An empire. That is what he had built. An empire. 

Now, somehow, she was going to be here in it with him. Originally, he'd done all of this for her, though he was sure she had no idea why. Stubborn as she was, he doubted she’d even want to hear him explain it. Surely by joining him here in his space she would see what he’d been trying to do for her for all of these years. 

Marijuana. The federal government kept it illegal, even though it did so much good. These issues that plagued so many people, like anxiety and insomnia, were so treatable. Yet, research would never be funded to hone it into a proper medicine because of the irrational taboo that surrounded it. Thus, an empire was born.

"Lance, you can't trust this bitch. She's a fucking cop." Brick, no, Darius rushed into his office in a furious panic. The spacious room with spectacular views suddenly felt smaller with Darius’s anger flooding into it.

Lance snapped out a response, "Oh-and what? Once a cop, always a cop? Are you so dimwitted to believe a cliche like that?" He never snapped. It surprised him almost as much as it did Darius. “You gotta stop calling women bitches, Darius.” He sighed and walked over to look out one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Darius shook his head and kept going. "All I'm saying is that you can't trust her, boss. If I brought someone in who was a cop, a former detective no less-would you trust her? Hell no. You'd tell me I was--I don't know--out of my fucking mind, perhaps?" Darius started pacing the room like an angry cat. Lance was his boss, but he’d always encouraged Darius to speak his mind. They weren't drinking buddies or anything. But his opinion had always carried more weight with Lance than any of the other guys. And damnit, he was going to make sure the boss understood how stupid of an idea this was.

"She slips you a note...Wait! No. She hands me a note outside of the building to give to you. No details. No name. No safety. Not to mention her just showing up out of the blue and scaring the ever living shit outta me. (Don’t even get me started on how she knew to hand it to me.) And you just...go?!...I gotta know...how the hell did you even know it was her?! Did you?! You just went, didn't you!? You didn’t even know! What if it was one of the Sweeny’s? What if it was the fucking DEA? Did you think about that?" Darius's voice turned mocking. "Noooo. 'It's her perfume. I'd know it anywhere. And no one swirls their effs like that...It's her. It has to be.'"

"Watch your tone." Lance said quietly. He was getting fed up. Mostly because he knew Darius was right. Darius had to know it too cause he kept tirading. Sure, he’d gone to the bar armed. But not taking any security with him? Or at least one of the other guys? He was slipping.

"So off you trot. To maybe meet up with a perky young thing you used to want to nail. What? Did you think you'd finally get your chance? Didn’t it cross your mind that she might try to flip you?!" Lance stood from his chair. He'd had enough. His judgement was unerringly sound when it came to Jax, and he knew that he could trust her. Right? He could trust her? The uncertainty made him angry.

Lance stood toe to toe with Darius. "I'm having her followed, Darius. Max looked over her rental while I was with her the other night. Lazlo confirmed that the chief herself fired her. What else you got?" Lance saved violence for the very rare cases. After all, his business was built on the mission to help not harm. But he was beginning to think that a swift punch to Darius’s nose might be just the thing to keep his own blood from boiling over.

“I don't know man." Darius backed down. He finally realized he'd crossed the line. "Just think about it. A former cop? Trying to get in touch with you after all this time?" He shook his head. "Wanting a job?" He looked Lance in the eye, trying to help him see reason. "Ask yourself why she asked you of all people for a job. With her record she could have been a PI or something. Or found a better job on the West Coast. Hell, she coulda done private security or something. Why you, boss? Why here?" He sat down on the luxurious couch next to the window.

Lance shook his head and pointed at the door. "Not today Darius. I have a lot of work to do, and I'll never get it done with you barking in my ear."

Darius stalked out of the room. He'd said what he needed to say. Lance was smart enough to figure out the rest. At least he hoped so. Thinking about this woman who had the boss so wrapped up in trust, he looked forward to officially meeting her for himself. He wanted to see what all the hype was about. Sure, she was stunningly beautiful. But was she worth risking all Lance had worked so hard to build?

Sinking into his chair, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn't have handled much more questioning. Darius was right. God, he was so right. He was being a pig headed moron. But he loved her. To this day, he loved her. Her idealistic mind, her blind faith in a God he knew didn't exist, her stubbornness, her deep abiding care for people around her. Each attribute more intoxicating than the last. Thankfully, resisting them was like riding a bike. He knew how, and he still could. But for the love of all that was holy, why did she have to look like this now? She'd been beautiful when they first met, sure. He’d never seen anyone more glowingly stunning. But she’d been hidden by the fading softness of adolescence. Now that she was older, every inch of her seemed sculpted to torment him. 

