Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (26 page)

Noah’s chuckle shook his shoulders. “Just as much as you enjoy busting my balls.” His long fingers circled her kneecap, drifting an inch up her leg.

“Stop.” Avi’s hand stilled Noah’s inquisitive one.

The place between her thighs clenched, wanting him to disregard what her mouth said and listen to her other lips that were covered by her soaked panties. Sex was all her body seemed interested in these days. It was like her lower half only wanted Noah to quench the rising desires he stoked.

Noah turned toward her. A couple of his fingers skimmed over her eyes and across her nose before teasing her bottom lip. “Do you really want me to stop?”

No.
“Yes,” Avi muttered.

Noah’s hands fell away. His lascivious grin didn’t match his act of surrender. “No problem.” He relaxed again to a comfortable pose.

“Thank you,” Avi said, missing the weight of his palm right away.

The corner of his lip quirked up. “I aim to please you.”

The privacy glass rolled down.

“We’re here, boss.”

“You should be ready at three o’clock, right? Ro will be outside.”

“But—”

He faced her. “If you need to finish some loose ends, that’s fine. Whenever you’re ready, go to your apartment and pack a bag with anything you didn’t find at my house. I’ll see you later.”

A cool breeze blew inside when the door was opened. He stepped onto the sidewalk and held his hand out for Avi’s.

She couldn’t fight with him, because the clock was against her. Avi reached for Noah’s offered hand. His fingers curled protectively around hers. Their clothed bodies brushed together, reigniting smoldering heat.

He caressed her neck then tilted her head up. “I’m going to kiss you now, and I don’t give a fuck about your objections.”

She could see the curious stares from her coworkers, who were entering the back of the school.

“Like hel—”

The rest of her argument was muffled by Noah’s insistent lips and domineering tongue. His heated mouth captured hers as if she belonged to him. His firm, sensual lips forced her stubborn ones apart. His tongue teased hers. Avi meant to push him away, but instead, her hands tugged on his belt, pulling him closer.

The shrill sound of a bell insinuated itself between them. Her lips reluctantly left Noah’s. He rested his forehead on hers. Both took time to regulate their ragged breathing. Her hand flew to her tingling lips.

“You have to let go, Avi.”

Straightening, she shook away the passionate spell he had cast over her. “You’re right.”

Avi turned from him, walking toward the back of the car.

Touching the small of her back, Noah stopped her. “Let me.” He got her bag and small tote. When he turned, Ro was on the sidewalk near Avi and she had a glazed look about her.

“I’ll just take—”

Noah ignored her husky voice, passing her tote to Ro. Handing Avi her bag, he leaned his head down. Her scent would just have to hold him over until later. “I’ll see you later.”

She bit her bottom lip, spinning away from him. He couldn’t get a good read on her, or more specifically, on where her head was. Another thing he’d worry about later.

“So, I’m here now?” Ro asked from beside Noah.

“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll send a car back to come get you both.”

“Noah, this school isn’t going to let me hang around their building all day. And she doesn’t look to be in the mood to get me a visitor’s pass or whatever bullshit I’ll need.

Shit. He was right. Noah hadn’t necessarily thought everything through. “Just call Sofie’s guy, Joe, and see what he does all day.”

“Who the hell is she anyway?”

“That’s Harry’s kid.” He still wasn’t used to repeating her connection to the man who took him in. All he knew was that she was here and he liked it. “Watch her like a fucking hawk.”

H
e stood from the car and smoothed down the front of his gunmetal gray fitted suit. The compactness of New York City still took some getting used to, even after having spent the better part of his life between New York, Boston, Paris, and Cairo. Fall on the East Coast was refreshing. At least he didn’t have to concern himself with sandstorms whipping through his Muslim robes.

“
Bienvenue à Accippiere. Ack! Excusez-moi
.” The young security guard stood, shook his head, and switched to English. “Sir?” His speech was still heavily flavored by his French accent.

Identifying his first point of contact, he said, “
Je suis ici pour rencontrer Monsieur
Adams.”

The guard’s eyes widened.

