by Tiffany Snow
Emerging from the bathroom, I saw Parker had retreated to the desk and booted up his laptop. Grabbing my makeup bag, I touched up my powder and lip gloss and redid my hair, carefully pinning up the long strands into a twist. When I was done, I felt much better.
“Let’s go grab some lunch,” Parker said. “I’m starving.”
I readily agreed, wanting to avoid being in the confined space of the hotel room alone with him for as long as possible. Slipping on a pair of black heeled sandals, I picked up my purse and was ready to go. Parker grabbed his suit jacket and held the door for me.
The hotel had a restaurant, so that’s where we went. It was just the kind of place I liked, with lots of dark wood and leather, plush seating, thick tablecloths, and heavy silverware. The maitre d’ led us to a booth.
Parker and I were both looking over the menu when the waiter came up. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, looking expectantly at me.
I desperately wanted a real drink, but knew Parker would frown on that. “Um, iced tea,” I said.
“Sir?”
“Grey Goose martini, straight up, dirty,” Parker said. I stared at him as he glanced my way. “Make that two,” he added. “She’ll have one, too, only not dirty.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that—not just that Parker was drinking in the middle of the day, but that he knew I didn’t like olive juice in my martini.
“And why are we drinking?” I asked once the waiter had left.
“I could use one,” Parker said with a shrug. “After the plane ride you had, I thought you could, too.”
Certainly couldn’t disagree with that. I was still having trouble looking Parker in the eye without seeing my ass waving around in the air. Even as I thought it, I could feel my face warm.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, fiddling with my napkin.
As long as I’d worked for Parker, we’d never shared a meal, so my thoughts as I glanced over the menu were a little chaotic. Though I did a lot for Parker, knew probably way too much about his habits and preferences, it felt strange to be sitting across from him in this context.
I tried to shake off the feeling. It was just work. Chances were we’d eat a couple of more times before the trip was over, obviously, so I’d better get over it already.
Salad was out. Trying to stuff a too-big piece of lettuce in my mouth and walking around with a poppy seed stuck between my teeth would be how that would end up. Likewise, soup was out. After the pop fiasco, it’d just be my luck to drip something on me. Sandwiches and basically anything I’d have to eat with my hands was also out. Nibbling on fries was one thing. My big maw gaping open to take a chunk out of a dripping cheeseburger was another, though that sounded really good.
Which left…not a lot of options. A mushroom risotto dish with scallops, a halibut dish with rice, a petite filet…oh wait, lobster pot pie. Perfect. I loved lobster.
Parker ordered the steak, of course. When the waiter had set down our drinks and departed, Parker lifted his in a toast.
“Cheers,” he said before taking a drink.
I took a sip of my cocktail as well. Yum. Just what I needed. I let out a long, quiet sigh.
“Sorry your flight was so bad,” Parker said. “Make sure you call and have Travel upgrade you for the return flight.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, concealing my surprise. I would definitely take that upgrade.
A few awkward moments passed where we didn’t speak, just sipped our respective drinks. I avoided his gaze, instead people-watching the other customers.
“I know it’s none of my business,” he carefully began, “but are you and Ryker…together? Dating?”
I stiffened. “Listen, I really don’t want to talk about it, or be insulted again.”
“What I said earlier, it came out wrong,” Parker said. “You’re a smart, attractive woman. I didn’t mean you aren’t worthy of the attention. It’s more like he’s not worthy of yours.”
I stared at him, his blue eyes focused intently on me. Had he just said I was smart and attractive, then followed it up with a diss on Ryker that doubled as a compliment for me?
“Ryker uses people,” Parker said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “I’d once thought nothing could come between us. I was wrong. Don’t let him use you, Sage. That’s all I’m saying.”
Knowing how Ryker was indeed using me to spy on Parker and our new clients, it wasn’t as if I could defend him. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about Natalie, but I kept silent. The fact that Parker was even telling me this much about Ryker and their past was a huge deal. If I pushed, he’d probably clam up again.
“It must have been hard,” I said, “losing a friend that you were so close to.”
Parker’s gaze was steady and I wondered if I’d crossed that line again, but he answered.
“It was,” he said. “You don’t forget it, and I don’t know if you ever really get over it. You just…move on.” He tipped up his glass, emptying the rest of the martini in one swallow. I took that as my cue to change the subject.
“Who exactly are we meeting tonight?” I asked. The information Sylvia had sent me for these customers had been vague, which was unusual. They’d only wanted to communicate directly with Parker rather than me, which had been a bit insulting, honestly. But they were new clients with a lot of money, so I’d kept my mouth shut and let Parker handle it.
As I’d known he would, Parker had the information memorized. “Viktor Rowan is the man we’ll be meeting,” he said. “He has an interesting history. Used to be Russian FSB before he was promoted to the head of the Central Bank of Russia.”
“FSB?” I asked.
“Russia’s foreign security service,” Parker clarified. “They’ve been around for a while, but absorbed a lot of former KGB as well as the functions they performed.”
