The sound of a door closing made the hair on the back of my neck rise, and, with a racing heart, I finished locking up and turned around with a contrived smile. It didn’t survive when I saw Christian was only wearing a pair of running pants and a gray long-sleeve shirt. My mouth went dry. I didn’t think I’d seen him without even a tie in all the years I’d known him. And, God, could he ever pull the gym-junkie look off.
I swallowed. “Why, Officer, you’re practically naked.”
I’d been so busy looking at his body, I hadn’t noticed his expression until now. And it was furious.
“Your view on an appropriate amount of clothes is obviously skewed.” His voice was strained. “What are you doing?”
I frowned, looking down at my itty-bitty white bikini. “Is it not obvious?”
“With you, nothing is.”
“I can’t tell if that was a dumb-brunette joke or if I’m so unpredictable it excites you.” I pursed my lips, muttering, “Probably the former, considering you’re as excitable as Jack Frost.”
“Gianna . . .” It was a warning. For what, though, I wasn’t sure.
I rolled my eyes. “Relax. I’m going down to the pool to swim off the entire bag of Hershey’s Kisses I ate last night, not to crash one of your silly meetings.”
He was going to say something—something rude or demanding—but before he could, he gave his head a subtle shake, expression strained, as if he was having to bite his tongue to hold whatever it was in.
He tried to leave me there, but we were headed in the same direction, so . . . we ended up walking side-by-side down the hall. He stared ahead, his posture strained. His jaw ground tight. The tension he put off couldn’t be healthy. He rolled his shoulders. It didn’t seem to help.
He bit out a curse.
His arm wrapped around my waist, he lifted me off the floor, and then he was carrying me back to my apartment like a sack of groceries.
“Hey,” I complained, though it was half-hearted because the heat coming through his cotton shirt scalded my skin.
“You aren’t wearing this downstairs, Gianna. There are kids around.”
“Don’t pretend you’re concerned about traumatized children.” His arm was tight around my waist, his body pressed against my nearly-naked one. My blood was boiling and stealing my breath.
He dropped me to my feet in front of my apartment. Took the keys from my hand and, annoyingly, unlocked the door in a single try.
“Go find a swimsuit that covers your ass.”
I put my hands on my hips defiantly. “Those aren’t in style anymore.”
“We both know you don’t follow fashion trends.”
“Since when do you regulate what I wear?”
“Since you’ve clearly lost the competence to do it yourself.”
I opened my mouth, but before I could protest again, he cut me off with that lord-and-master tone.
“It’s not happening, Gianna.”
“Fine,” I snapped, but I was only listening because the swimsuit was ridiculously risqué, with only a thong for bottoms. Sometimes, I thought I did things just to stir up trouble. Just add it to my list of daddy issues.
Spinning around, I headed to my room, pulling off my bikini top and dropping it in the hallway on the way. His gaze ran down my naked back, cool and electric, like the glide of ice on my skin.
When I returned in a new bathing suit, it was to find him looking around my apartment with distaste. I’d gotten most of the boxes unpacked and put away this week, so I was a little upset I didn’t get Christian’s approval. Not.
“You’ve thoroughly ruined the place, haven’t you?”
“If you mean I’ve given it some life, then yes.” I adjusted my boob in the neon orange one-piece. “Ready?”
He gestured for me to spin around, and, with a roll of my eyes, I did. The suit wasn’t modest either, with slits up the sides, but he seemed to approve—if not a bit reluctantly.
We took the elevator together, and my body played havoc on me, remembering how it’d felt to be touched by him. The dirty things he’d said to me. He was only inches away; it would take nothing to close the space between us. Something electrifying played in my veins. Made me dizzy.
“You look like a traffic cone,” he told me.
As we passed a potted tree in the lobby, I pushed him into it. He hadn’t been expecting it—he actually took a step to the side. Satisfaction filled me at the giant leaf that had the audacity to smack him in the head.
