Instead, I wait long enough for them to go to their own table, before walking in and surveying the dining room quickly before requesting an empty table on the opposite side of the restaurant. I slip the hostess a hundred-dollar bill, and she’s happy enough to sit me wherever I want to be.
I watch the dinner unfold with a growing irritation. The man is clearly into her, and I want to take him to some deserted placeand carve out his eyeballs for having the temerity to look at her with the desire that I clearly see there. But what I see from her calms me, at least a little.
She’s not interested. He checks what I imagine most women’s boxes would be—he’s classically handsome, tall, clearly wealthy from his clothing—but there’s no spark in Mara’s eyes as she looks at him. No desire written on her face. What I saw when she looked at me is entirely absent from her expression throughout the entirety of the dinner.
But when he walks her out and attempts to kiss her, getting her cheek in return, I can’t help myself.
I follow him as he walks away from the restaurant. He walks all the way to a nearby parking garage, where he approaches a black Mercedes. There’s no one else around, but I pull my cap down low over my eyes in case of security cameras. There’s no one in the NYPD or anywhere else with enough money or influence to keep me from paying them off if I were to get into trouble, but I want to keep a low profile here. Besides, I imagine that Sergei has a decent number of the NYPD in his pocket, and I’d rather not clash with him—or make him aware that I’m here. If I’m lucky, he’ll never realize that I’ve strayed onto his turf.
Even though I’m not really here to do business, anotherpakhanin his territory would raise his hackles. And understandably so. I have no intention of causing trouble with him.
I slip a knife from my pocket, palming it as I follow Mara’s date to his car. Just as he reaches the taillights, I take two quick steps forward, pressing the point of the blade against his back.
“Don’t turn around,” I growl, keeping my voice low and affecting as much of an American accent as I can manage, erasing the Russian from my voice. “Or we’ll find out if seven inches of serrated steel can cut through your fancy fucking peacoat.”
To his credit, he obeys, and he doesn’t shrink. “If you want money, my wallet is in the left pocket,” he says calmly. “There’s three hundred in cash in there. You can have it.”
I snort. “I don’t need money.”
“Then what is it?” He doesn’t turn around. Whatever his profession, he seems almost to have expected this.Cop, maybe? Detective?I wince. I don’t want to cross the law this early, even if I can buy them. It causes trouble I don’t need right now.
“I want you to stay away from Mara Winslow.”
He chuckles grimly. “No problem there. She wasn’t interested. But who the fuck are you to say?—”
He almost starts to turn then, and I press the knife harder against his spine. “Don’t worry about who the fuck I am. Don’t call her. Don’t text her. Don’t fucking think about her. Don’t go home and jerk off wishing she’d come back with you. If I so much as have an inkling that her name has passed through your brain again, I’ll find you and cut your eyes out of your head before I feed you your fucking balls.”
The man has gone very still. “Fine,” he says finally. “But whoever you are, she’s not going to like hearing about?—”
I push the knife in, hard enough to tear fabric and elicit a grunt from him. “You don’t say a fucking word about this. She hears about this, and the consequences are the same. As far as you’re concerned, you went home and this never happened.”
His jaw tightens. “Who the fuck do you think you are?—”
The knife presses harder. “Someone with the power to make you disappear. Your body would never be fucking found. Don’t test me. This never happened, and you never fuckingthinkabout her again.”
“Fine,” he growls again. “Like I said, she wasn’t fucking interested anyway.”
“Good.” I take a step back. “Get in your car. Don’t look back or leave for five minutes. You turn around, you move this car an inch, you’re fucking dead.”
Once again, he’s good at following instructions. He gets into the car without looking back, and sits still in the driver’s seat, unmoving as I shove the knife into my pocket and quickly head out of the parking garage.
My blood is buzzing by the time I’m back out on the street and hailing a cab. That was far,farfrom the most violent thing I’ve ever done, but the circumstances of it have me feeling almost high.She’s mine. Mine, and he won’t so much as think about her again, let alone dare to kiss her fucking cheek.
When I get back to the penthouse, Mara’s curtains are drawn. I feel a thrum of disappointment, but not enough to dim the thrill of what just happened too much. I pour myself a vodka, ignore my erection for the third night, and go to bed.
—
The next day,her routine is the same, except after work I follow her to a bar where I see her having drinks with another man. This one is more familiar with her, but all he does is touch her hand, and I can see the same disinterest in her eyes. I’ve half a mind to follow him and cut off a finger for touching her, but when I realize he’s going to the same gallery opening that she is, it’s clear there won’t be much of an opportunity.
It’s not possible to follow her to the gallery opening without blowing my cover, so instead I head back to the penthouse. When she returns, she looks exhausted, even from this distance. I watch her undress for bed, aching and hoping for her to finally give me the show I’m becoming more and more desperate for,but she just closes the curtains, shrouding her apartment in darkness.
I pour myself a drink and flop onto the couch, groaning as I reach down to massage my aching balls. It’s been four days of near-constant arousal. I’ve never denied myself like this before. But I need the sense of control. With every day, I feel more and more desperate for her, morehungry.
“Fuck.” I groan aloud, rubbing the flat of my palm down my rigid shaft. It would feel so good to pull it out, wrap my hand around it, and give myself the release I so desperately crave. But I have to wait.
I have to follow my rules, or else I’ll lose control completely.
And then everything else will spiral out of control, too.