I swallowed. None of that sounded good.
“So if he works for their national bank, then why are we meeting with him?” I asked.
“He didn’t stay there,” he explained. “He went to work for Bank ZNT a few years ago. A lot of banks in Russia aren’t privately owned but partially owned by the government. Bank ZNT is the largest of those. It bought a handful of smaller, private banks last year. Rowan wants to place over three billion dollars of shares on the market by next month, and that’s only ten percent of the bank’s equity.”
The waiter returned with our food and we stopped talking for a moment as we began eating.
Wow. Three billion dollars. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that kind of money.
“It seems kind of strange,” I said, after a few minutes—the lobster pot pie was really good and I didn’t even want to think about how many calories I was consuming. “Why would someone who worked in foreign intelligence go into banking, of all things?”
“Russia’s economy can be dicey and difficult to navigate,” Parker said, slicing another bite of his steak. “The government keeps a tight grip on the banks and currency rate and are always watching to see who’s buying up shares of which banks. Rowan has a degree in Economics and is worth over a hundred million dollars. I imagine he serves several functions for them in his role as head of ZNT.”
“So the guy who…talked to me Friday,” I said, “he works for ZNT?” He’d done more than talk to me, but I didn’t want to dwell on that.
“Probably.”
I thought about what Ryker had told me. “So, are you sure these guys are on the up-and-up?” I asked. “That they’re not criminals or…mobsters or something?”
“The Russian mafia is a big part of their economy over there,” Parker said. “They extort protection money from a lot of businesses and the government looks the other way. Getting involved with any Russian bank is a risk.”
“Then why do it?”
He looked at me like I was a ditz. “The money, of course. These guys want to raise three billion dollars by selling shares of their bank; that’s three hundred million in commission for us, twenty p
ercent of which will be mine.”
I looked back down at my pot pie, pushing bits around with my fork. That was a lot of money.
“Why are they coming to Chicago for this kind of deal?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they go to a big firm in New York or something?”
“Are you doubting my skill?”
I glanced up at the teasing note in his voice. A smile played about Parker’s lips.
“Of course not,” I said, smiling a little myself. “It was just a question.”
“I’d imagine they’re trying to avoid scrutiny from the feds,” he said. “There was a case a few years back, a Russian bank owned by the mafia laundering millions through a New York firm. Chicago is slightly less high-profile.”
“Was Hinton working on this?” I asked.
Parker nodded. “He’d been putting this together for months. I’m stepping in at the last minute to close them.”
The waiter reappeared and took our empty plates, leaving the bill for Parker.
“So you’re sure they’re legit, then?” I asked. “Even with what happened Friday?”
Parker was busy signing the check and didn’t look up as he replied. “The deal book looks good to me. Investors will be made aware it’s a partially government-owned bank. Those with that kind of money are fully cognizant of the risks associated with investing in Russia.”
And it seemed the subject was closed. Parker hadn’t specifically answered my question, but he didn’t seem worried about it.
He stood, politely waiting for me to precede him out of the restaurant as I digested this. I trusted Parker, but I was anxious. “Former FSB aka former KGB” didn’t sound altogether reassuring to me. While I didn’t think naiveté was something Parker was prone to, I wondered if the money to be made from this deal would make him want to look the other way.
And if I were absolutely honest with myself, I was a little hurt that Parker had so quickly dismissed the way I’d been threatened Friday. It didn’t make sense. He’d seemed so angry that night, but now he’d just kind of shrugged it off. I was confused, but didn’t say anything.
The elevator ride back up to the hotel room was quiet, as was the walk down the hallway. When Parker reached around me to slide the key card into the slot, I had to push aside the strangeness I again felt as my thoughts went from Bank ZNT back to sharing a room with Parker.
Once inside, he discarded his jacket and sat at the desk, logging back in to his laptop and pulling folders from his briefcase. Copying him, I retrieved my laptop and booted it up. Looked like it was time to get to work, so we did.
Chapter Seven
A knock at the hotel room door startled me, and I glanced up from my laptop.
“I’ll get it,” Parker said, already on his way to the door.
I heard him talking and leaned over on the bed where I was sitting cross-legged with my laptop. A man stood there and I caught a glimpse of him past Parker. Shorter, with dark hair and glasses. They were talking kind of low, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Parker stepped inside and I hurriedly sat back so it wouldn’t be quite so obvious that I’d been eavesdropping.
“Who was that?” I asked as the door swung shut.
“Wrong room,” he replied, heading back to the desk.
I went back to work, flipping the page on the legal pad filled with Parker’s scrawl, which I was transcribing.
“Your laptop is going to overheat if you keep it on that pillow,” Parker said, glancing at me.
I looked down. I’d put the pillow on my lap so I could sit comfortably on my bed and still work on the computer without flashing Parker a crotch shot, not that he’d notice. He’d been working nonstop since we’d gotten back from lunch four hours ago.
“Well, I don’t have anywhere else to sit,” I said with a shrug.
