That wasn’t to say she had been completely hopeless in the dating department. After moving to New York, she’d gone on a couple of dates and even made out with the first one, but with the way her work was set up, that came first for her.
Not a lot of people understood that.
But Uilleam might.
Of course, she didn’t know that completely—she would only now be spending any extended time alone with him.
But what she felt for him all the same … it was too complicated and indiscernible to simply be considered a crush. That word felt too juvenile while lust felt too singular.
That was what this weekend was for, however. Feeding that curiosity that was burning like fire whenever she thought of him.
It was time to do something she wanted.
Despite the copious amount of clouds obscuring the early morning sunlight, it was still beautiful outside. Cool enough that she was sure fall weather would be right around the corner, while warm enough that it was clear summer was still hanging on.
It was the perfect backdrop to the sight of Uilleam standing next to a private jet on the tarmac, his phone to his ear as his gaze was trained off in the distance, having not noticed their approach yet.
She wished her heart didn’t try to beat right out of her chest when she saw him, taking in his striking appearance.
For once, he wasn’t in one of the three-piece suits she’d grown accustomed to. Instead, he was in a pair of gray trousers tailored for his height, and a white shirt with the top two buttons left undone.
She expected him to quickly usher her onto the plane, to say they were running late or something, but what she didn’t expect was for him to just stand there staring, looking as if he was surprised she was here at all.
His smile came slowly, taking over his entire face and transforming his look of indifference to something else entirely.
“Afraid I wouldn’t come?” she asked, tucking wispy strands of hair back out of her face.
His expression betrayed how he really felt even as he said, “You, more than anyone, continue to surprise me.”
“I’ll take that as a good thing.”
He circled around to the back of the car to assist the driver in grabbing her bags, toting them over to the jet where a flight attendant was waiting to receive them.
Uilleam turned back to her then, and asked, “Any last words?”
Was she backing out, he was really asking.
Even if she had wanted to, and there was no part of her that did, she had come too far now to walk away before she got answers to her questions.
The first time Karina had ever been on an airplane, she’d held the armrests tightly, her fingernails digging into the leather as she counted down the seconds until they were in the air. Even after, she still waited several moments for the disorientating feeling of being in the air to fade.
Each time after had only been marginally better.
Those times had been on commercial airlines. Never on a jet.
Especially not one that looked like this.
Everything was done in shades of beige and white, and even the carpet matched the buttery brown of the seats.
She expected there to be some awkwardness between them. They weren’t lovers going away for the first time together. She wouldn’t even go so far as to say they were friends.
This was new, uncharted territory for her.
There was a strong chance she was making a colossal mistake, and that she would live to regret it by the weekend’s end. But like a moth to a flame, she was willing to take the risk.
Just as she was about to list reason number sixty-three why her coming here was both wonderful and terrifying, Uilleam returned, looking far less annoyed now than he had before he disappeared to the back of the plane.
It didn’t make sense, the way her senses seemed to come alive whenever he was near. The way she was anticipating the moment his attention turned to her. And when it did; she wasn’t disappointed.
With just a look, he managed to make her feel like the only woman in the world.
Something told her that wherever they were going, it was going to be just as over the top as the car they were riding in once they had landed in a private airfield hours later. Much of her time on the jet had been spent sleeping, and she had only woken up when she felt Uilleam sweeping his fingers through her hair as they started their descent.
At first she had been disappointed she’d wasted a perfectly good opportunity to find out more about him, but now that she was able to stay awake during the car ride through the city, she didn’t mind it as much.
Medieval architecture gave way to more modern buildings, including one that stood out among the structures surrounding it.
Uilleam pulled in front of a gated side street where he had to step out to not just enter a passcode into the security box, but to also press his palm against the green screen before the gate made an audible groan as it rolled open.
Karina didn’t speak, not as they drove down the alley and around to the back of the building, the gate slowly closing behind them. It wasn’t until they reached the fountain—an angel with its wings spread, her graceful face tilted toward the ground as water rained down around her—that one word slipped out.
“Wow.”
Thick patches of grass bisected tiles of concrete, the landscaping just as beautiful as the house itself.
But that didn’t sound quite accurate.
Despite its proximity to the city, the place was a mansion with so many windows that she wondered how the view would look in the spring when the flowers bloomed again.
“Is this yours?” she asked, unable to help her awe as she looked around at the garden and the towering tree in the very center of it.
Fall had already begun to transform the color of the leaves, changing the rich green they had once been to a rustic shade of yellow and orange. Against the white brick of the mansion and the tiles of cement, it looked as if she was walking across a sea of color.
“Would you believe me if I told you I bought this recently?”
