Chapter 5 #2
Nick gently took the key out of her hands and opened up the big street door, reaching above her head to open it for her.
Parker started deep breathing to get herself under control, then saw the elevator and indignation wiped away her excitement.
It was an old building with an ancient wheezing elevator, a glass enclosed cabin in a wrought iron cage.
And right now, a huge sign hung from the doorknob.
FUORI SERVIZIO
Out of order
“Oh!” She turned to Nick. “I’m so sorry. The elevator just goes on the blink from time to time. They keep promising to fix it but…” She blew out a breath in frustration.
Nick smiled. “Not a problem. It’s two floors.”
But she knew what that elevator out of order meant. She skirted the stairwell and, yup. There it was. A mess of shopping, at least ten plastic shopping bags. She bent to gather them all up.
“My next-door neighbor is an elderly lady. I told her that if she did heavy shopping and came home to find the elevator out of order to just leave her shopping here and I’d carry it up for her.
It’s happened a couple of times.” She hefted the bags.
“Feels like she did her weekly shopping this evening.”
“Whoa. Let me.” He took all the bags, holding them in one big hand. She protested that she could take half, but he didn’t even answer, just started up the stairs. On her landing, he turned to her. “Now what? Where do we leave these?”
“On this floor, two doors down. Just leave them at the door.”
“No one will steal them?”
“Nah. It’s a nice building and everyone is fond of Mrs. Da Costa. She’s pretty generous with her baked goods. No one will steal her shopping. What?”
Some strange fleeting expression crossed his face as he put down the shopping in a neat pile to the side of Mrs. Da Costa’s door.
Nick straightened. “Well, this is really new to me. I’ve spent the past couple of years in places where if you meet a neighbor in the corridor, the first thing you do is you check his hands for a gun or a knife.
My place in London is really upscale, but I have no idea who my neighbors are.
Wouldn’t recognize them. Certainly no one does anyone any favors. This is nice.”
She smiled, recognizing what he was telling her.
That despite his success, despite his money and power, he led an empty life.
Certainly emptier than hers. Of course, it was hard to live in Naples and not make human connections.
Neapolitans basically forced themselves into your inner circle, though she, too, had empty spots.
“You should live in Naples. Or at least somewhere in Italy.” She’d spoken thoughtlessly and immediately cringed.
He could interpret that in a number of awkward ways.
He could think she was questioning his life choices, choosing to live in terrible places.
Or he could think she was damning his social skills.
Or—and this was the worst—he could think she was encouraging him to move to Italy on the basis of a nice dinner.
Which she wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t. That would be crazy.
“I really should.” Nick smiled down at her. “Be a big improvement.”
She opened her door, wondering what was going to happen. Would he accept a cup of herbal tea and leave? Would they kiss? Would—
And then she didn’t have to wonder at all because he kissed her, and the world stopped.
Neapolitan streets were narrow and twisted.
George had a FIAT 500, small and compact so he could navigate the streets.
Garin had a huge SUV, but he managed just fine.
George had put a tiny chrome tracker on the left back light of the SUV, almost completely invisible.
It was small and didn’t have much of a range, but it would do its job.
George kept himself three streets behind. But soon it was clear where Garin was headed. To Parker’s apartment on the Vomero.
He was driving Parker home. Was he going to spend the night? Parker was incredibly picky. Everyone said so. And from what George could tell she hadn’t had any lovers. She wouldn’t fuck Garin the night she met him, would she?
George didn’t have to start tracking Garin right away.
Garin wasn’t even starting the contract until Monday, so about the only things he could do was study the Consulate’s floor plans and the organization chart.
George was sitting pretty. The floor plans sure as hell weren’t going to help find the leak, which was in Caroline Munro’s phone, and his own bio was almost ridiculously uninformative.
Though George had no reason to track Garin so early, here he was, caught in the trap of his own obsession.
He kept an eye on the GPS app glowing faintly on his phone’s screen as his FIAT made its way through darkened streets, casting arcs of light against the stucco facades, watching cafès shuttering for the night.
And then the teardrop on the screen stopped.
George slowed, coasted, then pulled into a side street, and there it was. Garin’s big SUV. Right in front of Parker Donovan’s building. George knew where she lived. He’d driven by dozens of times, working up the courage to stop by. I was in the area…
But she probably wouldn’t let him in the door.
