10. The Truth about Halston #3
“Well, you couldn’t shoot them,” she said. “And I wasn’t about to let them take me.”
He stilled. “I would never let that happen.”
“You say that now, but if they’d stabbed you, and I couldn’t defend myself, they might have taken me, raped me, maybe killed me and dumped my body.”
“You’re dark, like me.” He swept his gaze over her, but she remained stone-faced.
“I am dark,” she whispered. “But I didn’t choose the darkness, it chose me.”
“It chose me too,” he replied.
She collected his hands, threaded her soft fingers through his. “Maybe you’re not a nobody,” she whispered.
“No, I don’t think I am,” he murmured as he pulled her close and kissed her.
“What are we going to do about that?” she murmured.
“Push each other to our limits,” he replied.
HALSTON
Halston loved holding Gabriel’s hand. She could only describe it as “feeling right”.
Whatever that means.
Even with generators powering the massive building, the spacious hotel lobby was bathed in shadows. The giant Christmas tree sat dark, the chandeliers too. The front desk was half-juiced, the hallways the same.
But it was eleven thirty on New Year’s Eve and the boutique hotel was packed with partygoers that spilled from the Bohemian lounge into the two-story lobby.
She made her way toward the elevator bank.
“The lounge is open,” he said.
“I have booze in my room.”
He directed her out of the flow of guests moving through the lobby. “I don’t want a drink.”
While peering into her eyes, he ran the back of his finger down her cheek. He looked sincere, but he was ten minutes from getting laid. Rather than overanalyze the situation… or him… she waited.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
Always on the lookout, she glanced around.
“Why do we do that?” he murmured. “Who do we expect to see?”
“Anyone from the embassy,” she whispered.
“Would they even recognize you?”
She shrugged.
“I won’t put you at risk.”
Again, he looked sincere.
“I’ll dance with you,” she said.
Into the Bohemian lounge they went, with the purple sofas, orange chairs, and wall of vinyl records.
He led her onto the crowded dance floor.
The beat was fast, but he pulled her into his arms, held her snug against him.
They were pressed together, no air between them. It was good, but not good enough.
She would wait. Though her heart beat wildly in her chest, she would savor this moment. With this man.
A violent criminal worth millions who argued with his brothers, was at war with the Russian mafia, and ran his empire like the alpha boss that he was.
He was charismatic and confident. He was ruthless and fearless.
Was he the person she hadn’t been searching for, but that destiny had placed in her path?
In this moment, this precious moment, he was hers.
Nothing more, nothing less. Not forever, not for all eternity. Just for now.
She fastened her arms around his neck, raked her fingers through his wavy hair and, when she peered into his eyes, she felt the weight of the world lift. Allowing herself to float on a fluffy white cloud, she got lost in his dark, mysterious eyes, now black as midnight.
“You smell good,” he whispered before kissing the top of her head.
She was afraid of getting close to him, terrified of caring.
She’d trained herself to accept the end of assignments and the relationships she’d built while working them. Those gigs were artificial, built on a pillar of lies. Nothing more than dust in the wind.
When it was time for her to leave, she’d learned to bury the past. As she moved through life, she focused on living in the moment.
Though her job kept her busy, loneliness crept in.
That was the hardest thing about her life…
until now. She could feel the power and the fury and the darkness of Gabriel Santini slithering into her consciousness, her heart… maybe even her soul.
If I dream about you, I’m screwed.
“Dreaming is the one place where we are truly free,” he said.
“How did you hear that?”
“I’m right here,” he replied. “How could I miss it?”
“I didn’t say it out loud.”
“You did,” he replied.
Was she dropping her guard around him? She needed to stay on point. One misstep and that was it. Gabriel Santini had been an assignment from Yuri Bulgrov. She’d been in his Milan villa, searching his possessions for a thumb drive.
If he knew…
A shiver skirted through her and she trembled.
The song ended, a slow one began. “One more,” he whispered. “I like this, with you. We seem normal.”
“Normal would bore us.”
He smiled. Her heart skipped a beat. He was sick handsome. Too handsome really.
As they moved as one on the dance floor, she pressed closer, appreciating his hard body, his musky scent, the possessive way he held her in his arms. Her gaze drifted to the couples dancing all around them. What secrets did they keep? What information did they withhold from each other?
She saw a middle-aged couple dancing nearby and thought of her mom and dad. She missed them. That ache in her heart never went away. Was she losing precious time with them for the sake of her career?
He peered down at her.
“Did I say something else out loud?” she whispered.
“No, but your back tensed.” He caressed it.
And that’s when she realized she was wearing a baggy sweatshirt.
“I look terrible.”
“Are you saying that for you… or for me?”
She arched an eyebrow. He had a point. If he was a nobody, it shouldn’t matter.
“You’re a beautiful, brave, smart, sexy woman—”
“No lines—”
“You know it’s the truth,” he said. “You don’t need to hear that from me.”
“Women always need to hear that from their man.”
“Am I your man?”
“This is just a little New Year’s Eve fun.”
“Then, it shouldn’t matter how you look,” he replied.
But it did. She was with a Santini and she looked ridiculous.
The music ended.
She needed to get out of the lounge. “Thank you for the dances.”
“è stato un piacere.” It was my pleasure.
At quarter to twelve, they headed toward the elevator bank. Once there, she opened the tote bag, still strapped to his shoulder, pulled out the Penthouse elevator card.
A group of women, led by a tall redhead, strode over, the clickety-clack of their heels echoing in the semi-lit lobby.
“I thought that was you,” said the redhead. “Gabriel Santini, you ghosted on me, you dog you.” She shot him a smile, her oversized teeth made bigger by her bright-white veneers.
“Ciao,” he said. “I’ve been in Italy.”
“Well, you’re back,” she continued. “These are my friends. They can vouch for me. I was wrecked that you never called. I mean, I thought we had something special.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” he said.
Halston peeked up at him. While he looked suave, there was a coldness in his eyes she’d never seen before.
Maybe the playboy doesn’t like getting called out for his bad-boy behavior.
“Did he love you and leave you?” Halston asked.
The women glared at her. “Don’t be fooled by him. He’ll have his fun, then toss you to the curb.”
“Actually,” Halston said, “I’m the one having my fun, then tossing him to the curb.”
The elevator doors opened. They waited for the guests to file out before she and Gabriel entered. As the redhead started to step in, Halston put up her hand. “No.”
After the doors close, she held the penthouse card against the reader. The light turned green and they rode up in silence.
She didn’t care about Gabriel’s past and she wasn’t going to think about the future. She had tonight and she was going to enjoy him. It was that simple.
“I’m sorry,” he said as the elevator climbed higher and higher.
“Don’t be. I don’t care who you fucked or who you’ll fuck after me.”
The elevator stopped, the doors slid open.
As they made their way toward her hotel suite, he said, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“We’re part of the misfit club.” With a wink, she held the keycard over the scanner. It too turned green. She turned the handle, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
When she turned back, he was standing there with the most curious look on his face.
He entered the suite, shut and bolted the door. “You’re the one who’s going to eat me alive.”
“Non prima di aver fatto di te ciò che voglio,” she said. Not before I have my way with you first.