Leveled: A Novella (Saints of Denver #0.5)(12)

He sounded amused when he responded, “Ah, but Mina…” he paused for effect, “Who would be around to hear you?”

***

Morning broke and, like most days, I woke with the sun.

I hadn’t slept so well since…well…ever. I felt rested and refreshed. I couldn’t seem to find the strength to leave the warm covers of the bed, but the bathroom called my name in a semi-urgent way. I thought about waking Lev to ask him where the toilet was since there hadn’t been one in the en suite but decided against it. I didn’t want to be a pain.

Removing the covers without a sound, I slipped out of bed and made my way on my tiptoes to the door. I pressed on the lever, but it stuck. Frowning, I looked down to see a key inside the lock.

Why was this door locked from the inside?

I didn’t have time to think about it. I gently turned it, heard the latch click over, and thankfully the door opened without a squeak. I slipped through undetected.

I walked delicately down the hall, attempting to open doors as I went. The first two were locked. I got lucky on the third. It was exactly what I needed and I took my time, grateful for a moment to myself.

My time on the streets meant I was used to my own company. It felt weird to be around people. I supposed that was something I would have to get comfortable with quickly, seeing as I was going to be working serving drinks to people. Bartenders were expected to be social, and I mentally vowed to do my best to not come across awkward.

I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, and then opened the door and shrieked. Loudly.

Lev stood there, dressed only in a pair of grey boxers, leaning against the wall, blinking his eyes sleepily.

Clutching my heaving chest, I panted, “I needed to use the bathroom.”

His voice heavy with sleep, he muttered, “I can see that.”

My cheeks began to burn. “You didn’t show me where the toilet was last night.”

He blinked again. “I realize that.”

My palms began to sweat. Eyes wide, I blurted out an anxious, “I wasn’t stealing anything.”

His eyes roamed my shirt-clad body. “No, it doesn’t look like you were.”

I then felt the need to remind him, “I left your watch on the bathroom counter.”

He gestured with a jerk of his chin down to his wrist…where the watch was, secured tightly.

“Okay,” I whispered in relief. I swallowed hard then nodded once. “Okay then.”

Pushing himself off the wall, he stretched languidly in a feline manner. I spied the muscles of his abdomen tighten in a most delicious way. My eyes were drawn to the small smatter of hair leading from his bellybutton down lower still.

It was then I noticed I was looking directly at his material-covered crotch. With a light gasp, I turned my face to look straight up and stared at his chest.

He scratched lightly at the stubble on his steely jaw. “We should dress for breakfast.”

Yes! my mind yelled. Clothes are good!

I followed him back into the bedroom and saw my clothes neatly folded on the nightstand. He must have taken them out of the dryer in the middle of the night.

The pile was small. I went through it, my brow bunching in confusion. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”

Walking into the closet, he replied coolly, “Where they belong. The trash.”

Anger ignited, but I spoke calmly. “They were all I had.”

“I know.”

Irritation clear, I pulled on my one clean pair of panties underneath the long shirt. My black jeans followed, and with my back to the closet, I slipped off the black shirt to replace it with my white tee. I looked down and cussed softly.

My nipples had come out to say hello. “Where’s my bra?”

He walked out of the closet, still in boxers, and going about his business without looking at me, he uttered, “I told you. The trash.”

Lifting the black shirt to hide my lady lumps, I gaped in shock before sputtering, “It was the only one I had!”

“It was threadbare.”

“It did the job,” I returned, falling into hysteria.

Hearing my prickliness, he turned his face up to look at me then eyed my chest before raising a brow. “You don’t need a bra.”

My face flamed. I hugged my arms around myself as tight as I could without folding into myself.

Well, that was rude. He should’ve just told me my tits were tiny and one needed to pull down my pants to make sure that I was, in fact, female.

Man, this guy was doing wonders for my self-esteem.

“I need to shower,” he stated. “And you will wait right here.”

My surly response of ‘Sir, yes, sir’ was cut off as the bathroom door closed behind him.

Great. Just great.

I waited obediently on the edge of the bed and silently wondered whether putting my faith in a man I didn’t know was a terribly good idea.





Chapter Seven

Mina



Lev, freshly showered and dressed in a gunmetal grey three-piece suit over a crisp white shirt, led me out the back door of his house, down a scenic path to an even larger house.

We walked in complete silence, but as we approached the front door, he ordered quietly, “Don’t talk.”

Repositioning the giant cashmere sweater he lent me, I nodded, allowing him to take me by the hand and lead me down a near identical foyer to his own and to the right, into a large dining room. A tray of fruit sat in the center of the table with two vases full of decorative greenery on either ends. A man sat at the long table in the well-lit room, reading the newspaper, his ankle resting across his knee. He was also dressed in a suit, but, unlike Lev, he was kind of scary-looking.