Chapter 8
Kat
He was so handsome, it was ridiculous. I was in a state of total sensory overload.
Perched on top of the world in his luxury lair, eating kickass Italian food, and I still remembered the way my mother used to make it, just as her own mother back in the old country.
The mozzarella had to be just so, the tomatoes had to be fragrant and sweet and salty, and the oil had to be extra-extra-extra virgin, so new and peppery fresh, it burned your throat.
She died before I could pick up the knack, and Raffi and Gabri and I were all so sad for so long afterward, we hardly ate at all.
We forgot all about food. It was canned soup or toast, if we ate at all.
But this stuff was the real deal. The penne alla vodka was tangy and amazing, with real melt-in-your-mouth fresh grated pecorino.
The tagliata melted in my mouth. I would never have described myself as a foodie, since I could never afford to be.
I cared more about getting Charlotte a pair of glasses than I did about real Parma ham from Italy, or balsamic vinegar from Modena.
But serve me a meal like this, and I was converted instantly into the hopeless food snob I was born to be.
I ate more than I had ever dreamed I could, but I didn’t feel stuffed. It felt more like I was shoveling coal into a raging furnace. I just couldn’t shovel fast enough.
I guess I had been hungry for a while, but too nervous to know it or feel it.
I was also not used to eating in company, but I was enjoying the food too much to feel self-conscious.
Ethan went into the adjacent kitchen and brought back a tray of fruit, and a dish heaped with plump profiterole drowning in creamy lemon goop.
He served some to me, on the dessert plates that been left on the table. “Angela’s desserts are amazing,” he said. “With her profiterole to bargain with, I even dare to ask you a slightly more personal question.”
I braced myself. “Let’s hear the question first,” I hedged. “I don’t buy a pig in a poke.” No way was I going to fawn on him like his other women did. No matter how gorgeous he was. I would not be so cheaply bought. Lemon profiterole, my ass.
But he just looked amused. “I want to know how you learned to fight like that.”
Fair question, but I was having a hard time answering.
The effect he had on me was just hormones, I reminded myself.
I couldn’t even blame myself for it. But it still made me angry, as if I’d been infiltrated.
Some traitorous part of me wanted to simper at him and bat my eyes.
Cross and uncross my legs. Curl my toes and giggle.
I scooped up another profiterole, grabbed a cluster of red grapes, a few slices of kiwi, and organized my unruly mind. I didn’t often let myself get so close to people that this question came up, so I wasn’t all that smooth in the telling anymore.
“I’m from San Diego, originally,” I told him. “I started studying martial arts in college. I had a knack for it.”
“What discipline?”
“The gym I attended had a lot of different disciplines, including plain old street fighting. I tried everything, but after, I specialized in karate and kung fu. Now I run my own martial arts school for women and girls. I believe in empowering girls.”
“That’s great,” he said.
“In some ways it is,” I said. “But it’s in a neighborhood where nobody has much money, so it’s not terribly profitable. That’s why you found me temping.”
“You’re a crusader and protector,” he said.
I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I just like teaching.”
“So, San Diego,” he said. “Parents? Brothers, sisters?”
“None. My mother was single, my dad out of the picture. She knew better than to make that mistake again, so no brothers or sisters for me.” I felt the shades of Raffi and Gabri in my mind, a streak of pain and loss, like the trail left by a falling star.
Blessedly quick, as I was adept at moving on quickly.
“So you’re all alone in the world?”
I glared at him. “Maybe, but don’t get any dumb ideas.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Feeling sorry for me? Don’t. I’m fine on my own. Until I get dragged into somebody’s goddamn helicopter. Then things get questionable.”
“Please don’t start,” he said. “I brought you with me because I am sure you would be killed if didn’t. I still am convinced of that.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it does not translate into authority,” I said. “If I find myself in danger, I’ll deal with it. Those motherfuckers would get a rude surprise.”
“Not anymore,” he said. “You’ve lost the element of surprise, Kat. They know what you’re capable of. They have good reason not to shoot me in the head, because they need what’s in it. But they would blow yours right off your shoulders.”
