Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
LUKA
I give her a napkin, and she blots the dress, blinking back the tears.
“It’s just getting worse.”
“We’ll get you another dress,” I say.
“It’s one-of-a-kind,” she blurts out. “I love it, and you can’t fix it. Nobody can fix this.”
She’s going to cry. Women’s tears don’t generally affect me, but for whatever reason, I can’t tolerate Edie crying. I will not have it.
“I got it,” I say.
“How?”
I turn her by her shoulders and point her at the restrooms. “You’re going to go in the ladies’ room and take off the dress and wait for me.”
“You’re going to make me wait naked in a bathroom for you?”
“Yup.”
She blinks at me.
I wait. “Is that a no?”
She grabs her purse and heads off.
I make a few phone calls. A tray arrives with a large silver bowl, a kettle, and a small flask. I bring it to the ladies’ room and knock.
She cracks the door.
“Let me in.”
She steps back, clad in a simple white underwear set. It’s just like that dress, sexy with a little bit of a good-girl edge--without even trying.
I like it, but I’m not here to fuck her. Not yet.
“Let’s have the dress.” I set the tray down on the hutch. The ladies’ room here is nice enough to have actual furniture in it.
She hands it over. I stretch the fabric over the silver bowl. “Hold it like this, stretched.”
“What are we doing?”
“Do as I say.”
She stretches the fabric over the bowl. I take the kettle and begin to pour a stream of boiling water over the delicate, stained fabric.
“Shouldn’t you use cold?”
“Cold’s for amateurs.” I continue on, pouring in a pattern, back and forth, back and forth, working my way down the stain, which begins to disappear.
“What the hell,” she says, momentarily dropping the blank act.
She moves the dress to stretch a different part over the bowl, and I erase that part, too.
“How does a guy like you know a trick like this?”
“We all know this trick, Edie.”
“A lot of wine spills?”
I keep up my precise operation until it’s gone.
She raises her gaze to mine. “Why are you doing this for me?”
“Hold it up for me to see.”
She holds it up for me, trembling. “Wow. Thank you.”
There’s a knock at the door.
“Yeah?”
A woman’s voice. “Polkov.”
I hand the wet dress out, exchanging it for the garment bag labeled Polkov’s Dry Cleaning .
“She’ll finish it up for you. This is something in your size. No guarantees on style.”
“What kind of dry cleaner is open in the middle of the night? Did they open special just for?—”
“I care for what’s mine,” I say.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s not about kindness.”
She pulls off the plastic bag. The dress is simple. Pale blue. Her size, best I could guess. And I asked for a soft color. I suddenly don’t like her in the loud colors.
“This is a really nice dress. Wow. Thank you—that was so kind.”
“Kind? We’re in a transaction, not a relationship. Your ass is mine to use as I please, and you crying doesn’t do it for me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right; making sure my dress wasn’t ruined isn’t kind. You don’t have a good bone in your body.”
“That’s right.”
“You learn that wine trick in military school?”
I slide my finger over her cheek, and she comes alive with a shiver. Her whole body is probably goosebumps. “Somebody’s been googling me.”
“A girl likes to know who she’s dealing with.”
I study her face. A different man might think she’s here gathering information. Maybe she is gathering information. It doesn’t matter. I’ll be gone in a few days.
“It wasn’t a military school, and the trick isn’t for wine.”
And there it is—that edge of judgment as she processes that bit of information and realizes it’s for blood. “Oh.”
“Tell me again what you think of criminals.”
“We’re not doing that.”
“Come on,” I say, pushing off her panties.
“You hate me, don’t you? I’m an awful man who takes whatever he wants without paying.
A beast who hurts the good people of the world just because he can.
And now you belong to me, and I’m gonna make you come again, and I’m gonna make you crave me, and there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. ”