He shot me an annoyed glance.
I rolled my eyes. “Gosh, you’re so stuffy. I bet you’ve never done anything silly in your life. You really need to loosen—”
He shoved me into a towel cart. It was half-hearted because I was able to catch myself before I hit it.
“Close, but no cigarette,” I told him, breathless at the playfulness, before we split off in separate directions.
His eyes lit with amusement. “No cigar.”
“GET RID OF HER,” I growled as soon as Nico opened the door.
He leaned an arm against the doorframe and rubbed a hand across his mouth that was fighting off a grin. “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit. I want Gianna out of my building by tomorrow morning. And if you don’t think I’m serious, I’ll find a way to make it crystal fucking clear, Ace.” My voice was cold, but I let it warm around the edges suggestively when I said, “How’s your wife?”
His eyes flashed, and he sucked his teeth. “You know, if anyone else said that to me, I’d goddamn kill them. But I’ll make a concession on your account, considering I own the little nightmare of a woman you’re so desperate to fuck. Understandable you’d be a little touchy.” His voice was dark and mocking. “Not exactly off to the best start, but maybe, if you play your cards right from here on out, I’ll let you have her when Richard passes.”
Irritation unfurled in my chest. My hand twitched but I wouldn’t let myself react. I hadn’t had to throw a punch in years, and I wouldn’t start now—over a woman, no less.
“If I wanted her, I’d have her already.”
He let out an amused breath. “You know, you and I—we’re a lot more alike than you think, Allister.”
“Doubtful.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Gianna is a headache when she’s married, but single? She’s more trouble than she’s worth. I was giving you the courtesy of working something out with me, but if you don’t want her . . . there are plenty of men who’d be interested.”
“I’m not so easily manipulated,” I said, not letting myself take his bait on a hook.
“I’m just being practical, Allister. She’s a liability. And this time, I’ll make sure her new husband is spry enough to keep her in line.”
Spry enough to fuck her, was the first thought that came to mind.
Fire burned in my blood, and I saw red spots at just the idea of some other man touching her, pushing his way between her legs.
“I want her out of my building,” I bit out, because I couldn’t think about Gianna with another man for another second without doing something crazy—like actually going through with Ace’s absurd proposal and forcing her to marry me.
“Why don’t you cut your losses and check into a hotel? Or are their sheets not a high enough thread count for you?”
I hated hotels. The housekeeping always reorganized my shit, went through my things, and left behind their phone numbers outlined with a goddamned heart.
I refused to stay in a hotel because I refused to let Gianna know how deeply she was under my skin. I couldn’t even look at the woman, let alone be near her, without fighting the urge to do things I probably shouldn’t. Like tie her to my bed and make her come, over, and over again, just so I could watch the fire go soft in her eyes.
Nonetheless, I wasn’t going to last much longer with Gianna running around in a tiny thong bikini. But, thankfully, business should only keep me in New York for a couple more weeks.<
br />
I was in the middle of negotiations with Aleksandra Popova’s father, a Russian politician, during his stay in the States. But it seemed he was more old-fashioned than I’d thought, and he was pushing his daughter on me like an incentive. It was an arrangement I was seriously considering. Aleksandra was beautiful, traditional, and composed. She wouldn’t challenge me, ask me questions about my past, or dig her way into my business. She’d make the quintessential housewife. It would be a good match, even if I had to think about Gianna when I fucked her.
I adjusted my cufflinks. “Use Gianna to fuck with me again, Ace, and business between us is going to be a lot different. Understood?”
A corner of his lips lifted. “Never thought a woman could come between us, Allister. Say, you wouldn’t know anything about my surveillance camera in and outside the club being wiped clean last Sunday, would you?”
“Must have been a power outage.”
“Must have been,” he drawled. “What a shame, though. A whole lot of men would have paid to see Gianna in that get-up of hers.” He tsked in feigned disappointment, and anger burned my throat.