Parker glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to go work out before dinner. You can use the desk.”
“Okay. What time is dinner?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Where are we going?”
“They’re sending a car,” he replied, unzipping his suitcase and taking out some clothes. He disappeared into the bathroom.
Sending a car, eh? Fancy.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and I reflexively looked up. My jaw dropped open and I quickly snapped it shut.
Parker was gorgeous in a suit and I’d rarely seen him in anything more casual. And I’d never seen him in workout clothes because—holy hell—I would’ve remembered.
He was wearing black athletic shorts and a dark gray tank that molded itself to his chest. His arms were bare and, boy, was I ever grateful for that. Muscles that his suits had only hinted at were now on full display; his biceps and shoulders were so well defined he could have posed for a magazine shoot.
I watched with too much interest as he crouched down to tie his shoelaces. I was treated to a mouthwatering view of his back that had me wishing I could see through cotton.
“I won’t be gone long,” he said, glancing at me.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Okay,” I blurted, jerking my gaze away from him. Lord, but I needed a date. Soon. I focused on my laptop so I wouldn’t stare at Parker.
I heard the door close and let out a sigh of relief. Holy shit.
I pretended to work for a few minutes before I finally gave up. I needed a drink. Or chocolate. Probably both, but since I’d already had two drinks today (hello, empty calories), chocolate would have to do.
Grabbing my purse, I fished out a couple of dollar bills, grabbed a key card, and stepped out of the room. A quick search of the hallway turned up not a single vending machine. After checking the brochure back in the room, I saw that the vending machines were only located on one floor—the same one as the workout room.
“Well, that’s just cruel,” I muttered. So I had to walk by treadmills, elliptical bikes, and weight machines to get a candy bar? Nice.
But…maybe I’d catch a glimpse of Parker actually working out, which would totally be worth it.
The elevator dumped me out on the fifth floor and I padded barefoot down the carpeted hallway. Glass windows on my left showcased a huge workout room with more machines than I’d seen in some gyms. Trying to appear nonchalant as I walked by, I searched for Parker, but was disappointed. Maybe he’d gone for a run around the block or something rather than use a machine. I had no idea what he did for working out.
An alcove at the far end of the hall held two measly vending machines, which had both nearly been cleaned out. I had my choice of a Milky Way bar or Almond Joy, neither of which was peanut M&M’s—my favorite—but would do in a pinch.
Punching the button for the Almond Joy, movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The door to the stairwell had a small window and it looked like someone stood on the opposite side. I wondered if they’d gotten locked out somehow and took a step toward the door, only to stop.
It was Parker, and he wasn’t alone.
The man who’d come by our room stood with him and they were talking. I could see their lips moving.
Instinct had me backing slowly away and slipping around the corner so I wouldn’t be seen. It was beyond weird. Did Parker know that guy? If so, why had he told me that he’d gotten the wrong room? Why were they talking in a stairwell?
I didn’t know what to make of it; then I heard the door open. I scooted farther inside the vending machine alcove and pressed against the wall just as Parker passed by. After waiting a few seconds, I eased around the corner again and hurried down the opposite hallway from the workout room.
It shouldn’t have bothered me so much—what Parker did was his business, not mine—but it did. He didn’t usually lie outright to me, and hard as I tried, I couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation.
When I got back to the room, I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d been afraid Parker would catch me and think I was spying on him, which I hadn’t been. But if he didn’t want me to know something, he certainly wouldn’t
take kindly to me finding out by accident.
I plopped onto the bed, only then just realizing I’d forgotten my candy bar in the vending machine.
Well, shit.
* * *
By the time Parker came back, I’d dressed for dinner. A few weeks ago, I hadn’t been able to resist buying a new cocktail dress and I’d been dying to wear it ever since. It was a deep scarlet, which brought out a scattering of red highlights in my hair, long-sleeved with a jeweled boat neckline. Though that made it seem conservative, it was form-hugging and the hemline was well above mid-thigh, but it was the back that sealed the deal and the reason I’d bought the dress.
The entire back was cut out all the way down to my waist. Other than the bit of fabric over my shoulders from the sleeves, the only thing holding it on were two jewel-encrusted strips that ran from the collar down to my waist. They sparkled and drew the eye, making what would seem just a pretty dress jaw-droppingly stunning when I turned around.
I’d woven my hair in two loose French braids on either side of my head, then pinned it up, leaving some strands to escape and wisp around my neck. Sparkly bronze eye shadow paired with a bit of deep, matte brown and I had smoky eyes. I added dangly silver earrings and had just finished spraying my perfume when the hotel room door opened and Parker walked in.
A sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the light and he was still breathing hard from exertion. Tossing the key card onto his bed, he glanced over at me and froze.
Oh God. I could smell him. Not in that bad construction-worker-sweat-and-dirt kind of way, but in that man-who’s-pushed-himself-hard kind of way. Pheromones were a powerful thing and I took way too deep of a whiff.
“So, how was your workout?” I blurted, uncomfortable under his stare.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
