Loving Leo (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 3)

by Burns, Trevion

  He could write a book. How to Keep Getting Out of Bed (Even When You’ve Fucked Shit Up Beyond Human Comprehension). Jessica could already see it on all the best seller lists.

  How had this guy not exploded?

  She had a feeling he was closer to explosion than he’d ever been in his life.

  He took a seat at the head of the boardroom table, scowling. He gazed up at her from under his eyelashes when he realized she was still standing at the door, and motioned to the chair next to him with an open hand.

  No apology for being hours late for their interview. No inquiries into her physical well-being. Was she hungry? Thirsty? Surely she had to be, after waiting so long? None of those questions came, because Val Romanovsky didn’t give a shit.

  Men on the verge of explosion rarely did.

  She crossed the room, taking the seat opposite him and watching him flip through her “résumé.” While he was distracted, she pulled a pen from her blazer and placed it on the table. She made sure his eyes remained lowered as she clicked the pen open. A red light illuminated, confirming that her “pen” was activated and recording.

  After giving it his attention for all of two seconds, he flung the résumé aside and threw open her portfolio, tossing the pages with such haste he couldn’t possibly be giving any of it a real look.

  The FBI had contracted a real graphic designer to put the portfolio together, and having seen all of it herself, Jessica became annoyed as he hurried through it. It was beautiful work.

  Val gave up halfway through, slamming the portfolio shut and clasping his hands on the table. His eyes met hers, and that uninterested gleam was back.

  “Look, I’m not here to waste your time.” He motioned to the portfolio. “I like what I see. You have a good eye, and frankly, my brother and fiance will never get out of my ear if I give this job to anyone else. Tamika should have your new hire paperwork ready. You start today.”

  Jessica sputtered as he stood tall. “Um… that’s it?”

  Val re-buttoned his jacket and moved to the door. This time, he did hold it open for her, hitting her with those impatient eyes when he saw she was still sitting.

  “I’ll walk you to your desk,” he said.

  Jessica’s heartbeat tripled. “I’m sorry, my desk? I thought Zoey said this position worked from home.”

  He sighed. “Fifty percent of the positions at this company work from home, but every employee has a desk that is their own. Even if they never utilize it.”

  Her heartbeat slowed. “Oh, I see. That’s nice.”

  His eyebrows rose, and he motioned to the door he was still holding.

  Jessica hurried over, leaving her pen behind, which was still recording on the table. If she was lucky, Val would claim it and put it in his pocket. Maybe he’d even take it home with him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Romanovsky, I’m so excited to be part of the team.”

  The only thing Jessica Borgia was excited about was testing out that giant slide.

  Oh, and watching Val Romanovsky burn.

  She was really excited about that one too.

  ***

  After showing her where her desk was located, Val pawned Jessica off on Tamika, who gave her a grand tour of the office. An hour later, clutching the copies of her Novsky new hire paperwork, Jessica said good-bye to Tamika and stepped onto the elevator.

  She jabbed her finger into the button for the lobby without relent, knees dancing. Reggie King had exited Novsky over an hour ago. She was sure Chet had already gathered invaluable information from the device she’d planted on him. She exhaled in relief when the elevator doors began to slide closed.

  “Hold the elevator!” a male voice cried.

  Not a chance.

  Her knees bopped.

  “Hold the elevator!”

  Jessica shook her head, tapping her teeth. The excitement lighting up her face and claiming her bones dissipated when, just as the elevator doors were inches from sealing shut, a hand zoomed into the space left between the doors. A Rolex flashed under the elevator’s bright lights as the doors jolted to a stop, and then slid back open.

  Leo appeared, biting the inside of his cheek, a thick eyebrow raised high, fighting a smile that was already there.

  A smile teased her lips at the sight of him.

  Beer Belly Borgia.

  And, just like that, her smile vanished, replaced with a deep scowl.

  Never fucking forget her mind screamed.

  “Thanks for holding the elevator,” he said, stepping in.

  She pointed to the doors. “I’m sorry, were you asking me to hold it?”