I turned to leave, but . . . fuck it. “One last thing.”
“Yeah?”
When I turned to face him, I punched the smirk right off the fucker’s face.
Ace wiped at the blood on his bottom lip, his eyes lit with amusement. “I guess this makes us even, Allister.”
I stepped into the lobby and, naturally, the one person I fought to avoid was leaning over the front counter, playing cards with the pubescent pool boy.
She wore a short little romper—one of those things she’d have to take all the way off to use the bathroom. So impractical. So her. Her dark hair trailed down her back, the longest strands stopping at a point just before the curve of her ass. It was another obsession of mine. Always wavy and uninhibited, just like her.
She looked over her shoulder as if she could feel my stare.
Fuck, she was pretty. With soft eyes, pouty lips, and a body sex doll companies tried to replicate.
Heat ran to my groin, and I clenched my teeth in annoyance.
Why did the most perfect woman from here to Seattle have to be this one?
She frowned at me, then turned her attention back to the kid as if I wasn’t even here. Women stared at me; Gianna glared. It was just a fact of life I’d come to terms with. Sometimes, I wondered, if she smiled at me genuinely, all coy and sweet, like I was someone she actually liked, would it finally be enough to end my infatuation with her? Reverse psychology and all that.
But no, she reserved those smiles for scrawny pool boys.
Pool boys with a death wish.
Who knew what his excuse was—a stray eyelash on her cheek, a hair out of place, her soft skin was distracting—whatever the fuck it was, he was going to touch her.
Over my goddamn body.
As I walked past the front counter, I grabbed his wrist before his hand could make contact with a strand of her hair, shooting him a touch-her-and-I’ll-kill-you look. He paled. I let him go and continued to the elevator.
“Oh, don’t mind him.” I could hear Gianna roll her eyes behind my back. “He doesn’t have a fun bone in his entire body.”
Maybe not, but my idea of fun certainly wasn’t watching some teenager who wouldn’t even know where to put his dick touch her.
Gianna and I exchanged a look before I stepped onto the elevator. Hers said, Stay out of my business. Before I could stop it, mine said, I’ve been inside that little body and I’ll goddamn say who can touch it.
Her eyes flashed.
Then, she lifted a finger and flipped me off.
THE APARTMENT GODS HATED ME.
I’d been trying not to concern myself with anything Christian Allister-related since that unfortunate afternoon in the back seat of his car. A part of me was still a little humiliated he’d witnessed my breakdown, but the other part couldn’t forget he’d been the best sex of my life.
I was still married.
And I wanted to sleep with the biggest prick I’d ever met again.
Christian wasn’t going to drag me down to hell with him.
Nevertheless, over the next week, I was put within close proximity to the man more than any other neighbor I’d ever had. I’d even physically run into him once. He’d looked at me like I was a vagrant who’d just asked him for money before leaving me there without even attempting a simple apology.
One might think our frequent run-ins would bring us closer together, and, although he did finally respond to one of my cheery, “Good morning’s!” with a dry expression while telling me it was noon, we were still about as close as Cady Heron and Regina George.
Five shopping bags hung from my arm as I adjusted the floppy hat on my head and walked through the lobby, heels clicking on the modern concrete floor. I’d been out with Valentina this afternoon, purchasing a few final items to add to my fall wardrobe. I’d yet to tell her about Christian and the fact I’d had rough, unprotected sex with him in his car, and I wasn’t going to. She’d make something of it that wasn’t there.
The doors began to close, but at the last minute, a hand shot out and held them open. Christian stepped onto the elevator.
His gaze came up and caressed mine.
I tensed and moved to the side, giving him much more room than he needed. His heavy presence stretched about three feet in diameter, and, these days, I did my best to stay out of it. It was like a vortex of dirty thoughts and racing hearts. Not to mention, he was so sexy and annoying, the closer I got to him, the worse the desire became to sink my teeth into the muscle at the back of his arm.
