Chapter 3
Three
This is new, Nikos thought with wry amusement.
He’d just been dismissed. Not politely. Not playfully. Flat-out rejected.
Kiki Reese had slammed the door so fast, it had practically hit his nose.
Who did that to him?
More importantly—why the hell did it bother him this much?
Nikos leaned back against the wall outside apartment 4B with his arms crossed.
He was barely listening to Harvey as he tried to smooth things over.
Overhead, a single light buzzed faintly, casting a sickly yellow hue that flickered, as if even the light questioned why Nikos was still standing there.
The answer, he realized with a bemused smile, wasn’t anything that Harvey was saying. It wasn’t even his original promise to go on a date with Kiki that was keeping him here. Kiki Reese was just as strange as Jim and Harvey had warned him—though somehow that didn’t strike him as a bad thing.
It was simply that he never could resist a challenge—and Kiki Reese might as well have just thrown a gauntlet at his feet.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other options available if he were interested.
He knew at least a dozen women who would fall over themselves to wipe the sting of this humiliation away.
The Contessa twins were probably already waiting at The Rocks, their long legs and fake laughs ready to distract him.
He was surprised when a shudder of distaste swept through him at the thought.
God help him if whatever had gotten into Alexandros and Theo was contagious.
He grimaced at the thought of his two friends’ cynical views of life and boredom with the variety of women that had flowed through their lives before they met the intriguing women who were now their wives.
With a stab of dismay, he realized it had been months since he’d last been with a woman. While he had pandered to the Contessa twins because they were good for business, he just wasn’t physically attracted—at least not anymore.
Which is why, he thought with dismay, I’m standing in a dingy corridor, fascinated by a rude sprite, and mentally gearing up like a man on a mission.
“She’s not usually this bad,” Harvey murmured, his voice a cross between exasperation and fondness as he knocked on the door. “Kiki, please just open the door. Let him say hello.”
A few moments passed in silence—and then the door jerked open. Nikos straightened, surprised that she actually answered.
Kiki pursed her lips and glared at Nikos—which, confusingly, lit him up inside. Reeling, he barely paid any attention when she turned and spoke only to Harvey.
“I said I’d do it, and I will, but he shouldn’t have come here,” she ground out, her eyes flashing with warning. Amusingly, her cat glared fiercely as well and gave a short, stern meow that emphasized Kiki’s point.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m glad you’re still…” Harvey’s voice died and he sighed before he shook his head at Kiki and cast another apologetic look at Nikos. “I’ll let Jim know. He’ll be thrilled. We’re watching a movie later—you’re welcome to join us.”
“Not tonight. I have things I need to take care of,” Kiki said, stroking the calico cat in her arms who was watching the two men warily.
“Okay. Maybe we’ll just watch a couple of episodes of that show Jim likes and save the movie for another time. See you later, love,” Harvey said.
Nikos listened to their exchange, but his mind was elsewhere, namely on trying to decipher what in the hell was going on inside him. From the second Kiki Reese had opened the door and he got his first proper look at her, it was like everything inside him had short-circuited.
Memories of Theo’s reaction to Rose and Alexandros’s description of what he had felt when he first saw Dani echoed like a haunting melody from a horror story through his mind. Theo had said it felt like a lightning bolt had struck him in the chest.
He guessed he should be thankful Kiki hadn’t greeted him the way Dani had greeted Alexandros—with a punch to the groin.
He shook his head and blinked as if he were coming out of a fog. Kiki hadn’t even looked at him earlier, but now—now that she had—something had shifted inside him. Something he didn’t like. There was a low, tightening sensation in his chest. His gut. And lower.
His physical reaction to her was so powerful, he almost reached down to make sure she couldn’t see the bulge in his dress slacks. She shot him an annoyed expression, and he gave her a crooked smile.
He studied her while they waited for Harvey to disappear back into his apartment across the hall and close the door.
