An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) (11 page)

Her cheeks felt hot as she used her debit card to pay the cashier. She took her bag and thanked a young girl that held the door open for her before walking out into the windy day.

As she started down the sidewalk, having left her car at home as she usually did when traveling around her neighborhood, Sydney kept her head down and her hood tight around her neck. She wished she’d remembered to grab her earbuds—

A heavy arm snaked around her waist, and fear slammed into her. She was pulled to a stop with seemingly no effort and drawn into a hard body.
Luiz!

“Rule one: always monitor your environment.”

That rolling
r
and dark-chocolate scent now surrounding her had a whimper of relief squeezing out of her throat. Furious, she gripped her bag with one hand and slapped hard at the arm around her with the other. Three good whacks. “You scared the
shit
out of me, Maksim! What is wrong with you?”

He spun her to face him and, grinning down at her, walked her backward toward the outside wall of the market to get them out of the way of foot traffic. His hands remained at her waist, and she could feel the pressure he was exerting with his thumbs against her ribs right through the leather of her jacket. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be touched, even in so simple a way, and continued to glare up at him. Her ire faltered when he bent and nuzzled her ear.

“You need to work on your greeting, princess. This one sucks. There should be stars in your eyes when you look at me, not daggers.”

“What a-are you doing?” She cringed at the breathless note in her voice.
Already? Jeez. How easy are you?
her pride complained. “How did you find me?” And was this mauling really necessary? She didn’t think so.

“I have my ways. I came by to personally set up our first date. I want you ready by seven. We’re going to a play,” he drawled, his tone making it clear
a play
was the last place he wanted to be taking her tonight.

“We are?”

He drew back, and his brow went up. “Yes, we are.”

She was just about to chastise him about proper etiquette. Let him know he should be
asking
her to the play, not
telling
her they were going. Then she remembered this wasn’t going to be a real date. His touch wasn’t real. The desire bleeding into his smile wasn’t real. None of it was meant for her, but for whomever he thought might be watching.

“Are we being watched?” she whispered.

“You never know.”

“Oh, okay.” Feeling nervous now, she asked, “Um, what kind of production is it? How should I dress?” Not that she was worried she would embarrass herself, she just wanted to be prepared. Having rubbed elbows with Sydney’s elite for the first seventeen years of her life, she knew how to play the game against the worst of snobs. It was the prospect of being observed while she did it that was making her stomach quiver.

“You shouldn’t.”

She pushed gently at Maksim’s chest, trying for some space between them. “Really. Sounds classy,” she said distractedly. The people walking by were staring. But she had to admit he was exceptional to look at, so she couldn’t fault them. Especially the ogling women.

“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that. Wear something black, low-cut, and I want to be able to tell that you’ve chosen to go without panties.”

That got her attention.
“Russia!”
She laughed. Couldn’t help it.

“That’s my girl. Now you look the part.” He cupped her cheek, keeping her head tipped back so she was looking up at him. He grew serious and his actions lent an intimacy to the interaction that she was sure would fool anyone observing them.

He then proceeded to give her shit. “If you want Morales off your ass, you’re going to have to make more of an effort, Sydney. I’m seeking you out to interrupt your everyday routine as any lover would. You wouldn’t give your man hell for that in real life, I hope. And believe me, if you were sharing my bed, you’d be pulling me in, not pushing me away. You asked for this. Now do your part.”

The berating tone he used left her feeling as if she’d failed her first test. If there was anything Sydney hated, it was being on the defensive. Yet, as most times with this man, here she was. “How am I supposed to feel comfortable enough to fall all over you when we’ve only just started this?”

“Luiz isn’t supposed to know we’ve only just started this,” he said impatiently.

Her temper flared. So, figuratively slapping on her role-playing hat, she bent and placed her bag at her feet. She’d show him. In high school she’d been in countless plays; in many of them she’d had the lead role. When given a proper script, she knew how to act. But she could also wing it.

Which is what she did. Sifting through the layers of his coat and suit jacket, she tipped her head and cuddled her cheek into that warm palm as she glanced up at him through her lashes. Coy and gag-worthy, that was her in that moment. She felt stupid, but that didn’t stop her from placing her hands flat on his abs—the rolling pins beneath his skin had her fingers involuntarily curling so that her nails dug in slightly.
Holy shit. Ripped.
His eyes narrowed, and the disapproving expression on his face faded somewhat as she touched him for the first time.
It’s just pretend
, she reminded herself before speaking.

“Please forgive me for not being as experienced at deception as you are. You act as though I should already know my response to moves I don’t even know you’re going to make. I’m not used to lying and pretending I’m something I’m not.” Her actions might be loverlike, but her voice wasn’t.

“If this is going to work,” she continued, running her hands slowly up his chest, over his rounded pecs and rock-hard shoulders. The man obviously worked out a lot. “And you want me to appear to be into you, then you’re going to have to watch your tone. Any woman with an ounce of self-respect would find it very difficult to smile and look as though she’s staving off an orgasm when her partner speaks to her in such a way.” Her eyes roamed his features, and her hands made slight claws that scratched their way up his nape. When she reached the back of his head, she pulled him down and brushed the lightest of kisses across his lips. “If this is how you treat your throng of followers, I’m not surprised you’ve had to resort to stalking to get a date.” She kissed him hard for a moment—mouth closed—before releasing him to pick up her bag. As an afterthought, she swiped her pinkie over his bottom lip, as though to remove her lipstick smear. Then, pasting on a syrupy-sweet smile, she walked away.