  “Only screaming at the top of my lungs.”

  “I must not have heard.” She held her breath, because his wonderful scent had swooped in and surrounded her. It wasn’t strong, but somehow, still snuck up and took hold, lingering in the most pleasant way.

  He held her eyes while leaning over and pressing the Door Close button.

  “Hold the elevator!” Another plea, female this time, rang out.

  Never breaking his gaze from Jessica’s, Leo pressed his thumb into the Door Close button with more vigor, picking up his pace when the female voice rose to glass shattering levels.

  “Hold the elevator! Really—?”

  The last thing Jessica saw was a manicured hand reaching for the doors, reaching for dear life, just before they sealed shut. The elevator descended, and Leo faced her, pushing his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

  She risked a look at him. “That was very rude of you, closing the doors on that nice young lady.”

  “Like you weren’t about to close the doors on me, leaving me in the dust just like I left her in the dust.”

  Jessica faced him.

  “If I hadn’t made it in the nick of time, you would’ve thrown me to the wolves too,” he said.

  “I have a lot of things to take care of today. Yes, I was going to throw you to the elevator wolves, but it wouldn’t have been anything personal.”

  His eyes fell to her lips and stayed there. With a deep breath, he reached out and cupped his hand around her waist.

  She straightened, gasping.

  “Still hurts?” He frowned.

  “No.”

  “Then why did the air just leave your lungs, the moment I touched you there?”

  She cut her eyes to him, pushing his hand from her waist. Her lips parted, and she released the dollop of air she’d been holding. “It’s a little bruised, but much less painful than it was yesterday.”

  “I’m so sorry.” His frown deepened.

  “I’ll be okay, Leo.” She smiled, thinking if he had any idea how many oily, piss-infested surfaces she’d crawled over on bloody knees, how many floors she’d skidded across while firing a Glock 22, how many broken bones she’d endured at the hands of people trying to kill her, and how many bullets had come flying at her head—all of which had blessedly missed her by the hair of whatever angel lived on her shoulder—he wouldn’t be so worried about that pathetic bruise on her waist.

  “You look beautiful this morning.”

  His sweet words sliced through her dark thoughts. “Thank you, Leo.”

  He looked off, licking his lips. “Just to be clear, I didn’t follow you into this elevator to harass you sexually.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Damn. And I’d gotten myself so excited.” She watched his face light up.

  “I just wanted to invite you to the office party tonight.”

  Jessica’s eyes shone.

  He watched it happen, fingering a piece of paper out of his pocket. “It’s actually Rome’s birthday. He doesn’t like a lot of fuss, so we’re just having a small get-together at his favorite lounge. The whole office is invited, and since you’re part of the office now...”

  “I’ll see if I can make it.”

  “I sincerely hope you do.”

  “You don’t have to butter me up like this, you know. I’m not going to sue you for running me down in your penis car.
And I’m definitely not going to sue you for all the sexual harassment I’ve been subjected to since the moment I walked through Novsky’s doors.”

  After a moment of searching her eyes, he reached over and pulled the emergency stop toggle.

  Jessica yelped when the elevator jolted to a halt, squinting at him. “I feel like I should be afraid?”

  Leo moved in, so close she was forced to step back.

  “But, curiously.” She hit the wall. “I’m not.”

  His eyes went to her lips. “Ashley, I’m extremely attracted to you. I think we’re attracted to each other. I don’t know about you, but I have no interest in holding it in for another moment.”

  “Twenty-four whole hours of holding it in, and you’ve already succumbed? You wouldn’t do well under torture.”

  “It is torture.” His eyebrows jumped. “Pretending that I don’t want you with every fiber of me. When Val told me he gave you the job, I wasn’t sure if I should jump for joy or curse the gods. Keeping my hands to myself while you parade around in skirt suits like this? Nothing short of torture.”

  This son of a bitch is bolder than I thought Jessica clutched the new hire file to her chest. Only men who’d grown used to women falling to his feet in worship had the balls to be this forward.