She was… petite. Compact. Her curves were swallowed beneath a sloppy white hoodie with a threadbare hem and black jeans that had clearly seen better days.
Her wild curls framed a face that could’ve stopped traffic in Midtown: heart-shaped, stubborn, and flushed with indignation.
Her eyes met his with a spark that nearly scorched the air between them.
What amused him the most was the way she held the fluffy, long-haired calico cat to her chest like it was both shield and weapon. The look in the cat’s eyes promised it was fearsome enough to be both.
She looked like a street sprite who’d wandered out of a forgotten dream and was determined to curse him.
And God help me, a curse might be worth it if she touched me!
The thought made him want to laugh, but an unfamiliar weight in his chest stifled the sound.
He acted on instinct when she started to close the door, reaching out and bracing his palm flat against the doorframe above her head.
The movement was firm but not aggressive.
Still, she flinched and retreated several feet, her eyes sharpening with wariness as she clutched her cat—who was hissing at him in warning.
His brow furrowed in concern and a surprisingly intense surge of protectiveness.
Holding still, he moved his gaze away from hers and hoped the gesture would make him seem less threatening.
The room behind her was cozy, cluttered, and undeniably hers.
It held a riot of colors in mismatched rugs and throw pillows, a floral-print couch that looked like it belonged to a grandmother, and bookshelves spilling over with battered paperbacks and dried herbs.
It was the opposite of his sterile, masculine penthouse—warm, chaotic, and alive.
His gaze dropped back to her, and a jolt ran through him.
What the hell is happening to me?
He tried to breathe, but the air felt too thick, like he was drowning in it. Her presence stirred something primal in him—heat, hunger, and a sharp edge of confusion.
She wasn’t the type he usually went for. She wasn’t polished or flirtatious. She didn’t play games. She didn’t act like the women he knew who were just trying to catch a rich husband.
She hadn’t even smiled at him, for Christ’s sake!
And still… he was unraveling.
When their eyes locked again, he felt it hit like a gut punch—an awareness so visceral, it almost scared him.
She was shaking her head and eyeing him with a wary expression.
He swallowed hard, his fingers flexing against the doorframe as he struggled to regain control over a sudden, primal need to step fully inside and close the distance between them.
What the hell?
He didn’t do spontaneous. He didn’t do emotional. But his body wasn’t listening.
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
Soft. Bare. Unpainted.
He wanted to kiss her. Hell, he wanted a hell of a lot more than that. He wanted to taste her. Tangle his hands in her hair. Press her back against the wall and—
Her quiet voice cut through the haze.
“No.”
The word was barely above a whisper, but it pulled him from the precipice.
“No… what?” he asked, his voice rough.
Her arms tightened around the cat. “No… to whatever you’re thinking.”
“I wasn’t—” He caught himself.
Liar.
He was puzzled by the conflicting emotions coursing through him. He was used to leggy brunettes and elegant blondes. Women who laughed at his jokes and leaned in close with seductive perfume and sensual promises guaranteed to ignite his lust.
He wasn’t used to whatever the hell this was—a defiant wisp of a woman who treated him like he was an inconvenience instead of one of the wealthiest bachelors on the planet, a prize for any woman who could catch him—which he had been very careful to avoid.
Until now.
He swallowed at the thought.
She released a breath, and he realized they were still staring at each other—her with a wary look, and him trying to get his lust under control. Warmth surged upward, coloring his cheeks when she raised an eyebrow as if she knew exactly what he had been thinking.
“I said I’d fulfill my promise,” she said in a low voice. “One date. Tomorrow. Noon to four. I’ll meet you at the café around the corner from The Rocks. Don’t be late, because I won’t wait.”
And just like that, she stepped forward to close the door in his face again.
He moved before he thought, his palm stopping the door an inch from his face.
She froze, startled.
The cat let out a grumble of protest.
For a moment, Nikos did nothing but look.
“I need to eat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nikos clenched his jaw, forcing himself to nod. “Café. Noon.”
She nodded.