We both stared at the doors as they closed, my wish heavy in the air that somebody else would step on. Nobody did.
Like I said, the apartment gods hated me.
“I don’t bite,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Liar.”
His gaze flicked to me, and then a slow smile pulled on the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of smile seen on the bad guy’s lips after stealing the girl. Warmth rushed beneath my skin; a prickling, breathless heat traveling all the way to my toes.
“Fine. I don’t bite women in elevators.”
“Whatever makes you feel good about yourself, Officer.”
He wore a long-sleeve shirt and running pants, and the light sheen of sweat on his skin let me know he was just leaving the gym. He went every day—even the Lord’s day. It was blasphemy.
Standing slightly behind him, I took advantage of the view. I swore the man was made of nothing but broad shoulders and smooth muscle, the defined lines visible through his shirt. The sliver of a white Calvin Klein band showing above the waistband of his pants was enough to send my thoughts straight to the gutter.
I swallowed. “The sun’s still up, buddy.”
“I’ve been expecting you to file your complaint. Thing is, I get more corrupting done at night if I work out during the day. Don’t want to disappoint those good Christian women.”
The thought that he was sleeping with other women made my gut twist. Nor could I stop a rush of irritation any time Valentina even mentioned Aleksandra’s name. Her face annoyed me, and just the idea she had her French-tipped nails anywhere near Christian made my stomach burn. Gosh, maybe I was getting an ulcer. I reminded myself to make an appointment with my GP.
“I’ve yet to see you even use the gym, anyway,” he noted.
“That’s because I only run when something’s chasing me.” The doors slid open, and I stepped out, hitting him with one of my bags. “Just stay away from the pool, and everything will remain civil. Capiche?”
“Of course,” he said dryly. “Wouldn’t dare to ruin your day of lounging on a chaise with your pool boy on call.”
“Careful, Christian.” I pouted. “Keep saying sweet things to me, and I might think you like me.”
“Dormiste con ella, tú cerdo!”
Slap.
Chad blocked another incoming slap to his face by grabbing hi
s wife’s wrist. “Fue un accidente, querida!”
I scoffed.
“Un accidente? Tu polla no se deslizó dentro de ella, idiota!” Chloe slapped him with her free hand.
I jumped at the loud clap of thunder that seemed to rock the apartment building. Setting my needle and thread on the living room floor where I was sitting, I got to my feet and padded to the window. The sky was dark, though the glow of city lights caught on the menacing clouds rolling in.
Chloe and Chad were now ripping off each other’s clothes while professing their undying love for each other.
I flipped the channel.
The weatherman’s words were dubbed over in Spanish, but I didn’t even need to try and decipher what he was saying because the red cloud on his radar that was swallowing up Manhattan was clear enough.
I stood in front of the TV in an oversized t-shirt and lace boyshorts, with a cool rush of anxiety running through me. I wasn’t a fan of storms; they were unpredictable and destructive. They made me feel as small and weak as a little girl.
I hesitantly sat back down and picked up the dress I’d been hemming. Thunder rumbled across the sky, and I pricked my finger on my needle. With annoyance, I dropped my things. Took a deep breath.
It was just a little storm. No big deal.
My heart jumped at the crack of lightning right outside my window, and that was when the lights turned off. The lampposts on the street flickered and went dark.
No.
I squeezed my eyes closed, waiting for the generator to kick on. We had to have a backup generator, right? It was the twenty-first century, for goodness’ sake.
But the lights weren’t turning on.
And the dark was closing in.
In. Out.
In. Out.
The floorboards creaked behind me.
“I’m not going to hurt you, little girl.”
My lungs iced over.
There’s nobody there. There’s nobody there. There’s nobody there.
“I just want to play with you.”
Fear wrapped around my throat and cut off my breath. A tear escaped my closed eyes, running down my cheek.
The Maddest Obsession (Made Book 2) Page 18