  She knew this wasn’t about attraction. It wasn’t about her. It was about his ego. She’d refused to kiss him the night before. It was a blow he hadn’t been prepared for, and now he would stop at nothing to get between her legs.

  “Can I take you to dinner? Friday night?” he asked, pressing up so close she could see the designs in his eyes. He watched her bottom lip like he wanted to suck it between his own.

  She couldn’t help it when her gaze went to his lips too. The same lips that used to whisper, “Beer Belly Borgia,” in her ear when he passed her in the halls.

  She seethed. “I’d love to go to dinner.”

  Any other day she’d take great pleasure in rejecting this arrogant bastard. The last thing in the world he was expecting at that moment was for her to say no. She wished to God she could crush his ego to pixie dust right there.

  But she needed to close this case. She needed it more than she needed to see Leo’s ego take a beating.

  Searching her eyes, he licked his lips, and then reached over, releasing the emergency stop button. Moments later, the elevator dinged open in the lobby.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  “See you then.” She stepped out and waved good-bye over her shoulder, waiting until the elevator doors had closed before she broke into a jog, desperate to get to Chet.

  She blazed through the doors of the lobby and into the cool air outside, heels clicking to a stop when she caught sight of Roman leaning against a column to her right.

  With a furrow at his brow, he clicked at a sputtering lighter, the cigarette hanging from his lips going lonely.

  Jessica could not believe her luck, doing everything she could to bite back a cartoon villain cackle as she pulled a lighter out of her purse. One of the many toys the FBI gifted their agents, this lighter was equipped with a voice activated microphone and camera. It could hear through clothes and see twenty feet ahead.

  Roman’s icy eyes rose when her heels clicked to a stop in front of him, but the irritated gleam in them dissipated when she lifted her lighter, kicking up the flame with the heel of her thumb.

  He leaned in, letting the tip of the cigarette burn under the fire, his face relaxing in an instant as he took a heavy drag. He savored the toxic clouds filling his lungs, eyes closed serenely, before opening them and meeting Jessica’s eyes.

  He nodded his thanks.

  “Keep it,” she said, raising the red lighter between them.

  Roman hesitated, and then took the lighter, nodding again.

  Jessica moved away, wondering if that pretty boy ever spoke. She realized she didn’t care when, from the corner of her eye, she saw him slip the lighter in his pocket.

  ***

  “Audio on Reggie, audio in Val’s office, camera and audio on Roman, and the moon hasn’t even finished rising,” Chet said from where he sat alongside Jessica at the stakeout table in Westchester. “You deserve a medal.”

  “A medal? The boys at the office would never see that happen,” Jessica muttered, adjusting the headphones on her head.

  “Bugging your suspects and waiting them out will never be the popular plan of attack when you’re surrounded by trigger happy feds with guns. They want the shoot out, they want the danger, they want to play. They’ll never understand the power of a slow crawl, learning your suspect’s hot buttons, their soft spots, their deepest weaknesses. Things they’d only dare say in the dark. It’s poetic, Jess. We might have this damn case closed by tonight.”

  “You’ve never had this much praise for my work before,” she mumbled.

  “I’ve never meant it like I do now.”

  “Fucking brilliant is definitely not the term they’d use at headquarters. Thank god for Harp.”

  Even though Special Agent Sam Harper was a pain in the ass, Jessica always felt blessed to have gotten him as a supervisor. Not only did Harper understand her unorthodox style, and why she needed to place cams and microphones on her suspects—he supported it. Bugging a suspect wasn’t cheap, and Harper had gone to bat for Jessica more times than she could count. He understood that she wanted her suspects to find her cameras, her bugs and her taps. Her strategy was to break her suspect down mentally, to find their weaknesses and exploit them until they finally told on themselves, confessed, or got nervous enough to show their hand in an actionable way. Sometimes her style took months.

  She knew it wouldn’t take that long with Val. He was already showing all the signs of a man on the verge of complete mental collapse. All she had to do was wait him out.

  Jessica suddenly shot up in her seat, pushing the headphones to her ears.

