A Need So Insatiable

by Cecilia Robert

  I roll my eyes. “How very six-year-old of you, Hawk.”

  “We spoke about wearing matching stuff, you know? My tie, her dress, her hand tucked in my elbow, looking beautiful and angelic--”

  Matching tie and dress? Red blankets my vision. “Shut the hell up, asshole.”

  “Now, now, Raf, let’s be mature about this.”

  Unhooking my jacket from the door, I glare at him. He’s grinning at me. I’m in no mood to be mature. In fact, I feel so immature right now, I might grow a beard, find a spear, and hunt Hawk down.

  “I’ll meet you outside.” I stalk out of his office before I can rip that stupid grin off his face.

  Sophie

  AFTER DROPPING Lilli off at school, I drive to Hietzing Cemetery to visit my parents. I park my bike in the parking lot, pull the bouquet of red tulips from the bag dangling on the handlebars, and weave among the graves toward their tombstone.

  After Mom died, Grandma had pleaded with Dad to have her daughter brought back to the US. But Mom’s wish had always been to have her final resting place in Vienna. They’d rarely spent time in the US after we moved, when I was four. Dad’s import business did well, and Mom’s career was soaring high.

  I stare at the ebony-granite headstone, “Family Fisher” engraved in cursive above Mom and Dad’s names and photos. I crouch and place the flowers on the grave, pressing my palms flat against it. There’s so much I want to tell them, but I don’t even know where to begin.

  “My rehearsals are going well, Mom. It’s going to be good. I can feel it. You taught me, so it’s bound to go well, right?” I close my eyes and smile. I can see her face clearly, smiling back at me.

  “Dad,” I say. “I miss you. I don’t know how to go about . . . everything and anything. I wish you’d speak to me and tell me what to do. How to handle Kravic. I’m scared for Lilli and me. And I can’t handle it anymore. I didn’t expect you to die and leave me with a debt so huge, I might actually have to sell the house.” My stomach churns at the thought of losing the place I’d grown up in. The place that holds so many memories, they’re practically imprinted on the walls.

  I rub my arms as a cool breeze sweeps across the grass and through the trees. “Lilli has taken Dad’s death so hard. I’m sorry she hasn’t come to visit both of you. She’s fine, she just needs time. I’ve already spoken to Grandma. She’s happy, and looking forward to having Lilli there, but Lilli’s mad, and I’m not sure how to make everything right. If I’m doing the right thing by sending her to Colorado, why does it feel like I’m betraying her?”

  I pick one stalk from the bouquet of tulips, and pluck the petals, scattering them over the marble. “I wish you were here to help me.” I straighten, wiping my hands on my jeans.

  “I love you both so much, and I miss you. We will pull through this, I promise. And please, don’t be mad at Lilli. She’s still hurting, but she’ll be all right.”

  As I head back to my Honda, the hair on the back of my neck curls. I swing around, scanning the low-hanging branches. Something darts across my vision, twenty feet to my right, and slips behind a large, black headstone. Not something. Someone. The face peeking back at me appears to be young. He seems scared of me. Is Kravic having someone watch the grave too? That’s so sick.

  Turning abruptly, I sprint past rows of headstones, my hand fumbling inside my bag for the can of pepper spray. Glancing over my shoulder to check my shadow’s progress, I realize he’s stopped following me. His brown, curly head bobs above a tombstone. I halt, panting.

  “Why are you following me?” I yell across the quiet space. Cold air slams into my throat.

  He glances around the marble blocking him, as if afraid of being caught. Suddenly, he leaps up and dashes away from me.

  What the freakin’ hell? “Hey!” He freezes. “Why are you following me?”

  He looks over his shoulder and lifts his chin up, giving me a look similar to the one Lilli excels in. Stubborn and determined.

  “I’m not following you. I like sitting around graveyards.” He waves his arm around the cemetery.

  “Bullshit,” I say, making sure my upper body is blocked by a headstone.

  I might be stupid, or reckless, as Mom used to say, but I don’t have a death wish. He might look all innocent with those huge, brown eyes, but I’m not falling for that. Maybe that’s the reason he’d been sent to shadow me. Such an innocent face. Anyone would think he was visiting someone in the cemetery.

