Chapter 26
ZINAIDA
Charlie winds down the window as Luke comes down the stairs.
“Blimey, McTasty. I leave her with you for one day, and you break her?”
Luke looks momentarily confused.
Ankle, I mouth to him from the back seat. I’m still faking the injury.
He bites down on his grin and gives Charlie a mock glare. “Call me McTasty one more time, and I’ll put you in the Viewing Gallery and let Paddy loose on you while the whole security team watches.”
Charlie gives a bark of laughter as he opens the rear door. “You know how to turn a girl on.”
“I do my best.” He stands in the door, his fingers, hidden from sight, trailing up my thigh.
“Uh,” I gasp, shooting him a death look.
“I’m going to ride in the back,” he tells Charlie, grinning at me, unrepentant, as he lowers himself into the limo.
“Take us back to the Lowndes Square apartment. It’s been a long day or two, so neither of us will be going into the Quartier tonight.
We need to go through a few things, and Zin needs to rest that foot. ”
“Alrighty, then.” Giving the Cockney equivalent of copy that, Charlie inclines her head. If she’s remotely suspicious, she does a good job of hiding it.
“Keep your feet to yourself,” Luke murmurs from the seat opposite me. “They’re a legitimate risk to my workplace safety.”
A gurgle of laughter escapes me, a sound I’m not sure I’ve ever heard myself make. Luke’s eyes settle on me, his slow smile making my stomach turn over. “I do actually have some business I need to go through with you.”
“Business?” I watch him with a twinge of unease. “What’s so urgent it can’t wait?”
“Nothing that won’t keep until we’re home.”
Home. The way he says it gives me an odd sensation I’m not ready to think through just yet.
Feeling color heat my face, not to mention every other part of me, I turn toward the window.
“You know,” he says casually, “your fingers just gave you away.” He nods at my hand. “Your tell,” he says, his eyes roaming my body with a slow, languorous anticipation that has me semibreathless. “The way your fingers just fanned on your leg. Did I say something to disturb your peace, Zinaida?”
Oh, and now you’re using my full name, in that low, raspy voice that makes me want to climb you like a fucking jungle gym right here in the back seat?
I glare at him, but he doesn’t even attempt to hide his amusement as we travel the cozy lights of London’s winter. Charlie pulls into the basement garage and goes to help us with the groceries, but Luke waves her away. “I’ve got it from here, cheers.”
She looks rather surprised. Her eyes shift between Luke and me, narrowing slightly. We both smile pleasantly back at her, poker faces intact.
Wisely, she chooses not to comment. “Tomorrow, then,” she says, though by the quirk at the corner of her mouth, I’m guessing the gossip mill will be rife at the Quartier tonight.
I nod at her with as much dignity as I can muster. “Thanks, Charlie.”
We walk into the elevator and wait until the doors close, then I finally straighten up, groaning. “Do you know, I think it’s actually more painful pretending to have an injury than actually having one.”
Luke’s arm snakes around my back, and he pulls me close, kissing the top of my head. “If that means I have to keep you in bed for the duration of the recovery, then I’m good with it.”
For a moment I melt against him, and it feels so fucking good I never want the moment to end.
Then the elevator dings, and the doors open onto my apartment. My heart lurches uncomfortably.
I have no idea how to play this.
I step inside, and I’m suddenly incredibly self-conscious.
This isn’t Luke being here for a security assessment or to check for an intruder. He’s inside my home, the one place I don’t share with anyone, the only place that is truly me. I’ve never entertained a man in this apartment, let alone had one in my bed here.
“So.” I cast him a look over my shoulder, doing my best to conceal my nerves behind seduction. “Is it business first or . . . ?”
“Stop trying to corrupt me.” Luke gives me a businesslike pat on the ass, which unfortunately has the opposite effect on my libido than he probably intends.
I pause, trying not to give away the fact that I definitely wouldn’t argue if he just pushed me up against the wall right now.
From the way his eyes darken, he’s definitely contemplating it.
Then he sets his mouth in a resolute line and turns me firmly back toward the doors.
“Nope,” he says cheerfully, steering me toward the kitchen.
“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and you, Miss Melikov, definitely require high-stamina levels. ”
I find myself laughing again.
It’s dangerous, the way he makes me laugh. Every time is like a crack in the protective layer I’ve spent years carefully constructing. Now he’s in my home, and I’m about to cook for him. The casual intimacy of the whole thing is oddly terrifying.