“It seems you’re in charge,” he said, noting the empty lobby.

“I-I don’t know.”

“But you do. Simply point and direct. I’ll take it from there.”

“I really shouldn’t do this, but...” The guard left his post behind his security desk toward the elevator. “Please don’t say anything.”

“On my honor.”

The younger man reached into the elevator and pressed the button for his guest.

The top floor. Kings ruled from on high. And that was precisely the plan.

After a moment, the chime sounded and the doors opened to a sparsely furnished waiting area. He stepped toward the desk, painting a smile upon his lips when he caught the pretty receptionist’s attention.

“I’m here to meet with Mr. Adams.”

“Your name?” the woman asked, maintaining her professional demeanor despite the pink blooming on her cheeks.

“Idogbe Aswad.”

He tugged at the cuffs of his tailored pinstripe suit, and then checked the time on his extravagant watch.

“Excuse me?” her quizzical stare met his authoritative one.

“Announce me,” he demanded.

Her finger pushed a button, but her eyes never left his face.

“Mr. Adams,” the woman said, cradling a phone to the side of her face.

Whatever was said made the woman in front of him jump. Her cheeks reddened immediately.

“I have a Mister...” she peered up at their visitor.

He exuded calm while the woman withered at her desk.

“Ee-doh-bay As-wad.” he added.

The receptionist repeated the name to her employer. There was a brief pause as she listened. “No, sir. He doesn’t have an appointment.”

Men like them dealt in dollars. “Tell him I’m here to discuss the commercial building for sale on 34
th
and Linden in Flushing.”

She repeated his cover story then nodded. She placed the phone back in its cradle and cushioned the rejection with a soft smile. It was obvious the man on the other end of the call had deemed Idogbe Aswad a nuisance.

He had one interest and one interest only. He took two steps toward her desk. “Call him back.”

Her shaky finger touched the speakerphone button.

“What?” Noah yelled.

“Mr. Ad—” The woman was cut off.

Instead of his concocted ruse, he spoke up, “It’s Ido.”

“Mr. Adams, he said his name is—” the receptionist repeated.

“Send him in,” the reply was delivered with force before the line was disconnected.

Not a minute later, the blonde stood and walked toward the door. He followed at a more casual pace.

Noah stood when Ido entered the office and approached his desk. With arms outstretched and excitement in his eyes, he said, “Mr. Adams, a pleasure to meet you.”

Noah perused him with a blank expression. After a while, it became clear that the other man wasn’t going to shake Ido’s hand. The man in front of Ido intended the slight.

Inside he seethed, but was determined to continue now that he was here. He walked the short distance to a chair that was located in front of Noah’s desk.

“Something to drink?” the receptionist asked.

Ido didn’t wait to be offered the seat.

Behind him, he heard the receptionist share, “We have various brands of water, coffee, or would you prefer something stronger?”

The man Ido once believed would make a formidable sparring partner had revealed himself to be abrasive, unintuitive, and one who had underestimated his competition. Adams was unworthy of existing. Instead of a dethronement, Ido planned to annihilate the imposter.

Adams sat in a dark brown leather chair across from him.

A pleased smile appeared on Ido’s face. “You wouldn’t happen to have Turkish coffee would you?” he wondered aloud.

“We have it all, Mr. Aswad,” Bailey shared before asking, “Your usual, Mr. Adams?”

Ido expressed his pleasure at her words and silently congratulated the younger man on his business acumen, though any minor respect he had for the man had vanished when Adams didn’t greet him properly. He continued studying his opponent now that they were in such close quarters.

Bailey Calhoun, Noah’s receptionist, busied herself preparing their drink requests. The men silently regarded each other. Both radiated power and control, yet one refused to hide the ruthless edge in his sharp gaze. She placed a cup and saucer filled with dark, frothy liquid on a table near Ido, and then Noah was given his whiskey sour.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Adams?” she asked once she had ensured they were satisfied.

Noah shook his head, taking a slow pull from his drink. The door closed without a sound. Both men took a taste of their drink, enjoying them.