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Chapter Three
At a quarter to eleven, I stepped outside our building on 71st Street and craned my neck, looking for my ride. A black Mercedes, with Tasa’s former chauffeur-slash-bodyguard at the wheel, rolled to the curb by the entrance. Nikki stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the back passenger door for me with a nod. I settled inside, the plush leather seat smooth under my fingertips, and tried engaging him in conversation. He was stubbornly silent. His stoic face might as well have been carved out of marble for all I could get out of him. I had no idea how Tasa ever got him to talk, much less how she’d convinced him to allow her up in the front passenger seat. Apparently, he was smitten with her. No surprise there.
Long before her father’s very public assassination, I had already learned that Tasa didn’t come from an ordinary family. The word mafia had been whispered about her from the time we were in elementary school. By the time I understood the significance of what her family did, it was too late. She was already my bestie and my crush on her brother had long been well established in my soul.
The drive across the city to Sunnyside, Queens was nerve-racking, but Nikki finally stopped the car in front of the Dacia Café. Owned by the Lupu family, it was situated next door to Tasa’s house, which was next door from my house. Thank God, it was the middle of the day and my mother was at work. As a regional manager of a countrywide floor installation company, I’d bet my last dollar that she was on some conference call with a subsidiary out West.
As awkward as it was to wait in the back seat for Nikki to hold the door for me, I knew better than to do it myself. I watched impatiently as he stepped out of the car, circled around the trunk, and opened the door. I paused at the entrance to the café for him to prop the door open for me before I passed through. Again, I waited for him to usher me across the ground floor bustling with patrons, to a set of stairs near the back that led up to Alex’s office.
Knocking gently, he waited until a deep-bass tone vibrated through the thick wooden door, ordering us to enter. Nikki swung the door open, prodded me forward with a little shove, and firmly shut it behind me. It swooshed closed with a soft click, and there I was, alone in the same room as Alex. Pressing up against the padded leather upholstery of the door, the indentation of the squabs molded against my back.
Lifting my eyes to him, I swallowed over my suddenly parched throat. My courage shriveled into nothing. My intention to scold him about Tasa died a quick death. Sheesh, I’d be lucky if I managed to speak normally.
Lord, he’s as gorgeous as always.
Alex sat behind a majestic antique wooden desk at the other end of the lengthy room. His taste leaned toward the past, but without the gaudiness that so attracted his mother. My eyes darted around the room, from medieval wall hangings to little classical paintings, with delicate lamps casting light over them.
I crept over the expensive, plush rug and almost stumbled as I passed a frame hanging from the wall. I blinked. Is that a L-Leonardo drawing? Sure looked like one, but I didn’t have the guts to stop and inspect it closely. Beneath the drawing was a credenza with a variety of liquor bottles and cut crystal. A little farther off was a small table with a chessboard and two chairs. Intricately carved pieces of ivory and black wood were spread across the board as if the players had stopped midgame. Everything was somewhat familiar. The leather, silk, and luxury were reminiscent of Tasa’s familial home, but the office was markedly simple and masculine. God, I could imagine a room like this in my home, when I finally settled down.
Surely Alex heard the door open and shut, but he continued to work on his laptop uninterrupted. Reaching his desk, I stood with my hands clasped in front of me and waited. After a few moments, he pushed back the large bloodred oxford leather armchair he was sitting in. Uncoiling his body like a lazy panther, arrogantly confident, he rose to his feet.
My gaze followed his rise until he towered over me.
I’d known this man practically my entire life. I’d seen him at Tasa’s home, the café, and even at the apartment I shared with her. This was one of the rare times we were alone. My blood pumped hard, and my heart thumped double time in my chest.
I swallowed the flashback of the one time I’d seen him half dressed, as he thrust into…never mind. Hesitantly, I took a step closer. The fingers of one of my hands curled over the back of the chair facing his desk and clawed the thick leather.
His glittering eyes watched me intently, scrutinizing me as if I were a small rabbit. Feeling distinctly vulnerable, I bit down on my bottom lip. Granted, I was always nervous around him. Always wanted him to see me as more than Tasa’s friend.
In the past, I’d lost my faculties of speech once or twice, but to be the center of his complete focus was a whole other level of unnerving. Silence reigned, and I didn’t have the nerve to break it.
As always, he exuded an otherworldly beauty that shunted the breath out of my lungs. It wasn’t simply that he towered over me, that his broad shoulders blocked out the light coming from the windows behind him, that the bulges of his defined biceps stretched the sleeves of his jacket. He’d always worked out. As a youth, he was into competitive fencing. Even now, two crossed fencing swords hung on the wall behind him, above his head.
His sable hair was impeccably combed and coiffed, although I knew that it curled up on the sides when he sweat, one rogue lock falling over his forehead. A broad forehead that looked as if it was cut from a single block of granite. But it was his eyes that took my breath away. Deep green, with lighter shards that danced, teasing me. Those glittering emerald eyes were flinty and soft at the same time. He was the most beautiful male specimen I’d laid eyes on.
Worse still was the underlying aura rippling beneath the surface. I always felt it as a sexual, languid thing, like some spell had been cast over me while he licked his chops, circling me like I was his next meal. The hairs on my nape pricked up in fear, excitement, and…stupor. It made no sense. No sense at all. But there it was. That was the effect this man had on me.
Fidgeting ever so slightly from foot to foot, I couldn’t take the silence anymore and blurted out, “What’s going on, Alex? Where’s Tasa?”
He continued to watch me in that intense, predatory way of his. His jaw tightened, adding to the jut of its razor-edged sharpness. Sheesh, I could cut a hole in the drywall with that thing.
“You tell me, Nina,” he drawled back, the gravel in his voice like roughened fingertips rasping over my heated skin. His voice resembled the best cognac.
To keep the silence at bay, I whooshed out in a rush, “I got a text from Tasa. She’s run away but says she’s safe. She sent the same text to your grandmother.”
My eyes swept down to the rug and stayed there, evading his intense gaze. In that moment, I forgave Tasa completely for not telling me a thing. I’d do anything he wanted without a second thought. If he told me to drop to my knees and open my mouth to receive his cock, I’d do it. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fought to block out the image of his huge cock. Because I had seen it. I knew.
Great, now I was getting wet. Discreetly rubbing my thighs together, I reprimanded myself. Not now, Nina. NOT NOW.
But forcing myself to stop thinking about his junk didn’t alter the truth. Without skipping a beat, I’d gladly fall to my knees and beg him. I was putty in his hands. Putty.
Snapping my eyes open, I licked my lips at the thought of his cock tucked away inside that pristine suit. A suit I’d love to muss up by making him come all over it. His eyes darkened, like a line of evergreens on the side of a winter mountain. Falling into them, I saw nothing but green. I could drown in that color.
“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing impatiently as he glided elegantly around the desk and approached me.
I jumped to do as he asked. Uncurling my death grip on the chair, I scurried around and dropped into the nearest seat. He reached my side and crouched beside my chair. My mouth went bone dry. Swallowing to get any saliva down my parched throat, I stared down into his face. I was riveted, my pulse pounding in my eardrums at his nearness.
He was so close I caught the faint sandalwood of his cologne. Dear God. A little gasp escaped. I cursed myself under my breath. His hand landed on the curve of my knee and gripped it gently. Going from parched to salivating, my throat muscles worked audibly to swallow the pool of saliva in the well of my mouth.