I let out a long sigh, my mind reshuffling plans, goals. “Well, shit,” I said grimly. “Maybe it’s time to disappear.”
His eyes narrowed. “You say that as if it’s no big deal. You’ve done it before?”
Damn, the guy was laser-sharp. “Not at all,” I said crisply. “I just have a practical nature. I see no reason to whine.”
“And your martial arts school?”
That did hurt. “I would hate to leave them,” I admitted. “With no warning, no explanation. It feels like a betrayal. But I tell you what, Masters—how is it any different for them, if those assholes kill me, or if you trap me up here like a cat in a tree?”
“It is not the same,” he said, through his teeth. “You would be safe.”
“I beg to differ. Anyhow. Now that we’ve cleaned up, chilled out, had some lunch, let’s just call your helicopter, or car, or teleporter, or whatever the hell you’ve got in your space-age garage, and have someone drive me straight back to Seattle, to my house.
Where I live. Like a goddamn normal person. Okay?”
“To certain fucking death,” he said harshly.
“Just please, leave me to my fate,” I said, through my teeth. “My certain death is my own business, thank you very much.”
“Let me make a counter-offer,” he coaxed.
“Let me send my people to monitor your home and your martial arts school while you stay here tonight. Let’s find out if our mutual enemies have put a name to you, hunted down your address, possibly even put your students in danger.
That would be solid, useful, actionable data for you, right? And it costs you nothing.”
“And what would I owe you for that?”
“Nothing,” he said. “It would be sleazy and opportunistic to expect anything of you, since I muscled you into this. I give you the info you need, you stay safe. If they make a move on you, then I have a fresh opening, which I badly need. In the meantime, you can kick back, have a glass of wine, enjoy the view. Let yourself be pampered.”
His expression revealed nothing, but I felt the energy, roaring off him. The heat, the need, the intense curiosity.
Curiosity was the most dangerous thing of all.
“Maybe you haven’t gotten my vibe,” I said. “I don’t do pampered. I’m not the type to lounge around sipping a drink and enjoying the view.”
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. I would go to incredible lengths to make you feel welcome, if you’ll just stay safe in my fortress while my team does its thing.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Anything?”
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. It sounded so suggestive, so flirtatious. And how could I risk that, isolated with a guy so accustomed to having the upper hand? It was too late, though. The smolder in his eyes was a hot blaze.
“Anything,” he said softly.
I licked my lips. “Um. Maybe I gave you the wrong idea, back in the elevator, when I invited you to coffee.” My voice sounded nervous and prim to my own ears.
“Did you?” he said. “And then saving my ass in that elevator, like the warrior goddess that you are? I have never had such a powerful idea. Right or wrong.”
“Ah…” My voice trailed off.
Okay. This was the part where I put him in his place. Made him feel like a fool for suggesting it. Bitch-slapped him into gibbering submission. That was my usual playbook, when men came on to me.
It was the kindest thing I could do for them, after all. I was trying to protect them from my shitty life, from my fucked-up destiny, and my numerous personality disorders.
But Ethan Masters was the kind of man who didn’t need to be protected. I could even consider indulging—until he figured out for himself how bad an idea this was.
Maybe, if we imposed clear limits from the very start, it wouldn’t even come to that. Maybe this could be a brief parenthetical statement in the more or less arid shitshow that was my life. A moment of sensual luxury to treasure in the years to come.
Holy freaking crap, look at me. I was actually considering it.
And he knew it. He could read it, in my aura. Damn the man.
“It would be really stupid,” I said.
“Oh, probably,” he agreed. “But it would be a lot of fun. I would make very sure it was worth your while.”
I could feel my face heating up. Jeez, was I actually blushing? I licked my lips again, then wished I hadn’t when he stared at them as if he was hypnotized.
“I am not interested in having a boyfriend,” I told him. “Particularly not a boyfriend that a whole bunch of assholes are trying to kill. That sounds stressful.”
