Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, leaving her slightly lightheaded. Thoughts skittered through her shocked brain.
A handsome stranger had just invited her to dinner. One with the slightest hint of a mysterious accent. One who made sure trash got into the trashcan and who watched musicals because his mother liked them.
Things like this happened to Sage, not her.
Plus, he was a dog lover. From inside the door, she’d watched him offering tastes of his gelato to his dog from a spoon.
She loved Thor, but she wouldn’t share her ice cream with him.
Well, unless he did the sad-eyed paw lift to shake when she hadn’t even asked him to thing.
Then she would probably be offering him tastes from a little spoon too.
Thor was an expert manipulator—or, maybe, she was just soft. It seemed like Mr. Tall, Lean, and Handsome had the same soft spot she did. At least on the inside. On the outside, there didn’t seem to be one soft thing about his body or the strong, calloused fingers that still held her hand.
Ugh! Her palms were a sweaty mess. How completely unattractive.
She tugged her arm back, instantly missing the warmth of his palm. “I don’t usually go to dinner with strangers.”
She didn’t usually go to dinner with anyone other than Sage and Ryker and, occasionally, Davis when he guilted her into it. And Sage would be upset if she went.
No. That was unfair.
Sage would want her to go. Sage wanted her to be happy.
Wanted her to experience all the amazing things she’d missed for so many years when she was sick.
But Sage would want it done on her terms. Her sister would demand a photograph of Aleksei’s driver’s license so she could have Ryker’s PI run a background check, stalk him on social media, insist on knowing the exact time and location of the dinner, and require numerous check-in texts during the event.
It wouldn’t be an impromptu date. It would be a well-orchestrated military operation.
She got it. Sage loved her. Sage wanted her safe.
She was the best sister anyone could ask for.
Sage had sacrificed so much for her, even leaving Juilliard and dancing in a gentlemen’s club to keep them both safe.
But truth be told, sometimes her sister’s love, no matter how deep, sincere, and well-intended, was suffocating.
Rosemary was done with being smothered and confined.
She’d given up so much freedom during her cancer treatments.
She did exactly what the doctors told her.
She spent years barely leaving the house.
She ate what they said to eat, took pills when they said to take them, slept the exact number of hours they demanded, and avoided doing anything fun and exciting for fear of germs. She’d lived a life dictated by others.
But not anymore.
Since starting with Pannetone & Associates, she’d turned over a new leaf. She made her own choices based on what she wanted. She stopped at her favorite coffee shop every day on her way to work for a blueberry muffin and cinnamon latte. Damn the caffeine and damn the carbs.
She went to hot yoga and the rock-climbing gym—previously forbidden places the doctors had labeled “germ factories.” On weekends, she went to the art museum, concerts, and crystal shops.
She purchased fresh vegetables in the Italian market, never worrying about getting overtired or being in a crowd.
She could do it all now without considering the impact on a battered, immuno-compromised body because, thanks to the experimental medicine that had saved her life, she was finally healthy and strong.
She was twenty-seven years old and had barely scratched the surface of what life had to offer.
If an attractive, charming man wanted to take her out for dinner, she would damn well go if she wanted to, regardless of what her sister would think.
“But in your case, I’ll make an exception,” she finally answered.
His smile broadened, showing straight, white teeth. “Great! With the way you hesitated, I thought you were going to turn me down.”
“I considered it, but then I reminded myself I’m supposed to be living life adventurously.”
“Living life adventurously. I like the sound of that. I could use a little adventure.”
There was that touch of an accent again, like Alexander Skarsg?rd in that Legend of Tarzan movie Sage had loved when they were teenagers.
Despite the chill in the air, warmth curled through Rosemary’s stomach. “Maybe we can help each other. But food first. In a public place. I may be embracing adventure, but I’m going to be smart about it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He straightened his back and gave her a sharp salute. Really sharp. Like it was a reflex. “Any suggestions on where we should go?”
She crouched down, her briefcase banging against her leg, and extended her hand slowly so Aleksei’s dog could sniff and lick it.
The dog’s nose was cold, and her tongue was wet and rough on Rosemary’s fingers.
She shifted her hands to pet the thick, soft, brown and white fur at the dog’s neck as she said, “We need to go somewhere pet-friendly. Right, girl?”