“I’ll be in the alley by seven,” she called back.
Arrogant jerk.
She hoped his groin hurt.

It was in a daze that Maksim found himself climbing back into the passenger seat of the Hummer, his balls aching as if they’d been kicked.

“Okay. After her initial scare, I’ll admit that was convincing as shit. Are you sure you’re not fucking her?”

He looked across the console at Micha—who was actually grinning—and shook himself out of the stupor of lust Sydney had left him in.
Christ.
And he’d thought
he
had skills. With a little prodding, who knew how far she’d go? He licked a hint of her taste off his lips. She sure didn’t take criticism well. Was defensive to the extreme, as a matter of fact. Why? He couldn’t help but wonder.

“No fucking,” he assured him—or was that a reminder? “If she’s being followed, you think they bought that?”

“Short answer? Yes. But they’ll definitely wonder why you let her walk away.”

Maks began to wonder the same thing as his Aussie continued to walk away from him after every touch, every caress, every chaste kiss they exchanged. The night after the evening of the play, which Maks had been surprised to find wasn’t horrible, he invited Sydney on a walk through Central Park—something he’d never done before—and by the end, he found himself wondering why not. Sydney seemed to enjoy it, too.

Bringing her home, the radio playing to fill the too-comfortable silence that had cropped up between them, he drove up the alley behind her building, parked next to her BMW, and turned the ignition off.

“I think that was better than the play,” she said as she dug in her large black purse for something.

“Oh? How so?”

She shrugged. “I like the fresh air. I’d rather be outside than in.”

Maksim took a moment to observe the difference in her. Two days ago she’d been a nervous, frightened wreck. Now, with a little support from yours truly, she was slowly coming to be herself again. Or close to. Every little while a shadow of anxiety would creep in and steal the light from her eyes—her lack of faith in his abilities was insulting. But at least she wasn’t as prickly with him as she used to be.

“Same,” he eventually said. “But sorry. As much as you enjoyed it, we won’t be doing it again. Our company is going to wonder why I’m not coming up, by the way.”

She looked over, her keys now clutched in her hand. “Why won’t we do it again? And what company?”

“We were too exposed. And the company that’s been following us, or more likely following you. I spotted him outside the theater last night, bent over lighting a cigar in front of the sub shop. He was on our ass again tonight, hanging back in the park. He fucked up by coming out of a path in front of us rather than behind. Tried to cover by making a purchase at the gelato truck but
. . .
” Maks shrugged.

Sydney was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Why didn’t you say something?” she gasped, looking behind them toward the street.

He rolled his eyes and pointed at her. “For exactly that reason. You have to take things in without actually looking at them, princess. You’d make a terrible spy.”

That earned him a wrinkled nose and a stuck-out tongue. She was becoming comfortable with him, and he wasn’t sure whether to like that or not.

“Don’t do it unless you mean it,” he drawled. “Our tail is Eberto Morales.”

She stared again, then spoke after a few tense seconds. “So that means this is working?” She sounded hopeful. “I mean, if he hasn’t approached me, maybe he’s afraid of you. He, or Luiz, could have come into the club at any time last night, but neither of them did. But they might come tonight.” She chewed on her lip. “Or maybe Eberto is going to see Luiz right now to tell him we were together again—”

“Sydney. Slow down. Micha has eyes on him, and he’s sitting halfway down the block from your club. He hasn’t seen nearly enough to be convinced of anything yet. And of course Eberto’s afraid of me.”

“Of course,” she agreed sarcastically. “But what more does he need to see?”

His brow went up. “Please tell me you’re not that naive. Two people spending a handful of hours together doesn’t make them a couple.”

She snorted and pulled her bag in front of her as she settled her back against the door. “I know that. But as you said yesterday, Luiz doesn’t actually know how long we’ve ‘been together.’ We’re acting with enough familiarity for it to appear we’ve been seeing each other for months.”

“It would take months for you to hold a man’s arm during a walk through the park? He’d have to wait months before you’d kiss him on the sidewalk in front of a bunch of strangers you’re never going to see again?”

“No, of course not. Well, it would depend on how I felt about him, I guess.” Her leg started bobbing. “How long do we have to sit out here anyway?” she asked, brooding now. What a mercurial little thing she was.

“For as long as it would take to work each other up, tear ourselves apart because fucking in a vehicle is juvenile, make out a little more, and then you’d have to put your foot down and insist you have to go upstairs so you can get ready for work. This would be much more comfortable if you’d allow me into your loft. What are you hiding up there? A couple of bodies?”

She shifted in her seat but didn’t change position. She cleared her throat. “No. I’m just a private person and would prefer to keep this thing separate from my real life.”

Was that meant to appease him as an explanation? “And me seeing where you live would affect your real life
. . .
how?”