Page 100 of Wicked Sinner
“I don’t know, Caesar,” she interrupts. “I can’t make promises right now. This was wonderful. But it wasn’t real.”
“We said we wanted to try,” I remind her, and she sighs.
“Maybe. I need to think. Without you right there, reminding me of everything I shouldn’t want.”
I want to argue that’s exactly why I don’t want to leave. But I don’t. I nod, acquiescing, and we wash up and make our way back out to the waiting Ferrari.
The drive back to the city feels different somehow. Maybe it's the morning we just shared, or maybe it's the hope of more mornings like it, but something has shifted between us. When I glance over at Bridget in the passenger seat, she looks peaceful in a way I've never seen before.
It's only when we're about fifteen minutes from the penthouse that I notice the black sedan that's been behind us for the last several miles. When I take an unnecessary turn, it follows. When I slow down, it matches my speed.
My jaw clenches. Professional surveillance, the same kind I noticed after my confrontation with Konstantin and Tristan. Someone is having me followed again, and this time they're not even trying to be subtle about it.
"Everything okay?" Bridget asks, noticing my change in mood.
"Fine," I lie, not wanting to ruin what's left of our perfect morning. "Just thinking about work." It’s not entirely a lie… whoever is following me is, at least, definitely tied to my work.
I make a mental note of the sedan's license plate and pull out my phone to send a quick text to my security team. By the time we reach the penthouse, the sedan has disappeared, but I have a feeling it's not the last I'll see of it.
Someone is watching us. And my suspicions of who it is haven’t changed.
"I'll be back by seven," I tell Bridget as we ride the elevator up to our floor. "Don't leave the building without security."
"I won't,” she promises me. “Be careful.”
I blink at her, surprised. “I always am.”
"No, you're not." She swallows hard, a nervousness in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. "You're reckless and arrogant,and you think you're invincible. But you're not, Caesar. You're just a man, and men can be hurt."
The concern in her voice makes my chest ache. "I'll be careful," I promise. "I'll come home to you."
I kiss her, quickly, very aware that I couldn’t have done that before yesterday. Somethinghaschanged between us… I just don’t know if it’s enough. Everything in me doesn’t want to leave her, but I know she needs space. She’s told me over and over that she’s independent, and I know she needs time alone to process all of this.
Crowding her won’t get me the result I want. It’ll do the opposite.
I focus instead on the meeting ahead of me, one that turns out to be fairly unpleasant, since it involves Isabella’s father and shipping concerns. I know he’s angry with me over jilting his daughter, even if nothing official was ever announced, but I refuse to act as if I did something wrong. It’s hard to concentrate as the meeting is wrapping up, knowing Bridget is at her appointment by now. I’d like to be with her, and it frustrates me that I’m not.
As I’m leaving, my phone buzzes. It’s Tristan, agreeing to meet me while he’s at lunch. My jaw tightens, and I stride quickly to my car, fury building in my chest.
I find him at a table out on the patio, looking out at the water with a plate of shrimp scampi in front of him. He looks up as I approach, and I can see a tightness around his eyes.
"You're having me followed," I say without preamble.
Tristan looks up, his expression blank. "This again?”
“Someone professional is tailing me. You have a reason to want me gone. To threaten me or scare me off. But it’s not going to work, and Konstantin isn’t going to like it.”
"I have no idea what you're talking about." He takes a sip of wine. "But even if I did, can you blame me? You've been makingsome very interesting choices lately, Caesar. Choices that affect all of us. If I wanted to keep an eye on you, I think Konstantin would understand. Although, it’s not me," he adds. “I have better things to do.”
"My choices are my own business."
"Are they?" Tristan leans back in his chair. "When your personal decisions threaten the stability of our entire operation, they become everyone's business."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means your little romance with the mechanic has made you look weak. You're thinking with your dick instead of your head, and it's going to get people killed. One of them is probably going to be you. Maybe her, too."
"Careful, O'Malley." My voice drops to a dangerous level. "That's my wife you're talking about."
