By 4 p.m., I'm standing outside her law firm, leaning against the car with a bouquet of yellow flowers in hand. The driver sits inside with the engine running. I'm in a long fur coat, on my hands are black gloves keeping my hands warm against the October chill.
I must look ridiculous, some lovesick fool waiting for a woman who'll probably tell me to fuck off the second she sees me. And then she steps out of the building. My heart stutters, and a smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. She walks out in fitted black dress pants and a crisp white shirt tucked tight to her frame. Her heels tap against the pavement, her hair is pulled back with a few rebellious strands slipping free. She looks professional, mine, and painfully gorgeous.
She notices me instantly. Her stride loses its confidence, and those sharp eyes narrow like she's ready to file a complaint just for me breathing near her firm.
"Mr. Ivanovich," she says, a slight irritation in her tone. "What are you doing here?"
I hold out the flowers. "For you, my love."
She stares at them like I've just offered her a live snake. "Yellow flowers this time. How thoughtful."
"You said red soured your mood," I remind her. "I remembered, and got you your preferred flowers, aren't I a good boy?"
She takes them, reluctantly, holding the bouquet at arm's length. "Is there a reason you're stalking me outside my workplace, or are you just committed to being a nuisance?" I straighten, gesturing to the car. "Please get in the car. I need to talk to you."
Her eyes flash. "We don't have any more business, Mr. Ivanovich. And my car's in the garage. I'm not leaving my baby here."
"Oh, so the car gets to be called baby, but I still get Mr. Ivanovich?"
She smirks. "Yeah. Basically."
I step closer, lowering my voice. "Will you please get into the car and grace me with your beautiful presence?"
She tilts her head, considering. Then, with a sigh, she opens the door. "Fine. But make it quick." She slides into the back seat. I follow, settling beside her. The door shuts, and my driver pulls away from the curb without a word.
The space between us feels charged. I can smell her perfume, and all my senses dull. "How are you doing?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.
"I'm fine," she says curtly, setting the flowers on the seat between us like a barrier.
"And how's your new car treating you? I hope it's not giving you any issues."
"No issues at all," she says with a shrug. "She's perfect. I would've been driving her right now if you hadn't decided to ambush me outside my office."
I smile. "Forgive me. I have something to discuss. A business deal I need help with."
She turns to me, narrowing her eyes. "I don't do mafia work, Ilay."
"I'll pay you. Very well."
"I said I don't work for the underworld."
"You wouldn't be working for it. You'd be helping someone... near it." I offer a small smile. "Think of it as saving me from myself." She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she stares out the window, watching the city blur past. "I'll think about it," she finally says.
I reach over, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger against her skin, and I feel her breath hitch. Then I lean in and kiss her cheek gently. Softly. I want more, but I can feel her pulse racing under my fingertips. I have to pace myself. When I pull back, she's staring at me, with parted lips and wide eyes. By the time she looks away, we're already parked in front of her building.
She blinks, confused. "When did we...?"
I smile. "You should give me a call when you've thought about it." She grabs the flowers and steps out without another word.
I watch her walk into her building, and every instinct screams at me to follow her, but I stay put. She already thinks of me as a creep. I don't need to prove her right. I’ll be a good boy till I get the green light. But I don't know how long my civility can last with how much I want her.
• • •
Two days pass. Two long, excruciating days. I keep checking my phone like a junkie waiting for his dealer. And then, finally, my phone rings. Her name lights up my screen, and I don't even let it finish the first ring. "Angel," I murmur, "How are you?"
"Don't start," she snaps. God, even her irritation turns me on.
"I'll take up your case," she says flatly. "But nothing that has to do with murder, killing, or any of that nonsense. Let it be within the bounds of sanity."
