Chapter 16 Shadowed Interruptions #3
Quickly, he built a wall in his mind to keep from losing sight of his mission. His jaw clenched, his teeth threatening to crack at the pressure. He pressed forward, knowing her bedroom was somewhere up here, and that thought alone propelled him onward.
It kept him from hiding, from waiting for her to get home so he could have a taste.
Another breath, another wall built.
A hallway greeted him at the top of the steps along with more picture frames lining it. Four doors waited for him to venture further and open them to reveal whatever was inside.
He conceded.
The farthest one on his left was a guest bedroom so he moved on, uninterested.
Next was another bedroom, only it didn’t have a bed.
Instead it was filled with a couple boxes and unused items. Situated in the corner was a small desk with a monitor.
All of these details built a better image of her in his mind, but one thing stood out.
Hadn’t Levi said Anika had started a leather goods business?
Combing back through both rooms, he saw nothing that spoke of such activities. If his colleague had stated she needed a facility for hydroponics, he wouldn’t have thought twice. But leather? Anika was lying, but why?
Perhaps a game truly was underway, a thread of fate pulling them together. It frustrated the hell out of Mikko. He couldn’t imagine she’d been the one to kill Ivan, but at this point all the signs were pointing to her guilt.
Quickly, he shot off a text to Levi.
Did Anika see you enter the lockbox code at the warehouse? :Mikko
A few seconds later:
Levi: No, why?
Mikko didn’t have time to explain right now, especially over text, so he left him on read. When he got back, they’d reconvene.
Back out in the hallway he tried another door. It was a bathroom filled with white tile up to his chest. The smell of shampoos and lotions hung in the air, but they weren’t hers; this was fresher, a scent fit for visiting guests.
The fourth and final door loomed before him: Anika’s bedroom. A place he hoped would tell him everything he needed to know about her.
The door gave way to him on quiet hinges.
Stepping inside, Mikko immediately noted the rumbled bed sheets and open curtains.
The nearby city’s light pollution and the moon provided him with enough light to see by.
Two windows faced her backyard with another large tree visible from his vantage point.
A couple articles of clothing were on the floor, scattered like she’d hurriedly gotten ready, unable to decide what she wanted to wear.
His boot nudged some pieces out of his way.
A large part of him hoped she noticed the change. He knew he would if the roles were reversed, and his mind flashed back to the night of his penthouse being in disarray.
Even if that was a dark spot on his memory, Mikko didn’t let it distract him from this moment. While he couldn’t put his emotions into words, he was content to stand there relishing in whatever feelings swept through his bloodstream.
He couldn’t stop it from surging in his throat—winding his muscles tight.
He’d been trained to be desensitized to these kinds of nefarious actions. In the past, if he were to get caught, it would end in bloodshed. Now, if he got caught it wouldn’t be about retribution, it’d be about the chase. It would promise something more wicked than murder…
Lust fueled by intrigue.
And hatred.
A dangerous concoction even for a mafia man like him.
Still, a different kind of hunger crawled beneath his skin. Mikko didn’t care if Anika hated him because he knew he could convince her to see him as he was. An equal. Desire and loathing ran hand in hand in his mind; what harm would this little fire between them result in? All he needed was time.
And I’m a patient man. Mostly.
His eyes snagged on her bed again, noting that beneath the rumpled green duvet lay soft, satin bed sheets. They were also wrinkled and slept in and covered in her. His outstretched hand hovered in midair above her bed, chest aching. Mikko had the sudden urge to touch them.
Fuck, I want to do more than touch them.
He yearned to climb in, intertwine himself with her musky scent—the same one currently polluting her whole damn house and preventing him from thinking straight—until they were one, indistinguishable from the other.
His mouth watered at the idea, blood flowing lower as his erection strained behind his zipper.
Before he could stop himself, he fell to his knees at her bedside.
Primal instinct took over, controlling him like a master would his beast. Leaning impossibly close, his nose skimmed the sheets, and even though his balaclava prevented him from touching it freely, he still groaned at the scent she left behind.
He could only describe it as a soft touch of cashmere woods and milky sweet marshmallows.
It was barely there, the hints of tonka bean and deep, silky caramel, but it was enough to make Mikko crave more.
It was intoxicating.
He palmed himself through his jeans, unable to keep his desire under control. His cock ached and throbbed, his year long celibacy suddenly feeling like a fatal mistake. Just when he’d decided to give up on women, one had singled him out and made him question everything.
He wanted to take her on this bed, on the floor, and on every goddamn surface of her house until he was satisfied.
He yearned to have her wetness dripping down his chin and coating his cock as he rutted into her like a madman.
What sounds would she make as he stretched her tight little cunt out—made her pay for all the times she’d taunted him?
Mikko’s fist pressed against his mouth to stifle a groan building in the back of his throat.
He feared he’d never be able to get enough of her; he’d never be satiated.