  “My boyfriend is waiting for me in the parking lot. If you leave, he’ll catch you and it won’t be pretty.” Wow, I’m good at bluffing. I should look for a job as a stage magician instead of an opera singer.

  He turns to face me and walks backward, rubbing his skinny arms. Shit. He’s not even wearing a jacket.

  “He’ll kill me,” he says, running a hand down his face. Jesus. He’s just a boy, about Lilli’s age, and he looks terrified. I’m certain he’s going to pee himself any second. “It’s my first assignment, and I messed it up. You weren’t supposed to see me.” He grits the words between his chattering teeth.

  “Who will kill you?” I ask, even though I know very well who the culprit might be.

  He takes a step back, and trips on a raised tree root. The mask of brevity slips and he looks so vulnerable. He’s shaking so bad, I can hear his teeth clash together. His shoulders look pointed, his cheeks jutting out. There are black marks around his wrists and upper arms that look suspiciously like fingers. When did he last eat? What kind of people would hurt a child? This boy should be in school or at home. Someplace safe, not sneaking around cold cemeteries.

  Dropping my bag to the ground, I remove my jacket and sweater, keeping an eye on him in case he sneaks up on me. He continues to watch me with his eyebrows scrunched together. After putting on my jacket, I sling my bag back across my chest and ball the sweater in my hands. “Put this on, okay? No need to get sick and get fired.”

  He gapes at me, then at the white, cable-knit sweater in my grip.

  “Is this a trick?”

  I place the sweater on the angel tombstone in front of me, and walk backward, keeping him in my line of sight. “Why would I trick you?”

  As soon as I’m about twenty feet from the angel, he darts forward and grabs the sweater, quickly slipping it on. He might have sighed, I’m not sure.

  “Kravic,” he says, pushing the long sleeves up his forearms. “Horvath Kravic sent me to follow you. He knew your father.” He swivels around and darts through the trees and bushes.

  I rub my arms to suppress a shiver at the boy’s words. Why would Kravic send someone to shadow me? Does he think I won’t keep my promise, or worse, that his money is hidden in here somewhere?

  Walking backward, I scan both ways before leaving the cemetery.

  CARSTEN PACES outside Olivia’s Circle, one hand tucked in his jeans pocket, the other holding a cigarette. As soon as he sees me, he tosses it on the tarmac, grinds it with his booted foot, and bounds toward me, all legs and arms and wide smile. I take in his messy, dark-blond hair, wide shoulders hidden beneath a dark blue jacket, and long, jean-clad legs as they swallow the distance between us.

  Holy cow! Was he always this hot? France must have been kind to him.

  He scoops me up in a hug, swings me around, and then kisses me twice on each cheek.

  Oh, he’s Frenchinized as well.

  “Sophie, ma petite fleur! It’s so good to see you.” He leans in to kiss my lips, but I avert my mouth.

  Sneaky.

  “It’s good to see you too, Car,” I say, extracting myself from his wandering hands. “Thank you for coming.”

  He grins, snaking his hand around my waist so fast, there’s no escaping. I sigh and lead him toward the restaurant’s entrance. “‘No’ isn’t in my vocabulary when it comes to you.”

  When it comes to him, “no” is definitely in my vocabulary. Carsten is one of the sweetest guys I know, but he’s just that. A sweet guy. Now, the thought of Rafael pressing his
lips on the corner of mine . . .

  Holy crap! I’m so attracted to him, or, at least, the idea of him.

  I push that thought to the back of my mind for later, and try to focus on Carsten.

  “So, how was France?” I say, digging the keys out of my handbag to unlock the door. It creaks when it finally opens. Dust motes hang in the air.

  “A dream,” he says, spinning slowly on his heel, scrutinizing the interior. He whistles. “I can’t believe how this place looks. Remember when we used to run around, helping your mom? It was . . . whole.”

  “Yes, it was.” When Mom had been here, she hadn’t been Olivia Fisher, world-sought Soprano. She was just Olivia. A girl who’d grown up in Colorado, and helped her parents manage a diner.

