by Rachel Cade
I’m Your Weakness
By
Rachel Cade
Copyright © 2019 Rachel Cade
All rights reserved. This book or any portion there of may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
She should have known better.
Nikoletta Pearson’s day had been going too well.
Her all-night study sessions had paid off. She’d managed to ace her finals.
The bus ride home was quiet, and she slept, waking just as the bus approached her building.
Smiling through her exhaustion, she arrived at her studio apartment.
She let everything fall to the floor except herself and her dinner bag as soon as she walked through the door.
Then her phone rang.
It went on for a bit before she sighed and fished it out of her back pocket. It was a number she didn’t recognize, so she ignored it.
About halfway through her first buffalo wing, her phone rang again. The same number.
Nik grumbled to herself, but still didn’t answer. The person left no voicemail, so she began the process of blocking it when a text vibrated the phone.
Pick up the phone. No name attached.
Why? Nik wrote back.
The answer was the phone ringing again.
“Hello?” She felt silly answering it, waiting for her cousin’s familiar voice attempting to prank her.
“Hello, Miss Pearson.”
The man on the other end definitely wasn’t her cousin.
Her mouth snapped shut and she sat up on her couch.
“Who is this?” she asked quickly.
“I think you know who I am,” he answered.
Forty-Eight Hours Earlier
He didn’t seem like the type of man that would ride the subway.
He was too well dressed. Not that he was in a full tuxedo or anything, but his suit was expensive, definitely tailored.
It was okay to watch him because he was looking down at his phone, and the train was semi crowded. He wouldn’t notice her.
Nik had a tendency to people watch. And she never ran out of subjects in New York.
Usually just a few seconds was enough to satisfy her curiosity, but this particular man stood out too much.
Whatever he’d read had upset him, he looked up finally, straight ahead, scowling a bit.
Nik found herself holding her breath in her chest. At first, she thought the florescent bulb had caught his eyes until she realized that was their actual color.
They were a silvery gray, and piercing.
Combined with his flowing dark hair and tanned skin, he was probably the best looking man she’d ever seen.
It sounded corny in her head, but damn if it wasn’t true.
His jaw wound and she wondered what he was thinking. Did a text piss him off? If so, who was it from?
She was worried about this as if she didn’t have her own problems, like only having half her rent.
They came to a stop that wasn’t hers and the man stood up, mingling with most of the other passengers.
Nik didn’t even think; she went on autopilot. It was like the past year hadn’t happened, and she slipped her thin frame though the people until she was behind him.
While he was a man of presence and literal stature, she could easily blend in. Standing close to him now, she tried to ignore his cologne, but the spicy musk set her teeth. He was at least a foot taller than her five-foot four-inch frame, but in one small bump and one quick movement, she was holding his wallet in her hands.
In her mind, she apologized to him for whatever made him mad before and for adding to his problems.
The straight and narrow wasn’t as simple as people made it sound.
Present
“You have something that belongs to me.”
She’d never heard him speak that day.
But of course this is what his voice would sound like.
How the hell was she going to play this? This man found out who she was and had her phone number in two days from a random subway encounter.
“And that would be?” She kept her voice neutral.
“My wallet, Miss Pearson.” His voice was smooth, slightly accented but clear. Not a hint of anger, which scared her more.
“Is this a prank? You got the wrong person. Sorry.”
“Are you going to hang up again?” he asked.
She was about to. “Yes.”
“Why did you think it would be a good idea to steal from me?” Still no anger.
“I already told you, I-”
“You’re a good thief, but a bad liar. Tonight, you’re going to meet me, with my wallet. I will text you the address. Also, this isn’t the time to weigh whether or not you should show up. Is that understood?”
Nik stared down at her now cold food as the man’s voice burned her ear.
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
A swear screamed in her head and she couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice. “Yes.”
“Very good.”
Then he disconnected the call.
The wallet contained two grand in cash, but no IDs, no credit cards, nothing. Who travelled like that?
She didn’t have a clue who he was, but she knew the suit he was wearing cost more than that.
Why couldn’t he just let it go?
After paying her landlord, she had eight hundred dollars left.
Nope; seven fifty, because she’d gone to the grocery store.
The mystery man kept his word and texted her an address to a Manhattan spot within a minute of the phone call ending.
And he’d given her a time, 7pm, to be there.
At 6:55, she was taking deep breaths as she stood on the opposite block of where she was supposed to be.
Google had failed her in not updating that this was no longer a clothing store. Her hands were sweating as she looked across at the luxurious looking restaurant called Timea’s. She was a brown-skinned Brooklyn girl with a high ponytail that still got carded even though she was almost twenty-three. In her gray fitted t-shirt and black leather pants, she didn’t exactly look the part of someone who frequented Timea’s. Though maybe she’d get lucky and they’d turn her away at the door.
As the five minutes crunched down, she managed to cross the street.
How could you even approach a place like this, she wondered, despite being five feet away from the door.
Then the door opened and an older man with a receding hairline stood there. “Miss Pearson?”
Her face dropped, but she rebounded quickly. “Yes?”
His eyes slid down her form and he gestured for her to come inside.
This was safe, she thought, it was Manhattan. There were witnesses, right?
Letting out one last breath, she entered the restaurant behind him.
This was the part of New York they liked to show on T.V., not the part she was from.
Nik stayed focused as she was lead through an empty restaurant to a table in the center that held two empty wine glasses.
“Miss Pearson.”
The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. It came from behind her, as well as above her.
Shit.
“I suppose I’m a man you never thought you’d see again.”
Nik faked casually walking toward the table. “Why’s this place so empty?”
> He closed their distance again, gently pulling back the chair for her before she could get it herself.
“How’s it empty if we are here?”