His days as a CEO would be reduced to worshiping her until she screamed his name and begged for him to stop—begged for him to make her come. Again and again and again…
Fuck, I’m losing it.
Mikko fought to build another wall in his mind, but he was struggling. He struggled with every fiber in his being for control over his body once more. But while she may tempt him, her guilty actions were still at the forefront of his mind. Mostly.
So, he locked away the unruly side he’d let slip out. Tonight was not the night to entertain the thoughts formulating in his head. The ones where he lurked within the shadows before pouncing on her when she returned home and making her plead for mercy he would not give.
Frustration coated his tongue, his mind addled by emotions he’d dealt with in the past, but had no idea how to manage. Anger came easily to him, an almost comforting emotion, but these others…they were more troublesome. Harder to control and to understand.
This was why people always ran away from him; he never did anything half-assed.
Hating the uncertainty lining his gut, he craved the fresh air that came with riding his motorcycle—the distraction of the wind and speed ripping at him as he tore down the ribboned highways.
It’s the only way to escape her.
Pale numbers on the clock on her nightstand ticked away as he knelt there, torn.
It continued to count, moving forward in time, all too willing to leave him behind.
He had approximately thirty minutes before she was to return home and again, he fought against the idea of letting her find him and interrogating her for answers he desperately needed.
Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts before regretfully standing. The absence of her scent left a void in his chest, something like regret twinging there.
His father would be disgusted at the man he’d become.
A quick glance in the drawers of her nightstands revealed nothing earth shattering. There was hand cream, lip balm, and medicine—the first two items he pocketed as trophies. Until he went to close the last drawer.
There, something unusual caught his attention. Shoved underneath a stack of gardening magazines, he spotted something pink. He’d almost missed it, but his eyes honed in on her vibrator.
Well, well, well, he thought deviously, lips twitching at the image playfully crossing his mind.
He yearned to take off his glove and touch it with his bare hand. The idea of rolling up his mask so he could lick the silicone replayed in his mind over and over again.
Did it taste like her, even if she cleaned it? What did she look like when she was up here all alone and needy, using it to get off? Who did she think of when she came undone?
The last question made his teeth grit together in jealousy.
He wanted her to think of him. It was unreasonable; he knew this.
His hold over her was damn near inconsequential—for now—but his mind still wanted it.
No one else deserved her attention; no one else would sate the hunger he sensed within her like he could.
Abruptly, he slammed the drawer shut.
If he didn’t stop now, there would be no going back. And he was wasting precious seconds daydreaming when he should be searching through her things for clues about Ivan…one of his own dead employees.
With a sigh, he stood and assessed the rest of her room.
A dresser with jewelry and perfume bottles lined on the top were glinting in the moonlight.
Peering closer, he memorized the names and fragrance notes.
Since she’d been kind enough to send him tequila, maybe he could send her a gift of his own, one that let her know he’d been here.
A vintage chair sat in the corner of her room with a quilted blanket draped over the back and armrest. Other than a few stray pieces of clothing and her unmade bed, Anika’s room was well organized. Mikko didn’t expect anything less. The poise she held herself with spoke to that.
Business clothes lined her closet, all the colors dark and moody. Casual clothes were folded in the drawers of her dresser along with underwear and socks. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t clutched onto a pair of underwear for a solid two minutes, wrestling with himself on if he should take them.
In the end, he didn’t.
Maybe I can take something else…
A vision of her standing where he was, trying on different clothes, intruded his thoughts.
Her onyx hair cascading over her shoulders, trickling down her back and tickling against her skin, was vivid in his mind.
He could almost feel her, the sensation of her disarming honeyed eyes on him, unfreezing the ever-present chill in his heart.
A shiver coursed down his spine at the thought.
Crossing the room, Mikko opened the final door. It led to a small ensuite bathroom which tempted him to step in farther. He did.
A window provided him with enough light to see by, her toiletries and cosmetics scattered over every flat surface in the room. Mikko smiled to himself. She represented a piece of him he wished he could have. Spontaneity. Freedom.
His own city penthouse was spotless, a cleaning company coming every week even though it was hardly dirty when they did come. Everything had its place, and he enjoyed the cleanliness of it. The control.
Dark gray towels hung on hooks and a botanical themed shower curtain caught his attention.
Of course it’s plant related.
While he may not be getting any additional leads on Ivan, he was learning that Anika, plants, and the color green all went hand in hand.
Small wins, he thought, closing her bathroom and bedroom door behind him as he slipped out.
While he didn’t want this night to end and the game to ebb, Mikko knew there were other responsibilities piling up in his computer’s inbox.
Tonight might not have shown him explicitly how Ivan and Anika were connected, but it showed Mikko how invincible he was.
Time would force the truth to come out, and he’d be waiting.
Until then…
His restless fingers couldn’t help themselves. He’d slipped one of her soft scarfs from a coat hook in her foyer on his way out.
An excuse to come back, he thought as he left the spare key where he found it and disappeared into the night.