Page 134 of Hate to Love You

“Yes,” Abby nods, trying to hand the woman her card.

However, I stop her, putting my hand on top of Abby’s and throwing a $100 bill on the bar top.

“Oh, I’ve got hers,” I say with a smile, watching as the girl immediately smiles back at me, my earlier moodiness apparently forgotten.

“And I don’t need change, honey,” I say with a wink. “After all, I’ve got all I need right here, don’t I?”

I slide the napkin with her phone number out from under the glass, and put it in my pocket, making Abby’s polite smile instantly disappear.

“Hehe, I guess so,” the bartender giggles, biting her lip. “I hope I’ll hear from you then.”

“Perhaps you will,” I wink back at her.

Abby stiffens, a bright shade of red now flooding her cheeks as she glares at the bartender once more, telling me it’s the perfect time to go.

Let her sit in it.

“Well,” I say, standing to my feet, and tapping Abby on the shoulder. “I do hope you feel better soon, Abigail. We will certainly miss you at the office.”

Turning on my heel, I do my best to stifle my smirk as I head quickly toward the door, leaving an obviously frustrated and flustered Abigail standing there.

However, as I touch the handle of the door I turn back around, snapping my fingers.

“Oh, I almost forgot! I will need you to get better by Friday,” I say, watching as Abby turns her murderous glare to me. “Because I’m taking you to a Gala. Professionally, of course, so don’t worry, I’ll respect your wishes and won’t cross any boundaries. But you will need a dress. An evening gown preferably. Not a tennis skirt.”

“A what?” I hear Abby ask behind me, but this time I slip out into the street, unable to hide my laughter any longer.

“He didn’t show up for work this morning at eight,” Cal says to me from the driver’s seat. “Noah went by the house and said that he had to kick the door in.”

“Do they know how he died yet?” I ask, nonchalantly checking the app and seeing Abby’s little dot speedily making its way toward Forest Hills.

She’s going home.

“Not yet, Boss,” Cal sighs. “But he wasn’t shot, and Noah said he didn’t see anything recreational. He just passed out on the couch, clutching his chest.”

“So…another heart attack?”

“Looks that way,” Cal replies. “But we’ll know as soon as we get the coroner’s report.”

I say nothing, but then again nothing needs to be said.

Cal knows as well as I do that something about this seems highly suspicious, but it doesn’t change the fact that two of my men are dead.

And I have no idea why.

Chapter Twenty

ABBY

A fucking Gala.

That infuriating man wants me to attend a gala with him.

“Professionally.”

That’s what he said, but I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

To be honest, nothing about my relationship with Roman Antonov has been professional.