She turned quickly, trying to read his expression. “Not for me, surely …”
His smile was a touch clever. “Are you impressed?”
“I’d find it alarming.”
Uilleam’s laughter echoed as he pulled a key from his pocket. Opening the large ornate door, he stepped to the side to allow her in first.
She thought she was prepared for opulence when she stepped inside—something that reminded her of a museum more than anything else—but instead, she got the complete opposite.
Art hung along all the walls, sculptures tucked in corners, and the sofas that she could see weren’t made out of leather or some other impossible fabric that meant it could get damaged very easily. The living room itself looked open and inviting—as if it were well-lived in rather than a room meant for show.
“Would you like a tour?” he asked, setting her bags aside, rolling up the sleeves to his shirt as he walked over to her.
But before she had a chance to answer, his phone rang again. This was something she needed to get used to when dealing with him. His phone was rarely off, and even if it was, like on the plane, he still had it in his hand constantly.
“After,” she said when he glanced from her to the device in her hands.
There was an apology in his eyes before he took the call and stepped off to the side.
Trying to offer him as much privacy as she possibly could, she took her time looking around the exterior, breathing in the Paris air, still a little shocked that she was here at all.
And with him no less.
Unbidden, her gaze moved over to him, lingering on his back as he faced the opposite direction.
It was hard to imagine that someone as young as him was not only filthy rich—evidenced by the way he traveled and the Rolls Royce they’d climbed out of—but held enough power and prestige that people actually feared him.
And not even because he was violent in
any way. Despite all the rumors she had heard, not a single one of them had ever mentioned that he harmed people physically.
He played with people’s minds, even manipulated their lives at will, but he didn’t hurt them.
As quickly as he had been conducting his phone call in English, he switched to what sounded like German, his tone changing as he turned back to face her. It was obvious that he was growing more annoyed by the conversation the longer he went on, but he had yet to end the call.
She was almost becoming annoyed with herself that she liked seeing him this way.
Maybe she just needed to admit to herself that she liked him.
He gestured for her to follow him, giving up the pretense that his conversation would be over anytime soon.
He removed a set of keys from his pocket and fit one into the lock, letting her enter first before he came in behind her.
Karina had never been the sort to be easily impressed by material things and the abundant wealth she saw around her.
Though not many knew this about her, she had lived in homes that cost more than one million dollars and had even been in others that cost a fraction of that. Both had their positives and negatives, but she had always found she rather liked quaint places.
Sometimes family portraits and knickknacks reflected far more beauty and warmth than a place that was pristine without a single piece of furniture out of place.
But this place … it fell somewhere in the middle.
It wasn’t merely a penthouse he was renting in the city or a temporary home where he intended to sleep for a mere few days before moving on. It felt lived in.
She could feel his energy surrounding her.
Paintings hung on the walls, some abstract—made up of harsh brush strokes in bright, vivid colors—while others were more classical, beautiful, and incredibly old.
With Uilleam still distracted for the time being, she left him in search of a bathroom to freshen up, using that as an excuse to tour the rest of the place on her own.
As far as she could tell, there were three bedrooms on this floor alone and just as many bathrooms, but as she swept through the back hallway, she found another spiraling staircase that led down instead of up, and the closer she came to stand by it, the better she could smell and even hear the water below.
There was a pool down there. Somewhere she would definitely need to explore while she was here, but that would come later.
22
Evenings
While she could have stopped on the main level they’d come in on and waited for Uilleam to return from wherever he had disappeared off to, Karina instead chose to venture up the winding staircase to the next level.
If he asked, she would say she had come looking for him, which was partially true, but she also wanted to sate her curiosity where he was concerned.
Now that they were actually here, she felt a little unsure.
If nothing else, she knew of one thing that had brought them here—their connection.
The feeling she had wondered if she felt alone before he made it abundantly clear he felt it too. There was still the question of whether or not they would be sharing a room—something she still wasn’t giving much thought to though she definitely needed to.
It wasn’t that she was expecting him to jump her bones the second they were near any horizontal surface, but even she felt that desire.
The want and need.
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been with anyone else before. It wasn’t as if she could ignore what she was feeling.
The third level had the same appeal as the first—large paintings on the wall, a satin covered bench in front of a bay window, and a rather interesting looking bust sitting on a marble pillar. She wondered again whether he was behind the décor or if he had delegated the job to someone else.
The first closed door she reached was a half bathroom. The next, an office of sorts that could have doubled as a library, considering the sheer number of books inside. She lingered inside, gaze drifting over the spines of books before she spotted a lone title sitting on the ebony desk across the room.
The Art of War.
She picked it up, running her fingers over the cover and then turned it back over in her hands. Though Isla had always said the book should be required reading for everyone, Karina had never actually picked up a copy.
