The Negotiator

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "I'm fine," I objected, taking a deep breath.

  "You're not fine," he objected, making the bed depress as he sat down on the edge. "But I figure you're not going to talk to me about it."

  "I was starting to love him," I admitted, finding it was easier to open up when you had your face stuffed in a pillow. "I know Quin thinks I have Stockholm or something, but it's not that. It was real."

  There was a humorless chuckle as his hand slapped my thigh. "Leave it to you to fall for a crime lord, huh?" he asked, making a small smile tug at my lips, finding comfort in his teasing. "Why don't you call him?" he suggested.

  I hated to admit that I didn't even have his number, that I might have actually been weak enough to call him if I did.

  "It's pointless," I said instead. "He lives in Greece," I added, shaking my head.

  "I heard he actually has dual citizenship, but, yes, he does live there. You like Greece."

  "I like it here too."

  "Maybe he would too."

  "I know you're trying to be a good friend, but you are making it sound like it is possible. It just... isn't," I told him, folding upward, sighing out my breath.

  His gaze moved to my face, likely taking in the puffy eyes, the tear-stained cheeks; so unlike me, but I couldn't seem to muster the fuck to give about it.

  "Think a lot of us have realized that things we thought were impossible actually aren't."

  "You and Jenny are a unique story," I insisted.

  "Yeah? And Quin and Aven? Gunner and Sloane? Kai and Jules? Lincoln and Gemma? Ranger and Meadow? We are all just, what, more unique? Than you with a Greek crime lord?"

  "You guys all at least lived in the same country from the get-go," I insisted, rolling my eyes.

  "That's true," he agreed, moving to stand. "I'm just saying, shit like distance? That's superficial. If that is the only obstacle, it's not one that should even trip you up."

  "You've seen me try to exercise, right?" I shot back, making him turn back, big, goofy smile on his usually very serious face.

  "You know what, you're right. We need to start you small. Like a doggie obedience course, or something."

  "Jackass," I called to him, tossing the pillow at his retreating form.

  I appreciated Smith for his unrelenting support. Even if it was misguided. Even if it was toxic because it encouraged me to consider things that my heart wanted me to, but my mind knew weren't possible.

  I climbed out of the bed, stripping out of my towel, slipping into the pajamas Christopher had brought me.

  I should have probably had Jules donate them or something.

  But the idea made my stomach hurt.

  "I am going to eat this whole pizza without you, Mills," Smith called, dragging me out of my sad thoughts.

  So much had changed.

  One thing that hadn't, though, was my love for food.

  So I had pizza with Smith.

  In the morning, I had breakfast with Kai and Jules.

  Then I had lunch with an unusually quiet Gunner. So quiet, in fact, that he didn't even tease me for sleeping with Christopher. Which, well, if you knew Gunner, simply wasn't like him.

  "What's up?" I asked. "What are you hiding from me?" I clarified. His gaze slipped away, his head shaking. "You're so not going to get off that easily," I added. "Are you going to make me call Sloane?" I asked.

  "Look, he called, alright? He called the office," he told me, getting up, pacing toward the door.

  "Wait, what? Who called? Christopher?" I asked, my heart surging up unexpectedly.

  "Yeah, that bastard."

  "He's not a bastard," I objected. "Well, not anymore than you are anyway,." I teased even as my belly wobbled at the idea that he had called, that he had reached out, that he had tried to find me. "What did he say?"

  "His name."

  "His name?"

  "Then I hung up on him, and blocked him."

  "Gunner, what the actual fuck?" I asked, my tone deceptively quiet.

  How could he hang up on him? How could he think he had the right to make a decision like that?

  "He kidnapped you, Mills. Kidnapped. I get that you are still swooning over that asshole's dick, but taking calls from your kidnapper is stupid as fuck."

  "Well, maybe," I agreed, even though I didn't. "But that was my stupid-as-fuck decision to make, Gunner. Not yours. You're not my dad or brother or keeper."

  "I'm your friend," he objected. "I'm the closest thing to family you got. And I think you are fucked in the head if you are okay with the fact that he held you against your will. I mean, what the fuck?"

  "It was a job."

  "Yeah? Then where's the fucking paycheck, Miller?"

  "One does not mail an eight-million-dollar check," a voice declared through the screen door at the end of the kitchen.

  Not just any voice.

  That voice.

  His voice.

  There was a split second of worry that I might have finally cracked, that I was hallucinating him showing up at my house that I actually was as crazy as Gunner claimed.

  Until I heard Gunner curse, saw his hand go into his belt holster, producing a gun.

  My gaze shot toward the door, finding a suit-clad Christopher standing on the other side, his dark gaze focused on me, completely ignoring the gun aimed at him.

  "I'll deal with you later," Christopher said, opening the door, giving Gunner a dismissive glance as he made his way toward me.

  But, well, Gunner was Gunner. Protective of those he loved. Even if he called the people he loved things like fucked in the head.

  He moved directly into Christopher's path.

  "Get the fuck out of this house," he demanded, cocking the gun.

  "I believe this is Melody's house," Christopher said. "Which means she is the one who can permit people. Not you."

