But even then she hadn’t known how much everything would change.
In the following weeks, Roman had made her reorganize his schedule, delegating most of his responsibilities and leaving London only for the most important business meetings. As soon as the meeting was over, Roman would be on his plane, flying back to London. He was also spending a good chunk of his valuable time helping Luke Whitford sort out the mess his father had left.
Anna watched all of that with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. In all the years she had known Roman, she had never seen him so…fixated on anyone. She called it fixation for lack of a better word. Granted, she hadn’t seen Roman interact with Luke Whitford, but since Roman didn’t allow anyone to get close to him, preferring to keep even his family at an arm’s length for their own safety, she concluded it could only be sex.
So she had waited patiently for Roman to get over his strange obsession with Whitford’s boy, and with every passing week that it didn’t happen, her confusion grew stronger.
But Anna knew better than to question Roman’s decisions aloud. Of course, it didn’t mean she couldn’t try to interrogate him.
“So,” Anna said as soon as Roman emerged out of the shower. He had just arrived from the airport fresh from New York City. If the pattern established in the last two months held true, he would finish changing and leave to see his curly-haired boy.
Roman let his towel drop and opened the wardrobe. “Yes, Anna?”
She took a moment to admire his physique, musing whether or not her attachment to Roman would have been less sisterly if she were fifteen years younger than she was.
“For how much longer are we going to be based in England?” Anna’s tone was carefully casual. “We’ve barely left England for two months.”
At her question, Roman’s hands paused. Pale eyes scrutinized her.
She refused to be intimidated. She was a former KGB agent. She wasn’t easily intimidated.
Pressing his lips together, Roman pulled on a pair of trousers. “Actually, I want you to start looking for a large building in London. Good, secure location is the priority. The price doesn’t matter.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean…”
“Yes,” Roman said. “I’m moving the main office from Geneva to London.”
Anna could only stare at him in silence. Moving the headquarters from a tax haven like Switzerland to the UK wasn’t the most practical decision. To put it lightly.
She opened her mouth and closed it without saying a word.
Roman let out a sigh. “You have two minutes to voice your objections,” he said, shrugging into a fresh shirt and starting to button it up.
“As your employee, it’s not my place to object,” Anna said before letting a slow grin stretch her lips. “But as your old friend, let’s just say I never thought I’d see the day you’d let some baby-faced English kid plait ropes out of you. Smitten is a good look on you.”
Roman leveled her with a withering look.
Anna flinched but held his gaze, her lips twitching.
Grabbing his keys, he said, “Focus on doing your job, Anya.”
She watched him leave, smiling faintly. She had no idea how Whitford’s kid had accomplished that, but she was glad. Roman worked too much. Anna was the same way, but there was one significant difference between her and Roman: she always had a home to return to; Roman didn’t.
Perhaps that was about to change.
Chapter 28
Roman left his hotel, his muscles tense and his head throbbing with the beginning of a headache. It had been a long flight, and the conversation with Anna hadn’t exactly been relaxing. He barely waited for his bodyguards to get in the back of his car before slamming on the gas, the tires screeching.
By the time he parked the car and headed toward Luke’s penthouse, Roman was in such a foul mood even his bodyguards kept a careful distance behind him.
“Wait here,” he said before using his key card and stepping into the private lift.
At last, the doors slid open and he stepped out into the empty living room.
A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. Roman headed there, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet.
He leaned against the kitchen doorway, feeling the tension in his muscles dissipate.
Luke was singing softly as he stood by the oven, stirring the sauce in the pot. He was wearing a pair of denim shorts and a bright Hawaiian t-shirt, his dark golden curls pushed back with a flowery headscarf. A set of large headphones was perched on his curly head, Luke’s hips swaying a little as he hummed some song. He looked very young, very endearing, and very ridiculous—not exactly a combination Roman normally found attractive.
He couldn’t look away.
Silently, he walked over, pushed the curls aside and pressed his lips to Luke’s nape.