Chapter 36 – Vivian
“ J ust a little farther,” Luka insisted.
After how we met, and the events of our first few days together, I couldn’t believe I let him blindfold me and drive me somewhere, and now he was shepherding me through some kind of building. The noises of doors swinging and the absence of the late afternoon sun were my clues that we were indoors.
“Alright, sit.” Luka helped me find the seat. His fingers grazed my bare midriff. Something solid clipped right where my jeans were.
I harrumphed.
“Those eyes closed for me, baby?” he murmured, hot breath fanning against my cheek.
“With how tight you wrapped this bandana across them, yes,” I grumbled.
That earned me a sultry chuckle. “Keep them shut. I’m taking it off.”
Oh, I wanted to disobey! It would be so much more fun.
I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, considering it.
“Don’t,” he warned.
From behind closed lids, my eyes rolled in their sockets. The pressure lessened.
“Hands on the bar.” He guided my palms to a metal bar at my side.
“What is going on?” I demanded.
“You’ll see in a minute. Let me get settled.” With that, he flicked my nose.
The anticipation had me breathing heavily. Two days had passed, and the encounter with Markem was all but forgotten. Lying tangled in the bed sheets that night, I’d considered telling Luka everything. He needed to understand exactly what kind of nightmare he was taking on by challenging the family attorney. But I’d drifted off to sleep to the sound of my mobster’s heavy breathing. When I woke up, Luka was gone as usual and I hadn’t been able to bring myself to discard the last barrier, preferring to keep my secrets a little while longer.
A gust of wind brushed against my face.
The smell of Lake Michigan, a unique yet familiar musk, hit me. Were we over the water? But we hadn’t gone in an elevator, and a helicopter would be far noisier.
“Open your eyes,” Luka whispered.
I looked down—
And screamed.
We were far above the night-bathed city, soaring and twisting. My fingers dug into the metal armrests for dear life.
“Luka!” I croaked, words stuck in the sob in my throat.
We were flying with only a thin, nylon strap around our middle!
Luka’s rich laughter thundered next to me. I would have hit him if I dared loosen my death grip!
“It’s a screen, baby,” he gasped, still chuckling. “It’s all virtual.”
The Flyover Attraction. We were at Navy Pier but completely indoors. That was why the Chicago streets were bathed in night. In the back of my mind, the piece clicked into place. I hadn’t come here before skipping town, but I remembered wanting to go.
The rush of wind caressed my face as if we really were diving into the city. The world below transformed into a blur of lights and shapes. The initial drop felt like my stomach was left behind in midair, a moment of gut-wrenching terror followed by the exhilarating sensation of weightlessness.
“Wow!” I breathed. “That was incredible.”
“Yeah,” Luka agreed. “It was.”
I felt his eyes on me, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the screen.
Buildings stretched like giants beneath us, their windows glinting in the moonlight, creating a tapestry of reflections. The streets were a maze of flickering lights and tiny, ant-like cars, honking and moving in orderly chaos. The city was alive, a breathing, pulsating entity, and every sound seemed to reach us despite the height – the distant wail of sirens, the hum of traffic, and the occasional shout from below.
It was all so real, so lifelike.
And just like that, I realized the fear was gone, replaced with a heady sense of awe.
A strange, nostalgic pulse coursed through me at the trumpeter on the rooftop. Whatever projection we experienced shot us forward at a rapid pace. The sensation of gliding, of sailing through the air, sent a shockwave of adrenaline coursing through my veins. We dove over the river. A spray of water from a barge misted us. Actually misted us!
I laughed. Head thrown back and arms splayed wide, I gave into the thrill of the experience.
Luka hesitated beside me. I knew he was watching me, not the screen. I could feel it. I snatched his fingers in mine, closing the distance.
Just like when we met, we embraced the forces of nature, hand in hand.
I whooped as we coursed over the river—the green river. Celtic music tinkled from along the bank.
