Chapter 24 #3
Fuck! I mean the resemblance is unmistakable, same thick raven-black hair, same amber eyes.
But he has a scar on his top lip that gives him the appearance of a feral wolf, and that thought shouldn’t be sending smoke signals directly down to my pussy.
But it is. And they’re still waiting for me to speak…
“Hello Andrej. Leonid’s brother.”
I lean across the bottom of the bed and offer him my hand to shake formally, like this is a business meeting, and I need him to part with some of his hard-earned cash.
Or payment in kind. I wouldn’t say no to something altogether more appealing to my thrumming heart and the tingling between my legs.
His palm meets mine. His grip is warm and strong, of course it is, and his eyes draw me in, causing me to forget which way is up and that I need oxygen to stay alive. His touch sends a tremor down my spine, adding to the confusion creating havoc amongst my brain cells.
“Good to meet you, Cartier Black.”
I’m sorry, but how the hell did he make my name sound like he just rolled it around in honey and then dipped it in melted chocolate?
Is it a requirement of the Ivanov family that their men carry an aura of ‘come any closer and I’ll fuck you till you scream’? Is that what happened to Gianna when she met Leonid?
She was engaged to be married to an Irish guy called Seamus when she boarded the plane in Montenegro. The next thing we knew, she’d ditched him for Leonid and was expecting his baby. Babies, plural. And I can totally understand why.
Andrej Ivanov could whip out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket right now, and I’d willingly follow him back to his dungeon.
Bed.
Cold shower.
I fan my face with my hand. Why isn’t anyone else sweating?
Mika is standing right next to him across the room, and I don’t see her having palpitations.
Gianna is sitting there, propped up against the pillows of her hospital bed, looking as if she’s enjoying a spa weekend at a five-star resort rather than someone who just gave birth.
While I can feel my hair starting to cling to my overheated face.
“I’ll open the window.” Andrej must’ve noticed the heat emanating from me. Or maybe he can feel it wafting his way.
I’m watching the way his shoulder muscles ripple through his sweater when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I slide it out and I’m so distracted I almost drop it.
It’s a message from Mika, who is literally standing on the other side of the bed:
Are you creaming your panties or did someone crank up the heating in here?
Mika has always had a way with words, especially when it comes to men who are smoking hot.
It’s as if she has an inbuilt radar that can sniff them out from a hundred meters.
Whenever the three of us would visit a nightclub in Montenegro, she’d scope out the place within minutes and inform us which one she would be making out with by the end of the night.
Perhaps she manifested them into her life. Or perhaps she gives off all the right signals. Because I’ve never known her to get it wrong.
She gave up trying to set me up with a guy – any guy – around the time that I mentioned that Heathcliff was the only man for me. You know, dark, brooding, serious. A little like Mr. Bad Boy Ivanov here.
In fact, exactly like him.
I wouldn’t normally respond to Mika’s crude jokes, but my fingers need an outlet for the electricity still humming through my fingertips from his handshake. And staring at my phone screen will give my face a chance to cool down. A girl can hope.
I type: Is it that obvious?
Girl, I can smell your pheromones from here.
I shake my head and swallow hard while I compose another message: My mouth is dry. It’s the only part of me that is. I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
I sense Mika’s smile, but I don’t dare peek up at her. She’s too close to Andrej, and this room is so crammed full of Ivanov muscles that I’d still be able to see him if I was hiding under the bed with a sheet over my head.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Is the ice queen thawing?
I fire back: Is that a euphemism for wanting him to fuck me on every available surface while he gazes into my eyes and says I’m not done with you yet?
Send.
If so, yes.
When Mika’s reply isn’t forthcoming, I make the fatal mistake of raising my eyes.
Fatal because Andrej Ivanov has opened the window and is currently reading my text messages from over Mika’s shoulder, while my so-called friend angles her screen towards him to give him a better view.
Her smug smile tells me all I need to know: he read them all. As if he needed yet another woman to remind him that he’s a walking, talking, alpha. Now he also knows exactly what I’ve been thinking since he walked through the door of Gianna’s hospital room.
So, I guess I have two choices.
One: I throw myself across the bed, snatch Mika’s phone out of her hand, and hurl it out of the now open window.
Two: I pretend that I’m gloriously and naively oblivious.