  "Melody?" Gunner asked, half-turning so that he could glance at me, confusion clear in his eyes. "Melody?" he asked again, but this time, he asked it of me.

  "It is my name," I told him, nodding.

  "Of course, it's your name. But you never tell anyone that."

  "She told me," Christopher said.

  "Yeah? Did she do that while drugged? Or being held prisoner at your house?"

  "She told me her name in bed," Christopher told him, gaze unblinking.

  "You mother fuck—" Gunner started.

  "Okay. Okay," I piped in, moving forward, holding up my hands. "Let's not," I suggested, looking between them.

  "Call off your guard dog, kardia mou," Christopher demanded softly.

  Kardia mou.

  I didn't know that one.

  But I liked how it sounded.

  "He's not my guard dog. He's more like a stray with mange and end stage rabies," I told him, giving Gunner a smirk. "Put the gun down, for God's sake," I demanded, rolling my eyes. "What are you doing here?" I asked Christopher, my voice a hushed, strange sound.

  "I called. A couple dozen times," he added, shooting Gunner a murderous look.

  "You didn't need to talk to her," Gunner objected.

  "I needed to talk to someone," he said, making my heart sink a bit, wondering if this was just some technical thing. Like he needed an address to send my check to. "To tell you that Atanas boarded a plane for the states a day and a half ago."

  At that, Gunner got suddenly very serious, his body stiffening. "What? How do you know that?"

  "Because my men and I have been eating and sleeping and breathing tracking him down since Melody left. And since your office refused to take my call," he said, turning his attention back to me, "I had to come and warn you myself."

  "How'd you get her address?" Gunner demanded, accusation clear in his voice.

  "Luckily, Quinton runs a reputable business. A listed business. So I went to your office."

  "Jules would never give out her address," Gunner objected. As much as those two never got on very well, they both had a grudging respect for each other.

  "No," Christopher agreed.
"But a man by the name of Smith did."

  Oh, good old Smith.

  A growling noise escaped Gunner, completely outraged at our coworker's—in his eyes—betrayal.

  "I owe Smith a new tool for his wood shop or something," I decided out loud.

  "Alright. Fine. You came and warned us. Now leave," Gunner demanded.

  Christopher was completely unbothered by Gunner's rage, turning his attention to me once again, gaze unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was soft, like a caress over my skin.

  "Do you want me to leave?"

  "Yes," Gunner answered, but his voice was becoming background noise.

  "No," I told him, head shaking softly. "You look tired," I added.

  "I haven't been able to sleep since my men told me the news."

  "Guilt does fuck with your sleep schedule," Gunner agreed.

  "Gunn," I demanded softly. "Let it go."

  "Absolutely fucking not."

  To that, Christopher let out a small sigh, turning his attention to Gunner once again.

  "Your objection to me is that you think I intend to hurt your friend?" he asked.

  "My objection starts with you kidnapping her, covers you imprisoning her, and ends when you take your last breath."

  To that, a small smile tugged at Christopher's lips.

  I knew both these men.

  And they both highly valued loyalty. So as much as Gunner was being a dick to him, Christopher appreciated his loyalty to me.

  "What if I told you that it became much more than that?" Christopher asked.

  "I'd say brainwashing is a crime."

  "I don't think it technically is," I chimed in.

  "You're not fucking helping, Mills."

  "Do not," Christopher cut in, tone cutting, "speak to her like that."

  "I can speak to her however I want to. I've been her coworker and friend for years. You're just some asshole who fucked her over."

  I braced myself, almost certain it was going to come to blows, worrying about my ability to break it up when it happened.

  I couldn't have been prepared for what actually did happen, though.

  For what was said.

  Christopher's gaze leveled with Gunner, keeping eye-contact.

  "I love her."

  He might as well have swung, because Gunner looked like he'd taken a fist to the face. He went slack-jawed. His eyes went big. There was a completely blank look on his face.

  Meanwhile, I felt similarly struck.

  The words made me physically jolt.

  There was a simultaneous soaring in my chest and a dropping in my stomach.

  Hope.

  And fear.

  That he didn't mean it.

  Which was ridiculous. Because if there was one thing I had learned in my time with Christopher Adamos, it was that the man was impeccable with his word.

  I mean, he had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to purchase me the absurd items I had put on that list. Because he would not go back on his word to get me what I needed. Even if he knew I was screwing with him.

  Gunner, however, did not know this about Christopher.

  "Don't ever say shit like that when you don't mean it," he demanded.

  "He does mean it," I objected.

  "Mills," Gunner said, head hanging, shaking side to side, apologetic, likely thinking I was being pathetic.

  Maybe I was.

  But I was also right.

  "He may be a lot of things you don't approve of, Gunn. But he doesn't lie."

  Gunner's gaze moved between the two of us, face a mix of confusion, distrust, then, finally, resignation.

  "You know what, fine," he said, throwing a hand up. "But I'm not going to stand here for this shit. I'm going outside to call Quin. Right outside," he added as a warning as he walked past Christopher.

  "I like him," Christopher decided when he'd left the room.

  "Of course you would," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry you had to come all the way here," I said after an awkward silence that was making my belly start to wobble.

