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“What are we waiting for?” I breathe.
“Absolutely nothing.”
33
TAYLOR
The next day after work, I stop over at Elsa’s and Hades’ place to meet baby Bella in person. We managed a quick FaceTime weeks ago when she was first born. But they were exhausted, plus Elsa was dealing with some painful new-mom mastitis.
Now, though, even though they’re in the thick of it, and they do still look utterly exhausted, it’s like entering a world of smiles when I stop by. Elsa is all glows. Hades, figurative king of the underworld that he is, can’t stop grinning, or nuzzling his newborn daughter. It’s a miracle he even lets her out of his arms long enough for me to hold her.
Their place is pure chaos, but it’s a loving chaos. Plus, Elsa’s much younger sister, Nora, is on-hand playing the very proud, excited aunt, and helping out wherever she can.
Elsa, of course, wants to talk business immediately, and tries to tell me she’ll be back in the office full time by next week, latest.
I tell her if I see her inside the Crown and Black offices before two months from now, I’ll formally ask the board to fire her.
Hades grins and gives me a big thumbs up from behind his wife’s back.
I get home late, and cranky. Not at all because of the adorable baby girl I’ve just had sleeping soundly against my shoulder, and all the feelings that stirs up. Okay, maybe. But also, Drazen’s just called to let me know it’s looking more like a three- or even four-day trip.
With Milos here watching me—even though I don’t need that at all—Drazen’s had Zoran, one of his other top guys, with him as they zero in on the head of the Belov Bratva. They had Vadik’s whereabouts pinned at a safe house in Slovenia. But when they broke down the door, it was clear they’d just missed the fucker.
“We’ve got a lead that he’s in Serbia now,” Drazen growls into the phone as one of his men opens the front door of the massive penthouse for me. “We’re headed there now.”
“I just miss you,” I blurt, feeling like a complete dork. “I mean, I know it’s stupid, you’ve been gone for like one?—”
“I miss you, too,” he growls.
I feel myself smile. “What are the odds.”
Drazen chuckles. “Where are you?”
“I just got home—” I pause. “I mean, your place.”
“Keep calling it home,” he murmurs. “I like it.”
I smile. “Me too.”
“Are you alone?”
I feel heat throb in my core. “Yes…” I murmur quietly, sucking my lip between my teeth.
“Then I’d like you to walk into the living area.”
I giggle. “Which one?”
Drazen’s New York penthouse is massive. It’s at the very top of one of the newest ultra high-rises on “billionaire’s row” by Central Park, looking out over all of Manhattan from near cloud-level.
And by “Drazen’s penthouse”—singular—I mean penthouses, plural: Drazen bought three of the mega-expensive units and had them renovated and merged into what has got to be one of the most expensive pieces of real estate in the city. There are literally three “living areas”, and they’re each almost as big as my entire apartment.
And I’ve got a nice apartment.
“The one with the piano.”
I walk through the stunning home with the sky-high views until I get to the concert grand Steinway sitting near a massive double-height wall of windows overlooking Manhattan.
“I’m there,” I whisper.
