"Not the only thing." His hand moves to cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "You're sure of this. I can see it in your eyes."
"I don't even know you."
"Yes, you do." He leans closer, his breath warm against my lips. "You've known me since the moment we met. You felt it too."
“I don’t trust this.” I can feel my pulse racing, my breath catching. “I don’t know what it means.”
"It means you're mine," he murmurs, and then his mouth is on mine, devouring me.
A second later I jolt awake, my heart racing, my skin flushed. It’s just after three a.m., according to the clock on my nightstand. And I feel as if I’ll never get back to sleep.
It was just a dream.
But it felt real—as real as any of the encounters that we had in Boston.
I lay back down and close my eyes, but I know I’m not getting any more sleep tonight. And try as I might, I don’t think I’m going to just forget him, either.
Not easily, anyway.
6
ILYA
The penthouse that I selected in New York is perfect.
It comes fully furnished and decorated; sparsely, but that’s fine with me. I dont’t object to minimalism. It’s warmer than my penthouse in Boston; the decorator hired for this space leaned more toward cream and brown hues, with lots of leather, iron detailing, and plush textiles where textiles are called for. That, too, I’m fine with—maybe if I bring Mara here, she’ll find it attractively decorated.
When. Notif. There can be noifwhen it comes to her, not when I’ve already decided that she’s mine. I have no intention of giving her up. And by the time she learns who I am, I intend for her to be so fully in my grasp that she won’t care.
I want her as addicted to me as I am obsessed with her.
But the best part about the penthouse—and the reason I chose it—is the location.
It’s directly across from her apartment. And, after looking over the floor plan of her unit, I’m all but certain that my living room has a direct view into her bedroom.
Perfect.
I can also see into her living room, which is useful, but not as interesting as the bedroom view. Just the thought of what I might see there has my pulse racing in anticipation, my cock thickening against the fly of my trousers as I imagine the potential views. No city landscape or outdoor vista could compare to what I’ll be treated to from where I’m standing right this moment.
There’s a novelty to it that only adds to my excitement. I’ve never watched a woman like this before, never had the challenge of hunting one down. That feeling of the chase, the hunt, has already elevated this beyond any experience I’ve had before.
I signed the lease two days ago, the same day she returned to Manhattan from Boston. The broker was thrilled—six months paid upfront in cash, no questions asked, no negotiation on price. I could have bought the entire building if I wanted to. But the penthouse is all I need. Now, I can watch her whenever I want. I can plan.
And, when I’m ready, I’ll make my move.
Once the lease was signed, I reluctantly went back to Boston to get what I’d need for an extended stay in Manhattan. It’s late on Sunday night when I arrive back, and much to my disappointment, I see that her apartment is dark and the curtains to her room closed.
That’s fine,I tell myself, sipping vodka as I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. There’s plenty of time for me to enjoy watching her.
This is madness, I know. I’m apakhanwith an empire to run, enemies to eliminate, and territory to protect. But I can’t help myself.
I’m up early in the morning, before five, brewing myself a cup of black coffee as I go to the window opposite her apartment. And there, for the first time, I’m treated to my first view of her from my new vantage point.
The curtains remain closed for a brief while longer, before I see them thrown open and Mara is standing there. She’s wearing tight athletic pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt, her black hair up in a high ponytail. I watch her move around her room, my eyes glued to her slender curves as I watch her gather some things that I’m too far away to see clearly, and then a high-vis windbreaker from the back of a chair. Almost as quickly as she appeared, she’s gone, but then I see her a moment later exiting her building. She looks like she’s going for a run.
To where?
Tomorrow, I tell myself, I’ll be ready to follow her and see what her routine is. I’m able to see her long enough to watch her go into the coffee shop located in the first floor of her building, and then she emerges again, only to disappear around the corner.