  "I'm not," he said, voice a soothing sound, making my gaze lift. "I wanted to see you," he told me, hand raising, tucking my hair behind my ear.

  "I thought things were meant to end," I said, unable to help myself, needing him to contradict that comment.

  "Always going to and meant to are very different things," he clarified. "Just because I knew you would leave eventually didn't mean I wanted you to. I wish you could have stayed."

  "Why didn't you say that?"

  "To accomplish what? To make you feel conflicted about leaving? What good would that have done?"

  "It would have told me that it was more than a little nothing affair to you."

  "It was more than an affair to me," he clarified. "But I couldn't ask you to leave everything else that mattered to you just to spend more time with me. I can't claim to know anything about love, Melody, but I'm pretty sure it isn't meant to be that selfish."

  "You didn't have to ask me to give anything up."

  "We live in different parts of the world."

  "Yes, and in the golden age of the internet."

  "I don't want to have a relationship through a phone screen, Melody."

  "You don't know what kind of relationship you want, Christopher. Any more than I do. Since this is something new for both of us."

  "I know I like having you in my house. In my bed."

  "I like being there too. But, I think we are both reasonable adults who can learn to balance life and work and everything else out."

  "So, you want to try to do that?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

  "I don't know if you've heard, but I am pretty damn good at negotiating a deal so that all parties involved walk away happy."

  "I think that might come in handy," he agreed, smiling as his arms went around me.

  It did.

  I negotiated him right out of his clothes.

  And into my bed.

  Everything else could wait.

  EPILOGUE

  Christopher - 3 days

  I should have been back in Greece. Keeping an eye on my brother, making sure my business was still running properly.

  It had been Quin—of all people—who had said something when he showed up the next day that had changed my mindset.

  The point of being the boss is to delegate the workload so you can pursue the things that are important to you.

  He'd been right.

  I controlled my work the way I did because it was all that I had in the past. Especially once Alexander went away to school.

  Now that there was something in my life that I wanted, Quin was right. It was time to trust the men who had been with me the longest, who I knew could be trusted. Especially now that all my men—Laird, Collis, and Marco included—had each had a session with the elusive man by the name of Holden, and I felt confident leaving my businesses, in his hands while I spent some time with Melody. In her house. In her world. With her friends.

  In the span of two days, I had met every single person she worked with save for Ranger and his wife Meadow, because they lived further away.

  I got to put faces to the stories she'd told me.

  I toured around the town she decided to call home, getting an earful about the interesting criminal dynamics to be found there.

  I looked through all the knick-knacks scattered around Melody's home, hearing little stories about which countries she'd bought them in, what job she'd been on when she picked them up.

  It was much like back in Zagori. But instead of tiptoeing around the budding feelings between us, we were openly facing them, talking about them, analyzing them.

  There was nothing sexy about calendars and work schedules, but there was something undeniably exciting in sitting down and hashing out the details on how we were going to make this work. How much time we would spend in New Jersey, how much in Greece, what would happen if she was called on a job.

  "You're going to need to relax that jaw," she dem
anded when she brought up the topic. "Like it or not, I am going to keep working. If you wanted a woman barefoot in your kitchen until the end of time, you shouldn't have decided to catch feelings for me."

  To that, my lips curved upward a bit.

  I appreciated her drive.

  I respected her desire to have a career, even if it wasn't necessary for her anymore. She wouldn't need to work once that check cleared for her most recent job for me. But I understood that work could become a part of you, that you wouldn't feel like yourself anymore if you didn't have it.

  Even if the idea of her particular job put a pit of uncertainty in my stomach.

  Especially after having heard how dangerous some of those jobs had been.

  "What happens if, some day down the road, you decide you are ready to have children?" I asked. If it were up to me, we'd start immediately. But she was younger. She had time to decide.

  "Obviously, I would not be putting myself in dangerous situations if I were pregnant. And, well, after that... I would have to give that some thought," she admitted. "I don't foresee myself ever not working. But I can see slowing down, or only taking jobs I knew would be safe."

  "Like getting Fenway out of some new international mishap?"

  "Exactly," she agreed, giving me a smile. "I still haven't figured out how I am going to make him pay for his involvement in kidnapping me."

  "No?" I asked, reaching up to grab her, pulling her down onto my lap. "Because I think I am going to deliver him an entire lifetime supply of that Greek wine he was looking for."

  I would never stop owing him and Bellamy.

  But I figured we had a lifetime to pay them back for getting us together.

  Miller - 2 weeks

  "Go home," I demanded, leaning out the front door, calling to Lincoln who I knew would much rather be home with Gemma than babysitting me.

  "We still haven't been able to put a pin in Chernev," he objected, shaking his head. "Until we find him, this is necessary."

  It was overkill.

  Seeing as I was sleeping with Greece's scariest man.

  "Are you sure about that? Because I hear Gemma is making that soup you like so much." I knew it because I overheard him on the phone with her earlier, begrudgingly telling her he wouldn't be home to enjoy it. "And homemade bread," I added, digging the knife in. I left out the fact that I was also making that same bread since texting Gemma to ask for the recipe.