  “Hold on,” she said, leaning over and turning up the volume on her headphones. “Do you hear that?”

  Chet clicked a few buttons on his computer. “It’s Reggie.”

  “He’s moving.”

  “Who’s he talking to?”

  They both pressed the headphones harder to their ears as a muffled conversation came crackling through their headphones, growing clearer as Reggie moved closer to the person he was speaking to.

  For several minutes they listened and, soon, the smiles had been wiped clear from Chet and Jessica’s faces.

  They could hear everything he could hear, in real time, and tonight, Reggie was visiting his dear old dad.

  With focused eyes, they listened, chests heaving, take-out food forgotten and abandoned on the table in front of them as a conversation between Governor Victor King, Reggie King, and an unidentified male wafted into their headphones.

  After ten minutes of listening in, Jessica and Chet looked at each other with horror-stricken eyes.

  “We need protective detail on Angie Colt, starting tonight, at all times.” Jessica swallowed as Chet nodded his frantic agreement, already grabbing his cell to make a call to their station’s Protective Services Department.

  Apprehensive butterflies fluttered in Jessica’s stomach. A gasp left her lips when her heart stalled. Again.

  She slapped her hand over her chest, eyes widening.

  Cell phone at his ear, Chet’s eyes grew concerned as they fell to her quaking hand. “Did you take your pill today?”

  “Eyes on Angie Colt,” Jessica said, wheezing as her heart shuddered back to life. “Until this case is closed.”

  7

  Across the river, Reggie King watched his father with fear in his eyes.

  Three arched windows lined the wall behind Governor Victor King, curving to the top of the twenty foot ceiling. Moonlight spilled in, making the mahogany leather office chair he sat in stand out in the darkness.

  He leaned back in the chair, thick fingers clasped at his lips as his eyes moved back and forth between the two men on the other side of
his desk. Victor’s home office was the largest room in his New Jersey mansion. Bookshelves lined every wall and climbed from floor to ceiling, chronicling his forty-year journey from police cadet, to law school graduate, to police chief, to Governor of New Jersey and, now, to his biggest dream. His only dream. His pinnacle.

  Reggie knew his father’s lifelong climb could only end at President of the United States.

  “I’ll be damned if I let some know-it-all piss-ant in Harlem destroy what I’ve worked for,” King said, ignoring Reggie’s eyes and meeting the eyes of his right-hand man, Mitch Gallagher. “I need you to shut her up. I can’t trust Harry to do it.” Victor licked his teeth.

  Reggie watched as Mitch shifted. Mitch was heavyset, but knew how to make his weight work to his advantage. An advantage that, more often than not, involved strong-arming anyone who got in his way, even if that strong arming ended in death.

  “Vic,” Mitch said. “We removed any file with your name on it before we sent her office up in flames. Scared her so much she stopped looking into the Blacks completely. Trust. Angie Colt is a non factor.”

  “She knows too much,” Victor said. “Shut her up.”

  “Dad. All due respect, Angie Colt really is nothing to be concerned about. Without her office, she’s not even a blip on our radar—”

  Victor lifted a hand.

  Reggie’s eyes grew vulnerable, and he reared back, gaze falling to the floor.

  The silence lingered for several long moments before Victor put his attention back on Mitch. “There’s too much at stake,” Victor said. “Angie found Knox, and she’s pulled Val’s mug shot.”

  “She couldn’t have pulled it, Vic. It’s not possible—”

  “She has it. I don’t know who she got it from, but I know she has it.”

  Reggie pressed his lips together, clasped his hands in front of his body, and looked away with a shake of his head.

  “I’ve been trailing her for months,” Mitch said. “She’s just a freelance investigator, and a shitty one at that. She’s been stumbling in the wrong direction for ten years trying to find the truth about the Blacks, but she has nothing. Setting fire to her office crippled her. She has no money. No power. She cannot touch you. In the grand scheme of things, she’s utterly insignificant, so much so that fucking with her might cause more harm than good. You’re not in a position to make too much noise, Vic. You’re officially a candidate. There are going to be more eyes on you now than ever before.”