He knew the moment that he saw her last night that he would never be able to be in a room alone with her if they wanted to maintain any semblance of social decorum. Yes. He was an absolute moron. To agree to let her come work for him was one of the most idiotic things he’d done in his life. But his mother didn’t raise a man who would go back on his word. So, he was stuck.

Elvia's Southern drawl sounded from his desk phone. "Young lady here to see you, Mr. Kozlov. Wild red hair? Name's Jasmine? I fixed her up with an espresso. She’s seated in the lobby. Should I send her in now that Darius has left?"

He groaned into his hands. After just deciding to not see her, here she was knocking at his door, ready to be in his office alone with him. Was she stupid? "Thank you Elvia. Please have her wait 5 minutes, and then you may send her in."

"You got it." The curiosity in Elvia’s voice was audible. His happily married secretary looked out for him like she was his sister. And the mere fact of Jasmine’s existence in his life was sure to spark some sort of protective instinct.

Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out a small wooden box. He would need to be high for this conversation. Or at least more relaxed than he was now. Marissa had shut the door on any physical or emotional affection long before they were divorced. He had no interest in casual dating. So when Jax walked out of his life all those years ago, he’d been fundamentally alone. He needed to be calm enough to keep a rigid grip on his self control if he was going to be alone in this office for any length of time with that temptress.

A buzz on the intercom in warning, a soft tap on the door, and that was it. She was in the office. Wild had been an understatement. She hadn't done anything to tame her curls, and they didn't like being contained in that flimsy excuse for a bun. One lock of hair was curled around her eyebrow. Its sheen in the light called to him like flame to a moth.

"Hey Lance-Mr. Kozlov?"

"Lance." Reflexively.

"Can I come in?" 

Nod.

"Do you want the door closed? Open?" Her piercing eyes were softly rimmed in a kohl liner that made her clear eyes even more penetrating, and his knees even more weak. He felt he could barely speak. “Lance?”

He would need to use more than his neck or single syllables to respond to her. Clearing his throat, he was barely able to get out, "Which are you more comfortable with?"

Smile wry, she closed the door and sank into the exact spot that Darius had been sitting in ten minutes ago. Funnily enough, the two personalities were not so different; volatile, intense. But one was infinitely more appealing to Lance than the other. Forced to join her, he brought his box with him. It didn't seem like she needed to relax, but he had a feeling he was going to need a refresher on his relaxation soon.

"How can I help you today, Jasmine?" Straight. To the point. Keep it brief, and get her out of here. That dress was killing him. Modest, professional, classy even. But damn. It was going to make him disintegrate into pieces if he wasn’t careful. 

“We agreed that we’d go over some of the specifics of my job this morning? Don’t you remember? You told me to stop by your office when you were leaving last night.” Seeing Lance so shaken was surprising to Jax. When they’d left each other last night, he had demanded her number, and told her under no uncertain terms that they would have coffee tomorrow morning in his office. Now he seemed confused that she was there at all. And here she’d been so sure he was under her thumb.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Clearly, the weed was just making him look like more of an ass than he already was. “God, I’m sorry Jasmine. I actually forgot.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?” she asked, teasingly.

A small smile. “Not that much. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.” It wasn’t the alcohol that had made him forget. Leaving her after just a few hours of talking had been like ripping out a piece of himself. He knew he’d said a lot in that parking lot. Mostly though, it was just him stalling. The ravenous beast in his chest was glad for it, though. Having her so close was feeding its addiction.

She hadn’t answered his text message last night. He’d stared at his phone for hours waiting. He almost sent someone to check on her. Thankfully he’d practiced restraint. None of his people needed to see how weak she made him.

He gathered his laptop and a notebook from his desk. When he sat back down, he realized that she’d moved almost imperceptibly closer. Almost. A deep breath was a mistake though, because he inhaled that same deadly perfume she’d worn the night before. 

It was starting to annoy him. He felt like a dumb teenager when she was around. His lizard brain was railing at him to do things to her that had nothing to do with words. Unfortunately, they weren’t even close to ready for something like that. Yet.

Doing his best to snap into businessman mode, he opened the company’s database. “What sort of work were you looking for, exactly?”