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The kid doesn’t wait. He stumbles into a run and heads for the other end of the hall, turning the corner. Asshole punk kid.
Breathing out, I turn the small box I’m holding in one hand. No return address, plain paper. Printed label.
And it’s light.
I hold it up to my ear about to shake it when the elevator dings.
Someone comes up and my skin starts to prick and zing with the low electric bite in the air.
“What are you doing?” Avah asks.
ChapterFour
AVAH
My heart’s thumping triple time now. When I got home, the excitement that bubbled and fizzed went a little flat at the sight of the scratch marks on the building’s door and the fact it was open.
And now . . .
The excitement’s gone, replaced by something darker.
Nicolo stands there in the hall, taking up way more space than any man has a right to, even one as big as him.
He looks at me, those tiger eyes not giving anything away.
“I asked you a question.”
Nicolo frowns, not moving, not coming up to me and there’s a small part of me that just might scream if he does.
Because he’s holding a box.
Like the one left outside my apartment door last night. A box that contained red lace lingerie, a corset with a low-cut balconette-type bra.
I threw it in the trash and washed my hands even though it still had tags on it. Like it was dirty or something.
And now, the front door lock of the building is broken and Nicolo is here, outside my apartment, holding a box like the lingerie one.
I stare at him, heart still hammering for all kinds of reasons some of which I’m not proud of and can’t control, like the little thrill singing inside me. And the fear.
“Got here early and this was outside your door.”
His tone is pleasant, mild, giving nothing away. “And my building’s front door?”
“Avah.” Nicolo steps up, his free hand brushing a few strands of hair from my face, fingers caressing my cheek and his touch is beyond electric.
I’m definitely not proud of the swoop and tumble of my heart that still throbs and hammers inside.
Men and I . . . well, try and date the daughter of a man like my dad and see how far they want to go. Or what they’re willing to risk.
So, I’m not experienced in all the ways, but I thought I knew what it was like, well . . . liking someone.
That stuff in my not-so-distant past? It’s got nothing on what Nicolo can do with a touch or a look.
“That wasn’t me.”
The elevator dings, and he glances down the hall, then at me.
“Open your door and ask me in.”
