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In the past week, he had thought of Demidov a few times, wondering if he had anything to do with the kidnapping, but he had dismissed the idea. Roman was a condescending prick, and his eyes totally creeped Luke out, but it didn’t necessarily mean the guy was a criminal. He had told himself “filthy-rich Russian tycoons” didn’t equal “Russian mafia.” Well, clearly he’d been wrong in this case.
You have the survival instincts and intuition of a wet wad of napkin. Bc of course it’s him!! He’s the only one who knows you were in that restaurant
As the private lift took him to the penthouse, Roman wondered grimly if he was losing his mind. Was he really letting a few soft-spoken words get to him? Had he really canceled his flight to Italy for an opportunity to…to do what, exactly? He couldn’t believe he was letting a twenty-three-year-old kid sway him so easily only by saying he needed him. Fucking unbelievable.
“I’m not easy to kill, solnyshko,” he said, and for the first time he noticed there was no trace of mockery in the endearment. Perhaps there hadn’t been for a while. Solnyshko fit. Sunshine. His little sun. Luke gave a small smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I’m sure my father thought the same. Please?”