I turn toward the bedroom, suddenly desperate for a moment alone. “I need to change. Make yourself at home.”
“I’ll put the groceries away.” I can sense Luke’s amusement, but to my relief, he doesn’t follow me.
I shower, needing the reassurance of my own surroundings and scent.
What the fuck are you doing, Zin?
I prop my arms against the shower wall, taking deep breaths to calm my suddenly hammering heart.
It’s just a meal. Some business. And then it’s just sex.
Just sex?
Never has the word just been less appropriate.
There’s nothing just about sex with Luke. Sex with him is an all-consuming, mind-bending descent into some place I’ve never been before, with anyone.
Maybe that’s why having him here feels suddenly overwhelming.
But if I’m honest, everything about the past few days terrifies me.
Sex on the plane with Luke.
Inviting him to Spain just so I could have sex with Luke.
Spending an entire afternoon having intimate girly chats for the first time in my entire life. With Darya Borovsky, of all people.
Even worse, actually enjoying it.
To the point where I am seriously looking forward to seeing her again.
Darya texted me while I was on the way to the office this morning. It was a simple message, just: Go for it, plus a series of fire and eggplant emojis that actually made me laugh out loud.
I get out of the shower, wondering what I’m supposed to wear for both cooking and sex. It’s a novel problem. Darya would no doubt tell me to wear one of my sexy lace-edged confections, but if I’m honest, that just seems really impractical.
In the end I settle on soft gray sweatpants that roll over at the hips and a mint-green loose knit top that has a low V-neck.
I put the lace-edged stuff on beneath it, though.
Because regardless of my internal fears, I’m fairly sure that my clothes are coming off at some point tonight.
“Nice,” Luke calls to me from the kitchen. “Everything about these groceries is making me a happy man. Nice beer choice, by the way. Oh, and Australian red, too.”
Somehow, his familiar, easy tone takes away the tension, and I open the door, smiling.
“Damn, girl. You might actually know how to cook.” He has his back turned to me as he pulls out the ingredients and stacks them in the fridge.
“And you need to get your ass out of my kitchen.”
He turns around, grinning. “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes run over me, lingering on the low V of my top in a way that sends a shiver of delight through me. I choose a mellow acoustic playlist and put it through the speaker.
“I like your apartment,” he says, though he’s not looking at my apartment at all.
“Thanks.” I pop the top of one of the beers I ordered after I saw them at his place and hand it to him, then hand him a bottle of Sangiovese to open. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, though.”
“That was work.” Luke takes the bottle, his eyes never leaving me. “This is most definitely pleasure.”
Oh, God. I’ll never make it through dinner if he keeps looking at me like that.
I start arranging a platter of manchego cheese and jamón pata negra that Darya informed me is Spain’s best when she slipped it into my bag.
I add olives, along with Tuscan bread and an olive-oil-and-balsamic-vinegar dipping bowl on a wooden board, since Luke looks like he might eat the table if I don’t put food in front of him soon.
“So,” I say as he hands me a glass of wine, “what was the business end you needed to discuss?”
“Bogdan Kozlov.” Luke leans against the counter, taking a mouthful of beer from the bottle, then biting into a piece of bread and jamón. “Christ, this is good.” He launches into his conversation with Paddy, filling me in on the Reading warehouse and the sex parties.
“So they’re working together,” I say as he winds up.
“No doubt.” He hands me a piece of bread topped with thin slices of manchego and jamón. “You have to try this.”
I bite into it. “Oh, wow.” The jamon is amazing. And I didn’t realize how hungry I am. I close my eyes briefly, savoring the taste. When I open them, Luke is watching me in that silent, devastating way that always undoes me.
I look hastily back down at my chopping board.
Focus, Zin.
“We’ll hack the system,” he goes on. “There’s still a lot we don’t know. And I’ll send you the file with Paddy’s photographs tomorrow, unless you want to look at them now?”
Now? I’m having trouble focusing on anything past Luke’s tall, broad body leaning up against my kitchen counter. “Tomorrow is good.”
He gives a low laugh.
Oh, fuck.
I turn to the fridge to buy myself some time, retrieving the rib eye steaks and setting them on the counter to warm up. I start peeling sweet potato, cutting it into thin fries.
One song ends, and another one starts.
I start chopping herbs.