  “Hey, you okay?” Carsten asks, taking a step toward me.

  “Yep.” I breathe in deeply. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Yeah?” he says, moving closer. “Does it involve you and me?”

  I laugh. “Yes, it does, but not in the way you think.” I swat his shoulder playfully. “I’d like you to come work for me.”

  His face lights up. “Of course. What do you need me to do? I haven’t gotten a job, so I have lots of free time.” He winks and grins. “Where would you like to start? We could begin with the walls, or the floor.”

  “I have something else in mind. Like head chef.” I hold my breath and wait.

  “Really? You really want me to head the restaurant?”

  “If you agree, I would be honored.” I’ll drop to my knees and beg, if I have to. But I don’t tell him that. Knowing Carsten, he’d torture me for days, having fun at my expense until he’d had his fill.

  He grabs me and presses his lips on mine. “Yes!” His hands slide down to my waist and pull me against his gyrating hips.

  “That’s not part of the deal.” I place my hands on his chest, gently pushing him away.

  “But there’s nothing wrong with rekindling old flames, no?”

  “That flame died the minute we had sex and realized how incompatible we are as lovers, Car.”

  “I’m better now. I’ve got moves that will have you begging for more. And I’m sure you do too.” He winks.

  “Carsten,” I say, moving away from his hands, pushing off his hard chest. I need to set ground rules with him or things might go downhill fast. “For this relationship to work, we have to be friends with no benefits. And I want this to work so damn bad, it hurts.”

  He sighs and takes a step back. “Fine. I’ll go look at my lair,” he says, heading into the kitchen. He stops and turns around, the playful look gone. “I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

  “I’m quite proud of myself,” I say, smiling like an idiot. “Thank you for saying yes. Oh, and one more thing, my friend Jace will help out whenever she can.”

  “Do I know her?” he asks, frowning.

  You will, soon. “So, how much are you going to cost me, Car?”

  “Your heart, ma petite fleur.” He grins wide.

  “Drop the French charm.”

  “And here I thought I’d woo you back into my arms with that.” He strides toward the kitchen. “Nothing,” he says.

  “Nothing?”

  He nods. “Nothing. We can talk about that, much later. Let’s work on getting this baby on the road first. Okay, Soph? This was like a second home for me too.” His expression is so gentle. I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “Car--”

  “Don’t fight me on this, please.”

  I nod, and he smiles before disappearing into the kitchen.

  I look around the circular space. Rows of tables, arranged in threes and fours, enclose a raised podium. Mom had it designed so she could have singers entertain during meals.

  The semi-circular bar with eight burgundy, velvet-covered stools fixed at the counter stands on my right. I walk toward it, and pull back the plastic covers, examining the intricate scrollwork on the wood for varnishing and refinishing.

  After noting what needs repairs and the tools I’ll need to bring from home, I check the time. I don’t want to be late on my first day of work at Hearts.

  I SHIFT my butt around on the leather seat, trying to get comfortable as Rafael talks into his phone.

  I can do this. I can totally kick first-day-nerves in the butt.

  Maria left an hour ago, after walking me through the basics--a computer, a fancy telephone that has a screen on it, and the filing system.

  I glance around Rafael’s office, waiting for him to finish his phone call. His office is stark, furnished with only a carved oak desk. No computers, fax machines or anything too technical, other than a telephone. An in-and-out tray stands on the corner of the desk. Pens are arranged neatly on the right side, next to a bunch of post-its. How does he work? Where does he key in his reports?

  “Ready?”

  His deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

  “Your desk is so empty,” I say, pointing at the bare space in front of us. “I somehow thought you’d have shiny stuff, like Hawk does.”

  “Shiny stuff doesn’t interest me. Hawk, on the other hand, was born into the wrong species. He should have been a dragon.”

  Did he just crack a joke? I press my lips together, fighting a laugh. Since I’d walked in, he’s been somber, aloof even.

  “Let me you walk you through the projects Hearts is currently handling,” Rafael says.

  Aaand we’re back to being stern.

  “We have a club opening the first week of November, a dinner gala the last week of November, and a ball on New Year’s Eve.”