“I can’t wait to celebrate St. Patrick’s with you,” I called out, voice breathless with excitement.
“I can’t wait to celebrate everything with you.”
Turning away from the screen, I reached over and cupped his face with my opposite hand. “Thank you for kidnapping me, Luka Vlasov.”
The smile that curved his lips was so unlike the others. There was no mischief, no infectious mirth. It was…serene.
“Watch the screen. You’re missing it.” He tipped his head to the side, indicating the grand architecture of Chicago.
“You too, mister.”
The city’s rooftops became more distinct, shadowed nooks and crannies giving way to bustling terraces and gardens. Neon signs flashed in vivid colors, painting the night with their electric glow. I could see people down below, oblivious to our presence, going about their lives like tiny, animated figures in a grand, illuminated diorama.
At the Chicago Board of Trade building, we climbed to the top, pivoted around the statue of Ceres, and then—
I screamed.
The wind gusted in my face as we raced for the pavement. The virtual reality tricked my brain into thinking we actually were falling. The sensation was indescribable—an exhilarating, liberating feeling as if I was embracing the descent.
At the last second, we righted. My fingers gripped Luka’s in an unrelenting hold. As we raced after a street chase, the scent of smoke from the burnt rubber rounded out the experience.
Sadly, the kaleidoscope of sensation came to an end. Pure, unadulterated joy settled deep inside.
“I was worried this would trigger a migraine,” Luka admitted. The violet glow of the empty screen painted the room in a wonderland of anticipation. “And if it does, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll hold you, baby,” I breathed, repeating the words back to him.
The dance of emotions in my chest left me breathless. But it had more to do with the close proximity of this man, rather than the wild, virtual ride.
The corner of his mouth quirked. “We can do it again.”
“Really!” I sat up straighter.
This time his smile split his face. “George! Again, please.” To me, Luka added, “We have the whole place to ourselves.”
Air left my lungs, and I forgot how to draw it back.
The safety bar in front of us lowered, and the screens turned back on to display Chicago from the sky. Those myriads of lights twinkled just for us, the city our playground, creating a magical, living tapestry that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Luka did this for me. He wasn’t doing it out of guilt like my workaholic parents, or because he wanted something from me like my legal guardian. For the first time in my life, I felt like the center of someone’s world. It was a heady, all-consuming rush stronger than any thrill.
When the virtual display was done, the only thing I could manage to say was: “Again.”
***
My legs were wobbly when we emerged from the building and onto the concrete that made up Navy Pier. The short car ride to one of the numerous lookouts helped bring blood back to the muscles of my lower extremities.
The wind whipped in my face as we stepped out of the vehicle. And that scent.
“How did they capture the essence of the lake?” I threw back my head and spun about, reveling in the familiar damp musk.
Luka went to the trunk of the Nova and pulled out a wicker basket. “Don’t know, but they didn’t leave out any details.”
Leaning against the black and white classic car, I watched my sexy-as-hell husband set up a freaking picnic on the hood. He patted the car beside him. I skipped over and perched with a foot braced on the chrome bumper.
“Won’t we scratch the paint?” I gave him a sassy smirk.
“Nah, besides, what’s the point of having a nice car if we don’t use it?” Luka pulled the focaccia sandwiches out of the picnic basket. They were wrapped in brown paper, but the olive oil stained through. My stomach gurgled at the site.
“Feeling better after falling?” he smirked, giving me a side look.
I tipped my head back to the sun and inhaled. “I’m glad to be back on land.”
Except, instead of being warmed, a shiver rippled through me. I blinked up. The sun was long gone, a storm rapidly blowing in over the lake.
“It’s going to rain,” I muttered.
Luka shrugged. “The weather app says we have fifteen minutes. And I don’t mind a bit of sprinkles.”
The smile wouldn’t stay off my lips. I shook my head and reached for the mini bottles of red wine. These even had corks—the good kind. “So how is it that we got into a closed attraction? You paid someone off?”
