“Do you have any hobbies?” I blurt.
“Chess.”
Of course, that’s his hobby. Doesn’t surprise me at all. Our whole relationship is one big chessboard, and I’m the pawn.
“And you?” he asks.
“Gardening,” I answer, and he shakes his head.
“I was referring to the boyfriend.”
My mouth drops open. If we were outside, I’d have a mouthful of flies in it.
“I-I. That’s none of your business,” I respond, trying to save the last of my dignity I have left.
“Good.”
That shuts me up, and the room goes quiet once again. I wonder what his next move will be. Will he steer us back to dangerous waters or throw me a life raft.
His face is impassive as I wait for my fate.
Then it opens. “Why flowers?” he asks, breaking the silence and I wonder why after all we talked about; he goes back to this of all questions. Seems strange, but one thing I’ve learnt about Cyrus Reed is never to think you can anticipate his next move.
“My mother. She loved to garden. She taught me everything.” I close my eyes, and I can almost imagine I’m in a garden. I remember the smell; I remember the feeling of the dirt in my hands. I remember everything.
“What are you thinking about?”
I open my eyes; Cyrus is staring at me. “How much I love to garden. I feel lost without it.”
“You can use my greenhouse,” he says before standing from the table and severing the moment.
But the feelings I feel from his words have already buried themselves in my soul.
Warmth.
Happiness.
Hope.
There might be more to Cyrus Reed than he lets on.
He might be a good man.
Fuck.
I cannot think these thoughts. This is too much. These feelings are too much.
My resolve is set.
I need to get out of here.
Now.
21
Cyrus
“Who’s my meeting with today?” I ask Z as I walk down the stairs into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.
“Alaric.”
Mariana is in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and as soon as she sees me, she sets off to prepare my cup.
The stunt she pulled yesterday wasn’t missed. Candles. No, that was pretty fucking obvious what she was doing.
It wasn’t enough not to fuck Ivy on my desk as is. Couple that with how fucking beautiful she looked last night, and the ambiance, and I’m lucky I didn’t do something I would have regretted in the morning.
Catching up with Alaric will be just what I need to sort myself.
“What time?” I ask as Mariana hands me my mug, and I take a swig.
“Noon.”
Taking a seat at the table, I motion for Z to join me. “Let’s go over numbers before he gets here. He’s probably expanding and needs to deposit more money, but in case it’s something else, I need to know everything about his account.”
“No problem.”
By the time Alaric is set to arrive, I’m standing outside on the dock of my estate. The beauty of my property is most of my clients can come in undetected by boat. Alaric’s yacht, for example, can come in from the Atlantic, and no one will be none the wiser.
Which is what he’s doing right now.
We hold many of our meetings out here on the dock. Far enough in all directions that no one can listen in.
When Alaric’s small yacht docks, he hops off and heads over to me.
“Pleasure to see you,” I greet, extending my hand.
He meets mine and shakes it. “Thank you for taking this meeting. I had some business I wanted to discuss with you.”
“Don’t you always?” I laugh.
“I have guns I need to move, and I need your help.”
My brow lifts. “Arms dealing is your business, Alaric. I’m not sure how I can help?”
“I need you to store some,” he says.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because we’re friends.”
“Is that what we are, Alaric?”
“I’d like to think so, and friends help friends . . .” he leads, and I know what he’s saying. If I help him with this, he has my back in the future.
“Tell me about the guns.”
“They’re hot right now. Too hot for me to sell.”
“I won’t agree until you tell me why.”
“We lifted them off the competition, Cyrus.”
I nod. “And why are they flagged?”
“They are the same lot and caliber as the guns used in the attack in Italy.”
I look back at the house where Z is standing. If we do this, it could come back to bite us in the ass, but the risk is worth it to have Alaric in my pocket.
“Very well. Where are the guns?”
He turns to the yacht. I lift my hand and signal Z, who’s standing in front of me not a minute later.
“We need to rid Alaric of a load.”
“On it.” Z walks toward the dock and boards the yacht. His cell phone is lifted to his ear as he calls my men to help him.
A few minutes later, Alaric and my men start to bring the crates inside, and once they are all out of sight, I turn to Alaric.