She let Garin in the door.
George’s throat closed.
Parker had refused him so many times. Almost a caricature of rejection. Cool and dismissive. And here Nikolai Garin shows up at a Consulate reception and she goes out to dinner that same evening and they were probably fucking right now.
George’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, until his knuckles turned white. He sat frozen in his small FIAT until a passing scooter buzzing too close to him snapped him back to reality.
He had done everything right. Everything. He had crafted his new life, piece by piece. Clothes that finally fit him and looked good, a wallet thick enough to prove he wasn’t just a petty functionary. He had risked far more than Garin. Risked prison, risked ruin. Yet—who was rewarded?
Not George. Never George.
Always men like Garin.
Men like Garin walked into a room and simply took what they wanted. Women. Respect. Money. As if the world owed it to them. And though George thought Parker was different, more refined, with better taste than most, she wasn’t.
Garin wasn’t coming back down from her place.
So—lesson learned. Monday morning he’d be back at the Consulate, friendly, helpful George, the pleasant cultural attaché. Smiling and dependable. Invisible.
And willing to sell anything at all to anyone who’d pay him.
Because people could underestimate him—but he was privy to secrets. He sold power. And nothing would stand in his way.
My God, the taste of Parker was heady. Nick wanted to take it slow, gentle kisses graduating to open mouth kisses but the instant that door closed behind them it was like being in a raging river, unable to stop.
He held her head still for his kiss. Her hair was warm, flowing over his fingers, and it was a little shock. Her hair was midnight black, you almost expected it to be cool, but it was warm, like her.
He only touched her head, with his hands and his mouth. He wasn’t leaning against her, because he was fully aroused and had no idea if she was ready for that.
As far as he was concerned, he was ready—right now—to drop to the floor, rip her clothes off and unzip himself just enough to slam into her.
The thought—the image—excited him and appalled him.
You don’t woo a woman like Parker by being a caveman.
Which was a pity because he felt like a caveman.
He was more aroused than he’d ever been with any other woman, but this was a woman he didn’t want to scare, in any way.
When Parker’s tongue stroked his, all the blood in his body pooled in his dick and he nearly came. Not good. Not good at all, because Parker deserved a partner who was in control of himself. Not some sex-crazed maniac.
Control. Fuck. He was nothing but control. He could go for two days without water, a week without food, days without sleep. As a soldier, he was unstoppable, which wasn’t possible without control.
But now control was slipping from his fingers.
His fingers were holding her head too hard. He slapped his hands on the wall beside her head and kissed her more deeply, fingers digging into the wall.
Parker licked inside his mouth, and he huffed out a breath. Lifted his head.
Oh God. How could she be even more beautiful? Cheeks a deep rose, eyes blazing blue, mouth slightly swollen and dark pink.
He leaned his forehead against hers.
“I wanted to do that from the first instant I set eyes on you.”
“What? Kiss me?”
“Mhm.” More than kiss her.
“I actually didn’t think of kissing you, but I did think you were not obnoxious. Which is high praise for me.”
“I’ll bet you get a lot of come-ons.”
She sighed. “And suggestive comments and sometimes pinches and copping feels.”
Nick made a sound deep in his throat at the thought of someone pinching Parker.
She smiled. “Was that a growl?”
“Yeah. I hate the thought of that. Of someone making you uncomfortable. Maybe hurting you.”
She laid a hand alongside his face. “Well you can rest assured that you have always behaved like a perfect gentleman. I like that.”
Then and there Nick made a vow to himself to be a gentleman. No matter what it cost him.
She smiled up at him. “I’ll confess as we were driving across town, I was trying to think of a way to get you to come up with me.”
Nick felt his eyes widen. “Think of a way?”
She nodded, watching him.
“Ahm…it wasn’t hard. You offered me an herbal tea. You could have offered me cyanide, a bullet, barbed wire to sit on. I’d have come up. Easy.”
She smiled. He pulled his hand away from the wall and ran the back of his fingers down her face. She was so fucking beautiful. Why was she so beautiful? Almost an extravagance. Her skin was so soft, her mouth so lush. Uptilted eyes so gemlike while also being intelligent.