if we can figure out what the MC might be planning.” He paused, giving me a searching look. “You like her, don't you?”

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Yes, and I want her to move in with me.”

Ivan let out a low whistle and laughed. “Damn. Have you ever lived with a woman before?”

“No.”

He grinned. The fucker was enjoying this. I walked over to one of the monitors showing a feed aimed at the mortuary apartment. “How long do you think you can keep stalking little Alexa without anyone else finding out? Or do you just want to exploit her hacking skills?”

He stopped smiling. “Shut your damn mouth, asshole.”

“It’s not as funny when it’syourwoman, is it?”

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to his computer bank. “Go away. I need to get some work done.”

A few minutes later, I slipped back into bed, and as Sylvie turned to me in her sleep and snuggled against my warmth, I silently vowed to keep her safe.

The next evening, I strode into the mortuary to pick Sylvie up, scanning the hall as I headed to her office. I’d texted and called her, but became concerned when she didn’t respond.

She stood deep in conversation with a lean, well-dressed man who was probably in his late thirties. He had an aristocratic bearing and European bone structure, and his suit was impeccable and clearly tailored to his frame. I knew an expensive, Italian-made suit when I saw one.

As I paused in the doorway, I caught parts of their conversation and recognized the man. The Salazar patriarch had died recently, and Marlowe Salazar was here to arrange his grandfather's funeral. Marlowe’s voice held a faint Spanish accent, and I conceded he could be a charming fucker.

He laid his hand on Sylvie’s arm as they finished up their conversation. “My grandfather specifically listed your funeral home in his end-of-life instructions. Your reputation is stellar.” He flashed a lazy smile, and my eyes narrowed. The bastard seemed a little too flirty for someone who was planning a funeral.

Sylvie wore a flattering blue silk wraparound dress, and I disliked him seeing her in it. She was professional and polished now, but I remembered what she looked like this morning as I fucked her mouth in the shower. Wet strands of hair wrapped around her neck and shoulders, and her beautiful brown eyes stared up at me as I came down her throat.

Marlowe Salazar’s full attention appeared laser-focused on Sylvie, his dark eyes assessing her with unmistakable interest. “What are you doing for dinner tomorrow night? I would love to express my gratitude for your exceptional service.”

My jaw clenched, and I straightened off the door jam. I bet the fucker would. Sylvie glanced over at me, then turned back to Marlowe. “I appreciate the generous offer, Mr. Salazar, but I have to decline. It's our policy not to socialize with clients.”

Marlowe ignored me, and his smile didn't falter. “Ah, but after next week, I will no longer be a client, will I?” He inclined his head. “I understand, but I’ll reserve the right to ask you again.”

I'd had enough. I strode forward and put my hand on the small of Sylvie’s back. “You ready to go?”

Marlowe's irritated gaze flicked to me, his eyes assessing. “To whom do I have the pleasure?” he asked as he held out his hand.

I raised an eyebrow and shook it. The man knew exactly who I was. We’d seen each other at The Emporium and had fucked some of the same women at different times. I’d make damn sure that didn’t happen with Sylvie. “Drakos Creed, and Sylvie won’t be free for dinner anytime soon.”

He stared at me, then turned to Sylvie. “Ah, my loss.”

She smiled and shook his hand. “Please reach out if you have any last-minute questions or instructions.”

He held her hand for longer than necessary but finally let go. I suspected the bastard did it just to pull my chain. “Thank you. I’ll see you at the service on Saturday.”

After Marlowe walked out, Sylvie turned to me. “What was that?”

I shrugged, trying to stifle the flash of jealousy. “Just reminding everyone that while you're with me, you’re mine. I don’t share.”

Her eyes narrowed. “One of Roman’s ex-girlfriends let Luna know that you and some of your partners actuallydoshare.”

Her annoyance sparked mine. “I’llneverbe sharing you.”

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