“Evet.” I get up from the chair and follow Emre to the boardroom. I usually let him handle any new business so I can focus on the bigger clients, but with Lara being sick, my routine went to hell. I figure a business meeting will get my head back in the game.
As I sit down at the head of the table, my phone vibrates. While Emre goes to welcome the client, I check the message that came in from Elif.
Mazur was seen in Poland. I’ve asked for proof. Will let you know when I receive it.
“That’s good news,” I murmur to myself.
Emre comes back to the boardroom, this time with Daniel by his side and two men following after them. I remain seated as they all gather around the table.
“This is Cairo Mohammed and Darius Ibrahim,” Emre introduces them.
I nod and gesture for them to take a seat.
Emre sits down to my right while Daniel remains standing. He’s an Israeli soldier I found living on the streets while I was in Israel for business.
I almost let out a chuckle when I realize it seems I have a soft spot for broken things. First Daniel, now Lara.
Emre starts the meeting, and we listen to the order of weapons the Egyptians want.
It takes close to seven hours to negotiate a price both parties are content with. By the time the Egyptians head up to the club for a complimentary night of drinking, I’m itching to go home.
As if he can read my mind, Emre asks, “Are you heading home?”
“Evet.” I walk down the hallway toward the stairs.
“At least you can sleep in your own bed tonight.” The teasing tone in my cousin’s voice doesn’t escape my attention.
Glancing at him, I ask, “Is it a crime to make sure one of my employees doesn’t die?”
He holds up his hands, a mischievous look in his eyes. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Right,” I chuckle. As I take the stairs to the upper floor, I admit, “Besides, I like sleeping in the armchair.”
Emre’s laughter follows me right through the doorway before it’s drowned out by the pulsing beat filling the club.
As I walk through the groups of early partiers, I stop to greet VIP clients, and I finally make it out the door well after ten pm.
Lara’s probably asleep already.
Mirac holds the backdoor open, so I can slide into the SUV, and as he drives us home, I think back to the past three days.
Taking care of Lara, it felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Yeah, just like that, the woman has grown on you.
I let out a chuckle that has Mirac glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
When I finally get to walk into my house, I unbutton my jacket and stop in my bedroom to shower quickly. It’s too late for dinner, so I change into my sweatpants and a t-shirt before heading down to Lara’s room.
Not knocking, in case she’s asleep, I open the door. I’m met with a startled shriek as Lara quickly yanks a shirt over her head.
I pull the door shut, then stand rooted to the spot, my hand still on the doorknob.
Shit. I should’ve knocked.
A couple of seconds later, the knob turns beneath my hand, and Lara opens the door. “Sorry,” she apologizes for my mistake.
I step inside the room, and narrowing my eyes on her, I say, “You need to stop doing that.”
Her wide gaze darts to mine. “What?”
“Stop apologizing for everything. It was my mistake. I’m sorry for not knocking before I let myself in.”
Her eyebrows draw together, and when it looks like she really wants to say something, I mutter, “Out with it. Speak your mind.”
She shakes her head. “I’m really grateful, Gabriel Bey.” Genuine appreciation shines from her eyes. “For everything you’ve done for me.”
The corner of my mouth lifts slightly. “You’re welcome, Lara.” I gesture to the table. “I think it’s time we have a serious talk.” Instantly, her features tighten with nerves, and it has me quickly adding, “It’s nothing bad.”
“Okay.”
I settle down in an armchair, relaxing back while Lara perches on the edge of hers, her hands wrapped tightly on her lap.
Shit, she has beautiful hands. Why didn’t I notice that before?
Reaching across, I cover her hands with mine and give them a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not in trouble. Relax, Lara.”
I have to make an effort to set her at ease, or the stress will take her to an early grave.
She nods again, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. She’s dressed in a pair of black leggings and a light blue t-shirt, her body slender beneath the clothes.
She still looks too fragile, making me feel protective of her.
It amazes me how she survived in Mazur’s house for twenty-two years.
Needing to clear some things between us so Lara won’t worry as much, I start by saying, “Don’t apologize for every single thing. Okay?”