He moved to the other side of the table to seat himself. He was in a dark blue suit today, with a gentle polka-dotted blue silk tie and a matching pocket square. His face was what grabbed her attention the most, and his eyes were just as haunting as she remembered.
“I’m glad you didn’t stand me up.” Just like the phone conversation, she couldn’t gauge what he was really thinking. And being on the receiving end of that gaze wasn’t helping her thought process at all.
As he gestured for the waiter, she managed to speak up. “You made it pretty clear that wasn’t an option.”
“It wasn’t a smart one,” he corrected before speaking softly to the waiter in another language.
She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel more alienated as the night went on.
Nik didn’t respond until after the waiter had left them. “I’m young. I don’t always do the smart thing. Was all of this… really necessary? We could have done this on the street.”
“I can’t get to know you on the street.” He shifted to cross his legs under the table.
All she needed was a red hood, because she was in the wolf’s den now.
Still, her face flamed up at his words. “You don’t need to get to know me.”
He relaxed into his chair. “How do you know what I need?”
“I don’t. But I want to give you what you want so I can get out of here.”
He leaned over the table, holding his large hand open.
Nik pulled his wallet out of her back pocket and plopped it into his hand.
His eyes narrowed a bit as he weighed it against his palm. “It’s short.”
Despite the situation, she laughed shortly.
Leaning back he opened it and counted the money against the table. “Where’s the rest?”
“With my landlord,” she answered honestly.
She wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or amused because his expression lay somewhere in between.
“I didn’t know I was sugar daddy age.”
Nik leaned forward. “Sugar what?”
“Sugar daddy,” he repeated without blinking. “The exception, of course, being I wasn’t a willing participant.”
“Can I go now?” She began pushing her chair back. “Are we done? Because -”
“Why would we be done?” he asked calmly, gesturing for her to come back to the table with two fingers.
“I don’t have the money to pay you back.” She spoke evenly, keeping all her emotions below the surface, including the fear that scratched the back of her throat.
“You stole from me to pay your rent. And I’m going to look in those pretty doe brown eyes and realize the money’s really not that important to me. Then you go about your way.”
That would work.
He groaned at her hopeful expression. “You are so young.”
Her brows collapsed over her eyes as she tried not to grimace. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid to do what I did.”
“It was indeed. But saying sorry isn’t going to get you out of it.”
“Fine,” she spoke, despite holding her breath. “I’ll pay you back.”
His brows rose; for the first time, the wolf seemed interested.
Just then, the waiters interrupted them to bring water, wine, and their dinner.
She stared down at the plate after they left.
“How do you plan on paying me back, Miss Pearson?”
“I have a job interview coming up.”
“Doing what?”
Why did he want to know?
She wasn’t giving him any specifics. “Earning money, so I can pay you back.”
“Have a drink. You must be thirsty.” He was content to just eat, while she had only managed a sip of water.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, after a third of his plate was gone.
“Why didn’t you have any ID in your wallet?”
“Try the chicken. It’s Hungarian, cooked to perfection,” he replied with a smile. “Perhaps I don’t want people to know who I am.”
“I just feel like you’re fucking with me.”
“Of course I am, but you started it.”
Nik stood up. “Give me a week. I’ll have your money.”
His silver orbs rolled over. “Now you’re being rude. Sit down.”
Despite her anger, the base of his voice and his cool stare buckled her knees, and she returned to the chair without protest.
“How will you get my money in a week based off of a job interview?”
Nik was in over her head and grasping at straws. This guy wasn’t going to let this go. She had a feeling if she had all the money right now, he’d still make sure she was indebted to him.
“Well, I would ask you to trust me but-” She cut herself off, sending her eyes heavenward with a shrug.
He chuckled. It was an odd sound, deep and raspy, but it fit him.
“You’re probably a resourceful young woman. I don’t doubt it.” He reached forward and sipped some wine. “I’ll bite.” Silence settled in the air. “I’ll give you one week.”
“Thank you.” She pushed back from the table in a rush similar to her words, but paused when she realized what she’d done.
And he eyed her every movement, before a slight tilt came to his head. “Class is dismissed.”
Nik nodded quickly and began a brisk walk out of the restaurant.
Once outside, she could finally breathe again.
The sun had gone down and she would need to find her way home.
Instead of all of it being over, it had just begun.
A short time later, she returned home.
The whole train ride, she scolded herself for ever being drawn to him that afternoon. She didn’t know anything about him or what he was capable of.
Her phone buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts as she lay on her couch an hour later.
You made it home safely?
Yes, she typed back, tightening her mouth.
Why didn’t you ask me for my name?
Nik’s groan echoed in her apartment.
Didn’t know if that was allowed, she typed back.
Ask.
She stared at the text. This guy was just amusing himself with her, but she had no idea why.
What’s your name?
Oliver.
You don’t look like an Oliver. On the fly, she decided to toss in an extra question. Where are you from?
Budapest.
“What?” She sat up.
Budapest? she typed back quickly.
Yes, Miss Pearson. I’m Hungarian.
“Hungarian,” she read out loud.
She’d bet her right arm he was a gangster.
She might have robbed a gangster on the subway.
“Holy shit.”
*
“Sir?”
“Yes?” Oliver answered after finishing his glass of wine.
“The young lady…”
He grinned a bit, remembering her quick departure from the restaurant.
“She’s different.”
Oliver raised his brow as Elek removed his finished dinner.
“How is she different?”
“Young,” the older man called walking toward the kitchen.
“Yes. She’s young,” Oliver answered as the man returned.
“As I understand it, she also stole from you.”
Oliver raised a brow. “Any other observations?”
Elek sat a silver trimmed plate of dobosh torte in front of him.
“I was only stating a few facts; I know you already have your plans for her. Enjoy the dobosh, sir.”