Now, she was curious about it again.
“Do you like sushi?”
The question couldn’t have come at a worse time, considering she was snooping just a little, but that didn’t stop a smile from gracing her face as she turned to look at him.
“I’ve never had it, so I wouldn’t know.”
She didn’t mention that the idea of putting raw fish in her mouth, actually chewing and swallowing it, made her stomach turn. But she had always wanted to try it all the same.
She was a glutton for punishment.
“An associate of mine has invited us to dinner.”
“Us?” she asked curiously.
His answering smile was warm as he further entered the room, eyeing the book she held in her hands.
“I wouldn’t very well leave you to fend for yourself our first night here.”
She shrugged.
Truthfully, she had come prepared for anything. While she was naïve about many things, she also knew there would be certain information he wouldn’t share with her. She doubted he would be giving her an all-access pass to his criminal empire, no matter if he thought she looked nice in a dress.
“So this business dinner is with …?”
“Haruto Nakamura. He’s mostly involved in imports. Has one of the best shipping routes across the globe. If you need something moved, he’s the man for the job.”
“And you’re sure you want me there?” she asked, a little surprised he was even offering.
While one of the conditions of her coming along with him to Paris was that she wanted to see the other side—the shady businesses he dealt in as well as the way he operated—but she only thought he would show her quite innocent things. Or as innocent as anything connected to Uilleam could possibly be.
His smile was a little less charming now and more cunning. “I always like to have a plan B.”
“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment.”
“Everything I say about you is meant as one.”
The man had a way with words.
Staring into the mirror, Karina adjusted the skirt of her dress again, eyeing her reflection critically before she started back on her hair. She hadn’t been sure, after leaving Uilleam upstairs so she could shower and dress, what she had wanted to wear for dinner.
It wasn’t every day she had dinner with international criminals.
Or Uilleam, for that matter.
Which was why she had selected a dress in a jade green color that was modest along the front with a back that dipped very low. With open-toe nude heels and a matching bag, she looked less like the journalist she was, she thought, and more like someone who would be on Uilleam’s arm.
By the time she came back upstairs, Skorpion had arrived, his phone in his hand even as an absent smile had graced his rugged face. A woman, she guessed. Men always got that expression on their face when they were talking to someone they liked.
More than once, she thought she had seen it on Uilleam’s face.
“Do you always attend meetings with him?” she asked, though her question really was, had he been around on the days when Uilleam had sought her out.
He shook his head, briefly looking up from his phone. “I’m only here as a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That just because I have a beautiful woman with me doesn’t mean I’m going to be distracted,” Uilleam’s voice came from behind her. “Though I might be wrong about that,” he finished before she felt the brush of his fingers along her spine. Quick enough that she almost missed it, but the lingering sensation reminded her it had been all too real.
“Have you always been this charming?”
“Une si belle distraction—Such a beautiful distraction,” he continued with a smile.
Uilleam led them to a black Range Rover, and with one click of the key fob, the tail lights blinked twice before he opened the passenger door and gestured for her to climb inside.
With the dim street lights, it was hard to make out much of the city as they drove away from the house with Skorpion trailing them.
“Is there anything I should know?” she asked, turning to look at him and enjoying the way the moonlight spilled over the side of his face.
“Both his wife and mistress will be there. His wife’s name is”—he paused, seeming to think over his answer—“Aiko? Or is that the mistress? No, I’m certain Emika is the mistress. It would be best if you didn’t mix up the two—they get violently aggressive if you do.”
She couldn’t help her look of astonishment. “Is this some sort of test?”
It sounded like one.
Would she be able to figure out which one was which without jeopardizing the business he had come to conduct?
“You have to give me more than that. Otherwise, you’re just setting yourself up for disaster.”
He didn’t appear nearly as concerned as she felt. “Or a more entertaining dinner,” he countered with a light laugh.
“You get far too much enjoyment out of manipulating the people around you.”
“Life would be undoubtedly less mundane if people weren’t so easily manipulated.”
Remarkably so. “Go on then. Give me a clue.”
“Aiko grew up on a horse ranch from my understanding. Her father was an honest worker with very little money. She was married off at sixteen to a businessman in Hong Kong, but a rival had him killed—or something unfortunate like that. Eventually—though this was never shared with me—she found herself in Haruto’s bed.”
That could have been either of them realistically.
Both wife and mistress would be sleeping with him.
“On the other hand, Emika is unlike any woman I’ve ever met. Conservative, yet ruthless. She’d be an asset if she wasn’t so unpredictable.”
White Rabbit: The Rise (The Kingmaker Saga Book 1) Page 19