  I nod, scribbling down notes. I study him from the corner of my eye. Is this the same guy who’d flirted with me during the concert, the same guy who’d kissed me? He looks so unmovable and professional, his sleeves rolled to his forearms. He stripped his tie off an hour ago, and now the top button of his shirt is open, the skin beneath it taunting me.

  “Nervous?”

  More like wondering how that skin there would taste. And, more importantly, why I’m drawn to you like this? “Not really.”

  “Good.” He hands me a blue file titled “Club Illicit”. “Maria has been working on this. Walk me through it.”

  I flip the first two pages open.

  “She made some notes on the side.” His finger appears in my line of vision, tapping on the side where Maria had scribbled some handwritten notes. That finger once touched my lip, curled my hair around it. It’s strong, masculine. “Ready?”

  I lift my gaze to find his intense, dark eyes on mine, and I nod. His lips curl up at the corners in that almost-there smile of his. His hair is all over the place, untamed, like several fingers have been tangling with it. How would it feel between my fingers? Soft and light like silk, or heavy and plush like velvet?

  “Sophie?”

  “Sorry. Got distracted,” I mutter under my breath, and clear my throat. Oh man, I hope I make it through this meeting without throwing myself on his desk and shouting, “Touch me!”

  “Club Illicit. Owned by Braden O’Neill. The club is scheduled to open October 21. His budget for the event is fifty thousand Euros.”

  Wow. For just one night? Braden must have money pouring out his ears.

  “Catering has been paid for, and invitations have been sent. All we need to work on is decoration, and entertainment. He wants strippers and professional dancers. We’re to provide security.”

  He rubs a hand along his scruffy beard. How would it feel to press my lips on that strong jaw? He makes a noise at the back of his throat that sounds like a growl. I snap my gaze up to meet his darkened one. Heat slaps my cheeks, but I don’t look away. Hell if I’ll show him how bad he affects me, when all he’s been today is aloof.

  His lips twitch as if he can read my mind. “Braden is stubborn. But he seems to have a weakness for pregnant women. Maria has been able to handle him, but she won’t be able to finish due to her condition. Don’t let him scare you.” He taps his bottom lip with his f
inger, his dark eyes seeming to take in everything; my lips, nose, hair. They finally lock with mine.

  Oh God, I can’t look away. Do I even want to? I wish I could read his expression, though. Feeling a little flustered by his extremely dedicated attention, I squirm on my seat again--I need to stop this squirming shit pronto.

  He leans back, the muscles in his forearms shifting as he crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s your baby now, if you want it.”

  “Holy cow! Really?”

  Rafael chuckles, leaning forward, fingers steepled.

  “Since you’ve laid out the proposal so perfectly, I think it’s only fair for you to see it to fruition. I will, of course, be with you every step of the way.”

  I gape at him. I’m sure it’s very unattractive, but holy crap! This is freakin’ amazing. He wants me to organize the event? Mom and I used to organize events in her restaurant. Best times ever.

  “Are you sure, Rafael?” I can’t help the quivering in my voice.

  “I have faith in you.” He does that thing with his lips, the promise of a smile. It’s all I can do to keep myself from perching on the desk and licking his full bottom lip.

  Dropping my gaze from that tempting mouth, I glance at the file in front of me, mulling over what I have to do now that I have more responsibilities. I’ll need to rearrange my priorities and organize my time between Lilli, the rehearsal, and Olivia’s Circle. The thrill I used to feel while helping Mom organize events pours through me. I loved that euphoric feeling after the hard work and success. I want to feel it again. I nod.

  His lips tug into an honest-to-God smile. I grip the desk, shocked to see the full-blown thing, dizzied by its brilliance. It transforms his face into something entirely different.

  “Fantastic. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I stand up. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Rafael.”

  He nods curtly and as I turn, I feel his eyes on me. How does he manage to heat me up with just a look?

  I spin around to face him, irritated at my own feelings. How can he act like nothing happened, like there isn’t a connection between us? Maybe it’s just me? He doesn’t see it like I do. Ugh. I’m stupid.