Aleksei’s large hand encircled her arm, his grip strong yet gentle, as he helped her stand back up. “Her name’s Jaka. I was so focused on you, I almost forgot she was with me.”
She dropped her gaze to her navy pumps. She’d been so flustered by her encounter with Lily that she’d forgotten to change into her sneakers. The pavement was chilling her feet through the thin soles. Aleksei’s words made that same cold snake into her belly, dimming the glow of their encounter.
“Don’t do that,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked.
“The fake flattery. You don’t need to use it. I already said I would go to dinner with you.”
He moved closer. Dark gray leather sneakers with gray laces and white soles appeared in front of her own shoes.
One firm, rough-skinned finger slid under her chin and eased her head slowly upward.
The sneakers turned into dark wash jeans, then a black zip-front jacket, then a chiseled jawline with a sprinkling of stubble, full lips, a strong straight nose, and finally, intense, gray-blue eyes.
Eyes like the sky on the cusp of a storm.
He lowered his head.
She smelled mint and fresh pine.
Warm breath brushed her ear. “I don’t use fake flattery. It’s not my style.”
And just like that, the cold was gone, replaced by a sharp, intense, poker-hot heat racing up her thighs.
She stepped aside, allowing the evening breeze to cool her burning body. “I know a place we can go. A place we can go to eat. To eat dinner. A place to go eat dinner.”
Aleksei’s smile turned wolfish.
“What else would we eat?”
* * *
The white strands in Rosemary’s arrow-straight hair looked like flames in the red and yellow light of the heat lamps and decorative string lights on the small patio. Something about the way the color reflected the light nipped at the edges of his mind.
“Is something wrong with my hair?” Rosemary’s question came out tight.
He turned his gaze to her face. “No. Sorry I was staring. That was rude. Your hair…it looks bright and radiant in this light. Like a halo. You look like an angel.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
Annoyance flashed through him. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Assume a compliment isn’t sincere. Are you always negative about yourself, or do you doubt me in particular?”
Rosemary’s pretty pink lips gaped open, and she blinked a few times. She looked cute when she was taken off guard.
“What I should say is, it’s completely rational for me to be cautious about trusting a random man who conveniently bumped into me on the street and charmed me into going out to dinner. A smart person might say that’s suspicious behavior, so it’s wise to be wary of compliments.”
His hand froze on his water glass. Had he been that obvious? He was better than that. Or at least he was supposed to be. Had he blown it already?
Gentle fingers grazed the back of his hand. “That’s what I should say, but it isn’t true. I’m sorry. I’m not used to compliments. My sister is usually the one people notice. Attention makes me uncomfortable, so I deflect. But it’s still wrong of me to undercut your words that way.”
He leaned back in his chair.
Who the hell was this woman? Most people weren’t self-aware enough to recognize their behaviors and the reasons behind them.
Even fewer people would openly admit they were wrong—and do it sitting on an outdoor patio in 40-degree weather after shifting away from the heat lamp so someone else’s dog could lay directly under it.
She had even convinced the host to give them a few tablecloths and fashioned a makeshift bed so Jaka didn’t need to lie on the cold ground.
So far, nothing about her was setting off any alarm bells.
He couldn’t see this woman as being involved with the mob and certainly not as Moresco’s girlfriend, so lying to her felt like chewing nails.
On the other hand, she could be really good at keeping secrets.
His instincts were excellent, but they weren’t perfect.
Phillipe had been keeping secrets, and he hadn’t had a fucking clue.
Regardless, if Moresco was having her followed, there was a reason.
She was either on Moresco’s payroll and an excellent actress, or she was an innocent who had inadvertently attracted the attention of the mob.
Either way, he couldn’t risk playing it straight with her.
If she was on Moresco’s side, it was dangerous to ask direct questions.
It might tip her off and blow the whole operation.
If she was one more innocent in Moresco’s oily web, she’d be safer not knowing who he was or what Sal had done.
She might panic or slip up and end up in even more danger.
Keeping up the facade was the best option for both of them—and the surest way to keep her safe.
“So, you don’t get along with your sister?” he asked.
“What?” The word came out as a gasp. “Sage is my best friend.”