I’m going with the lesser of two evils.
I zero in on Gianna, ignoring the curl of Andrej’s lip in my peripheral vision, and say, “Did you prepare a speech for later, Gi?”
My best friend wrenches her eyes away from her beautiful baby daughter.
Like a lioness protecting her cubs, she instinctively seeks out the twin in Leonid’s arms before she finally reaches me.
Each passing moment feels like an eternity with his eyes on me, but I don’t waver.
I’ve had plenty of practice over the years at keeping a deadpan expression.
Gianna scrunches up her face, and I already have my answer. “I’m sorry, Car. I was going to do it last night when I got home, but my babies had other ideas.”
She smiles down at the babe in her arms, and I wonder briefly if they’ll ever be able to tell their own children apart.
“Could you do it for me?” she adds. “Please?”
I glance at the clock on the wall. We’re running out of time, and I know how important this grand opening is to Gianna. The mayor will be attending along with plenty of other important people in Chicago; not the kind of event where I can ad-lib a speech and still expect to impress people.
“We’d both be grateful,” Leonid says from the visitor’s seat where he’s cradling the other twin.
“Of course she can.” It’s easy for Mika to say, she isn’t the one under pressure to write a mayor-of-Chicago-worthy speech while being mentally undressed by the babies’ uncle.
“I’ll help.”
My heart screeches to a halt and then starts thudding in reverse like it can rewind the past few seconds and watch Andrej repeat the offer.
“I’m free for the rest of the day,” he adds. His eyes meet and hold mine, and I’m frightened of what will happen if someone doesn’t pry me away from him soon.
“You want to help her write a speech?” The question from Leonid saves me in the nick of time.
“It’s fine,” I blurt out. “I’ll do it.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Mika doesn’t even try to contain her grin. “I remember the last speech Cartier gave; she got the director’s name wrong twice.”
“I was hungover.” I glare at her, but it goes unnoticed. “I’m quite capable of writing a speech.”
Mika is on a roll now, in full-on ‘let’s embarrass Cartier’ mode. “So hungover that she woke up in the shower that morning wearing a hi-vis jacket and steel-toe-capped boots that she stole from a construction site.”
“And whose fault was it?” I arch an eyebrow. “Who threatened to rip up my antique copy of Jane Eyre if I didn’t do a tequila shot?”
“Mine. I’ll hold my hands up.” Mika, unfazed, raises both hands in mock surrender.
Gianna chuckles. “It was funny, Car. You delivered the speech and then crashed out underneath the staffroom table with a packet of sugar as a pillow.”
“This is the reason why I don’t drink.” I address Mika and Gianna. “Because I have friends who can’t be trusted to keep me sober. I lost my favorite pair of cowboy boots that night.”
A smile tugs at Andrej’s lips, and fuck if my pussy doesn’t immediately react by pulsing like I just got an electric shock. “That I would love to have seen,” he says.
“Maybe next time.” Mika gives me the side-eye, but I don’t bite.
I’m not inviting him to go on a night out with us. I’m not inviting him anywhere. In fact, the more distance I put between me and Andrej Ivanov the better. I’ll get through today’s grand opening, I’ll go home and take a cold shower, and then I’ll forget all about him.
“I promise to keep you sober.” His tone is deadly serious, but the glint in his eyes is telling a whole different story.
“Andrej, I’m not sure—” Leonid doesn’t finish because his brother cuts him off.
“I can give you a tour of Chicago’s best nightlife.”
I glance around the room, and all eyes are on me. Apart from Leonid, who is trying hard to get his brother’s attention without making it too obvious.
“Cartier would love that, wouldn’t you, Car?” Mika prompts. “Her idea of nightlife is reading until her eyes go blurry and falling asleep with all the lights on.”
“We’ll have to see if we can rectify that then.”
“I like reading.” It’s the Cartier Black version of I carried a watermelon.
He smiles, and I make a mental note to train my heartbeat not to react in future. “I can show you a library that not many people know about.”
A library? Is this guy for real?
“That’s her ‘I can’t wait’ expression,” Mika says before I can think of a suitable excuse.
“Great. I’ll pick you up outside the refuge.”
His gaze is steady, cool. So why do I feel as if he has already undressed me and is planning all the different ways in which he can make me beg for more?