He turned away, taking two steps before instinct made him pause. He glanced back over his shoulder—and saw her still watching him, not moving. Still clutching that ridiculous cat. Still not smiling.
And still the most mesmerizing woman he’d ever seen.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned, closed the distance between them, and—ignoring every rule of logic—kissed her.
It was fast. A press of lips that burned hotter than anything he’d felt in years. He wasn’t even sure he’d meant to do it until it was over and she was staring at him, eyes wide, her hand trembling as she lifted it to her mouth.
His body vibrated. Pulse hammered. Blood roared. That one kiss hit him like a bomb detonating in his chest.
“Good night,” he rasped, already stepping back.
He shut the door himself and rested his forehead against it, exhaling hard.
What the hell was that? he wondered, shaken.
He turned away before he did something even more reckless—like knock again.
It was only then that he noticed the cat scratch that had made it through his dress shirt to graze his skin. He laughed in disbelief. He hadn’t even felt it.
As he descended the four flights of stairs in record time, he swore he could still feel the ghost of her lips on his—soft, warm, hesitant.
That wasn’t a kiss. Not really, he thought with growing aggravation.
But now? He felt… off balance. Unsettled.
“What the hell were you thinking, Nikos? She’s covered in warning signs,” he muttered.
And what had he done with those warnings blaring like a five-alarm fire? He had kissed her, that’s what he had done!
No warning. No suave line. Just pure, unfiltered instinct.
She had looked at him like he’d sucker-punched her. Like he’d peeled back some layer she hadn’t wanted anyone to see. And maybe he had—because he sure as hell hadn’t meant to reveal anything either.
He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the strange fog clinging to him.
He’d dated models, actresses, even royalty for God’s sake.
Women who wore diamonds like a second skin and knew how to work a room better than any politician.
And yet… this woman, this petite hermit in a hoodie holding a suspicious furball like it was her bodyguard, had gutted him with a single look, made him break his own rules—and she felt like gravity.
Like something his world had been missing until it locked into place.
The thought had him slowing when he reached the foyer of the converted brownstone.
“I’m fucked,” he breathed out with a shake of his head, pushing open the door and stepping out.
He descended the steep steps and pulled out his phone with more force than necessary, jabbing at the contact as his driver opened the back door for him. He slid onto the rich leather, the call already ringing before the door shut.
“Good evening, sir,” Andri greeted.
“I want a full dossier on Kiki Reese. Everything. Childhood, medical history, the whole damn file. There’s more to her than the half-assed paragraph I was given,” Nikos bit out, staring blindly out the window as his driver pulled away.
“Yes, sir. You seem… troubled,” Andri said slowly. “Is there anything I should be concerned about?”
“I don’t know. There’s something about her—something…” He blew out a shaky breath. “Just find out everything you can.”
He disconnected the call, his mind racing. It wasn’t until they were a block from the club that he realized he hadn’t told his driver that he had changed his mind.
“Arnold, skip the club,” he said quietly.
“Very good, sir. Where would you like me to take you?” Arnold replied.
Nikos thought for a moment before he sighed. “The penthouse,” he instructed.
“Yes, sir.”
He tapped his phone against his leg before he lifted it again, tapped a contact in his favorites, and waited. It rang three times before it went to voicemail. He sighed and debated leaving a message before deciding this was too important.
“Hey, Markos, I know you’re in the city. I need to speak with you about something. Can you come by the penthouse when you get a chance?” he requested before he disconnected the call and lowered his phone.
Within seconds, a ping announced an incoming message. He smiled when he read it. He should have known.
Already here. Was in the shower.
He turned his phone over and stared out at the bustling streets, but his mind wasn’t on the colorful lights or the pedestrians. No—his mind was locked on the heart-shaped face of the woman who’d woken something inside him.
“Who are you, Kiki Reese… and what the hell are you running from?”
He knew she had to be hiding something because there was no way a woman like her lived in the shadows for no reason.