“That actually works for me, too,” he said.
“I love sex, but I don’t do romance, or commitment, for all the reasons you saw today.
My life is nuts, it’s too fucking dangerous, and my priorities are elsewhere.
But here we are, together. If you were into it, today is the perfect moment to indulge.
No strings, no obligations. No expectations, other than pleasure.
I will make it good for you. I swear it. ”
I let out a nervous, jerky laugh. “Wow. That is, ah…quite the claim.”
“I’m good for it.” His voice was deep and resonant, a caress of my nerve endings. It made shivers rush over the surface of my overheated skin.
I got up, and walked out onto the terrace. It was cool out there, a breeze ruffling my hair. I leaned on the wrought-iron railing, clutching it with both hands, until my knuckles were white. Staring out at that vast array of peaks and shadowy valleys.
Ethan joined me, leaning on the railing next to me. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I shouldn’t have made a move on you after what happened today.”
“Oh, God, no,” I said. “That has nothing to do with it.”
“Was it something else that I said?”
I shook my head, angrily. “No,” I said. “It’s me.”
“What do you mean?” he prompted.
“I mean that I’m the problem,” I said, my voice tight. “Not you, not the whole forced-abduction-to-your-deluxe-bat-cave schtick, none of that. Me.”
“I fail to see any problem,” he said. “On the contrary.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, but you will. I promise, you will.”
He waited, a long, careful pause. “Tell me about that,” he said evenly.
I shook my head. “It’s just that I’m bad at it.”
He gave me a blank look. “Bad at…you mean—”
“Yes. Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Bad at sex. It’s not like I’m asexual, or anything. I am definitely not asexual. Things would be easier if I were. But I just…it just does not work for me.”
“Why not?” he asked gently.
I threw up my hands, then grabbed the railing again.
“I’m too tense,” I said. “Too anxious. If anyone tries to touch me, I slap his hand away. And after a while, that puts a real damper on the sexytime, let me tell you. Remember when I practically drove my high heel through that asshole Clemens’ eye this morning?
It’s like that with all the guys. Even if they aren’t assholes. ”
“Are you a virgin?” He sounded curious, fascinated. Not put off.
“No,” I admitted, embarrassed. “I’ve done the deed, in a matter of speaking, but it was never an event that I or any of my lovers wanted to repeat.
I’m too guarded, too tightly wound. As far as I can tell, you have to let down your guard to make sex work, and I just can’t.
So it always goes to shit.” I looked away, hoping he couldn’t hear the quiver in my throat.
But he just shifted, until he was standing next to me. Almost making contact.
“I touched you, today,” he said. “Several times. I lived to tell the tale.”
“Yeah? I hope you put some antibiotic ointment on that ear. I’d really hate to see it fester. Human bites are nasty that way.”
He laughed, putting his hand to his ear. “I disinfected it. No worries.”
“It’s a bad idea, Ethan. I would disappoint you. And I would probably make you feel bad about your sex game, which would be unfair, since I am sure it is perfectly amazing. True thing. I am not the girl you think I am. Too much baggage.”
Now he was even closer. Usually, I would be cringing away from that much closeness, but I was almost tempted to lean in to his warmth.
“Tell me about your baggage,” he urged. “I’m curious.”
I let out a crack of bitter laughter. “Hell, no. Talk about unsexy.”
“Everything you do is sexy. You won’t disappoint me.”
“Hah. Just give me time.”
“All the time you need,” he said smoothly. He laid his hand on mine.
Instead of the usual knee-jerk flinch, I just felt a whole-body shiver. A shuddering, knee-weakening rush of sweet, startling heat—and anticipation.
This was unprecedented. This yearning. To know him, to be known. His hand was so warm on mine. He leaned closer, those gorgeous dark eyes looking right into the fathomless black hole that was my life, and not flinching from it.
Abruptly, my paranoia shifted from being afraid of the sad non-event that sex would inevitably be if I couldn’t let down my guard.
Suddenly, I was terrified of where I might end up if I found that I could.