I had to stop and ask for directions twice, but eventually, I stood in front of the opera house. The wind whipped at my ponytail, and I shivered beneath my coat. The place looked deserted, but I tried the front door anyway.
It was locked.
I gave it a harder wiggle, but it didn’t budge. I cupped my hands and peered through the glass. The foyer sat empty, not even a janitor sweeping the floors. Maybe I’d have better luck at a later hour.
Disappointed I’d gotten nowhere, I started my trek back.
A few blocks over, a familiar awareness touched the nape of my neck. With an uncomfortable chill seeping through my skin, I halted and turned around. Pedestrians split off to walk around me on the sidewalk. Nobody seemed to pay me any attention, so I tried to push my discomfort away.
I didn’t make it far before feeling it again. Another glance behind me, and through the crowd on the street, I saw a tattooed hand bringing a cigarette to a masculine set of lips. The image reminded me of the man sitting in his car across from my hotel yesterday.
My lungs went cold. Could someone actually be watching me like Ivan said?
Why?
Horrid things like sex trafficking consumed my thoughts as I slipped my hands into my pockets and picked up the pace. I glanced behind me again to see the man in a black coat smoking and following at a comfortable distance. My chest tightened with each quick, shallow breath. Just as I made it to the hotel doors, I looked back to find he was gone.
Then, I ran into something hard and yelped.
“Whoa.”
I knew that voice. I put a hand on my heart as Ronan steadied me.
“You all right?”
“I thought I . . .” I was out of breath.
Maybe that man worked close by, and it was just a coincidence. If he wanted to hurt me, surely he would have done so while I was peering into an empty building on a deserted street like a sitting duck. Right?
I was becoming paranoid. And for that, I blamed Ivan.
“I’m sorry,” I said and stepped back, my unease fading in the heat of his presence.
“What did I tell you about apologizing?”
I frowned. “I ran into you. I was taught better manners than that.”
“Twice,” he said thoughtfully.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’ve run into me twice now.”
How could I forget? It knocked the breath from me. An unfamiliar awareness sparked inside. Madame Richie’s laugh ping-ponged through my head, and a shudder ran across my skin. Confused and slightly disturbed, I opened my mouth to apologize for that again but closed it when his eyes narrowed.
“This city is going to eat you alive.”
I took that literally, and my imagination cast a gruesome scene of zombies tearing into flesh inside my mind.
“You’re not superstitious, are you?” I asked suddenly.
A half-smile pulled on his lips. “Of course I’m superstitious. I’m Russian.”
I rolled my eyes playfully. “Great. Don’t tell me you believe all that D’yavol nonsense too? I’m unwilling to suspend my disbelief regarding red skin and forked tails.”
He eyed me seriously, running a thumb across his bottom lip. “Oh, he’s real, kotyonok.”
I raised a brow.
“Causing havoc and stealing away virgins at night.”
He said it so sincerely, a soft laugh escaped me. Something heavy and warm settled with each frozen breath between us.
His eyes were cautious as they took me in. “I see you got the coat.”
“I did. Thank you. I definitely don’t deserve it after giving the other one away, but I appreciate it all the same.”
“You would freeze solid in five minutes here without a coat.” His warm gaze settled on my thighs, his next words reproachful. “And you should probably consider wearing pants.”
I glanced down and noticed, with my coat covering my dress completely, it looked like I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. My wardrobe may be impractical, but it was mine here.
“I might have been raised in Miami, but I was born in Moscow,” I told him. “I have some Russian blood in me as well.”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the warmth between us disappeared like a puff of smoke, replaced with something frostier than the cold. My lungs grew tighter each silent second until I gestured to the hotel doors.
“Would you like to . . . come up?”
“No.”
Okay. Talk about being shot down.
“You were just skulking outside my hotel then? Waiting for unsuspecting women to run into you?”
A snort sounded from behind, and I turned to see Albert standing at the curb smoking another cigarette.
Ronan walked toward the car. “Come. We’re going to lunch.”
He wasn’t asking, but my infatuated heart pulled me in his direction without a single complaint.
He turned to look at me. “Don’t expect french fries though.”
“In that case . . .” I stopped with my hands in my coat pockets as if I’d suddenly changed my mind.
It earned me a soft laugh that warmed my stomach like a sip of hot chocolate, and I gave Albert a winning smile. “Good morning, Igor.”
He rolled his eyes, about to flick his cigarette to the pavement, but he stilled when I pointedly said, “Mars.”
After a defiant stare-down, he begrudgingly walked five feet to the hotel’s plastic cigarette receptacle and tossed it in. Ronan lifted a questioning brow at the strange altercation.
“It’s an inside joke,” I told him, like Albert and I shared something special.
Albert seemed to disagree. I heard him scoff as he walked around the car.
“We’ve talked about this,” I said with concern. “We all care about you here. There’s no need to be shy.”
The oversized man rubbed his face to hide the tiniest flicker of sardonic amusement before slipping into the driver’s seat. Ronan watched our exchange with a humorless look. He wasn’t amused, that much was clear.
He pulled the back door open for me without a word, and I swallowed when he sat close beside me. He smelled so good it intoxicated my senses, bringing back the memory of last night. I ran my clammy hands down my bare, numb thighs.
“I’m twenty, by the way, not nineteen.”
He looked amused by the admission, like I was a child announcing I was now eight while proudly displaying a hand and three fingers.
“Are you?”
I swallowed. “My birthday was a few days ago.”
“I’m thirty-two, kotyonok.”
Oh.
I assumed he was still in his twenties and realized I probably hadn’t eased his conscience in the slightest. What was twelve years anyway? A lot, apparently, taking into account my inexperience and his dirty, practiced words when he’d asked me if I was going to come on him.
Though how I acted last night certainly didn’t seem innocent.
It went silent. My heart couldn’t find its beat in the thick tension, so I distracted myself by taking in the sights. The clouds parted, and a ray of sunlight fanned across my face while I absently pulled the star pendant on my necklace back and forth. I glanced at Ronan to find him watching me. Deeply. Strangely. Like I was a sharp icicle hanging from the roof above his head, but the sparkle was distracting him.
I wondered what he would do if I touched him right now. If I ran my hand across his thigh to even higher. Would he finally put his hands on me? Warmth rose to the surface of my skin and slowed my breath. He must be able to see the soft heat in my eyes because his darkened. With lust or anger, I wasn’t sure.