Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(32)

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?”

“Evet, Gabriel Bey,” she answers with more obedience than usual. Hearing her try so hard to speak Turkish almost makes me smile.

“Stop worrying that I’ll throw you out on the street or send you back to Mazur.”

The corner of Lara’s mouth threatens to lift into a smile as relief fills her eyes.

Those damn eyes.

“And I won’t kill you, so stop worrying about that.”

Her eyes are glued to mine, and I see the moment the fear leaves her. It’s as if she exhales it from her body.

Fuck, I should’ve had this talk sooner.

Lastly, I say, “There are no more restrictions. You’re allowed to move freely around the house. Murat will still be around but only as protection for when Emre and I are at work.”

A look of wonder washes over her features. “I’m allowed in the east wing?”

“Yes.” To make sure she understands, I add, “And you can walk around the house alone.”

This time her mouth curves up into a breathtaking smile. “Thank you, Gabriel Bey.”

“Just Gabriel,” I murmur as I return her smile.

It feels like we’ve finally taken a step forward. “How do you feel today?”

“Much better.” She scoots to the edge of the chair. “Can I leave my bedroom tomorrow?”

There’s a twisting emotion in my heart. Having this woman constantly asking for my approval does something to me.

“Yes.”