Fingers wiggling in the air, Luka grinned. “Don’t you believe in magic?”
If that wasn’t the cheesiest fucking thing.
Still, I laughed.
“I’m serious,” I gasped, popping the second cork. “How is this possible?”
“I bribed a couple of people, but also someone owed me a favor.”
I took a long sip of the wine. “I like this underworld stuff.”
“It’s freeing, isn’t it?” He reached out for the sparkling water.
“No red?” I asked, but the wheels in the back of my mind reeled from his simple quip.
It was freeing.
The games these players played were in the open. They weren’t manipulative or sneaky. They said what they meant—even if it was incredibly violent. I knew what to expect from them. I knew what kind of man Luka was.
And when I was with him, I was a free woman.
I gulped as he took the wine from me.
“—just a little. It’s a sin not to drink wine with Italian food,” Luka was saying. “Besides, it’s not a lot, and technically—”
I placed my finger on his lips, instantly silencing him.
The weight of the moment intensified. My throat worked hard past a swallow. “Thank you for setting me free, Luka.”
“I’m happy it was me that got to do it, darlin.”
Dropping my hand, I waited. The move was his.
But to give him a hint and encouragement, I wet my lips. As I knew it would, the simple motion of tracing a path with my tongue set heat flaring in his eyes.
Luka leaned in, pausing partway. Permission. He was waiting for my permission. Careful where I set my hands on the cool metal of the hood, I closed the distance.
When we were almost touching, I paused. “Kiss me.”
His mouth pressed against mine. It was the barest of kisses, but it sent my pulse racing.
Slowly, savoring the moment, his lips moved against mine. I held back, not wanting to rush this, although there was a horny little part of me that wanted to shove him against the hood and straddle him. That could definitely happen. But later.
Right now, I tasted him. The real him. Our breath mingled, becoming one. One swipe of my tongue and a pure, masculine groan escaped his lips.
I did that. I made the monster make that sound.
My smile met his. The kiss went on and on. An exquisite fire stirred through me. Delight fanned the flames to a euphoric blaze.
He was everything—he was mine .
When we pulled back, moisture dripped on us. Laughing incredulously, I looked up. The sky was a menacing shade of darkness. Heavy clouds threatened to unleash on us, and the late September wind cut across the lake.
“Damn weatherman,” Luka panted. “We had a few minutes.”
“Yeah, wouldn’t I love that job? I would be paid to be wrong.”
Luka grunted in agreement.
Something raw and wonderful sang in my veins. I dropped my gaze back to his lips. “Again.”
This time, I threaded my arms around him, pulling his body into the kiss. His hands settled on my hips, tugging me close. I moved, and one dipped lower to cup my ass. I sighed into his mouth. Luka might be the only man I knew who could smile while he kissed—not that I had a large form of reference. I wriggled closer until his rigid length ground against me, begging for more. The response in my body was electric. But this wasn’t about that right now. This was a completely different type of pleasure. Heavily laced with intimacy, we were treading a strange, new territory in our relationship. Now that we were here, I couldn’t believe it had taken so long to come to this place.
A groan ripped through my chest. At some point along the journey, I fell for this man.
“I like the noises you make,” Luka said against my mouth.
With a flick of my tongue, I moaned. “I should hate you.”
“You should.”
“But I don’t,” I confessed. “I haven’t for a long time now.”
“I know, baby, but it’s so damn good to hear you say it.” And then his mouth silenced me.
I melted into a puddle. It was all I could do to hold onto him. He wouldn’t let me blow away. Those hands, so stained with blood, gripped me close as the rain began a steady patter all around us. The feel of them was comforting, and while it might be twisted logic, no one could tell me it was wrong to feel this way about this mobster.
The picnic forgotten, we kissed like we needed it more than breathing. And in many ways, it felt like we did.