Looking in my eyes, Gram reached up to place both hands on my shoulders. “There’s more to you than others know.” I’d like to believe her, though there was no proof of it.
“I’m not getting married, Gram. Just so you know.” I leaned down so she could give me a kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll see about that.” She kissed, then patted me on the cheek, content in her own superior wisdom.
In the back of a chauffeured car, I clicked on my phone and opened up the e-file I’d been waiting for from Nelson’s office. Anika Ivanov. She’d grown up in Wallingford Falls, NY, a town of 6,000 about an hour and a half north of the city. Her parents were Russian immigrants, an engineer and a seamstress, no known mafia ties. She’d transferred from community college to SUNY New Paltz where she’d gotten her BA in music, then did her Master’s in Library and Information Studies at Queens College. She was 24, had been working at the branch library in SoHo for eight months, taught piano to ten families in Manhattan, and lived with two roommates in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. Limited social media presence, no criminal record. Perfect.
I called Joel. “I’ve got it figured out. A librarian here in New York. She’s 24 and teaches piano. Clean background check.”
I could practically feel the relieved drop in his blood pressure through the phone. “Goddamn, Ash. Where did you find her?”
“Long story.”
“I’ll talk to Nelson and send over an NDA. When can you get her to sign?”
“Tonight.”
“That’s my boy. I’ll tell Lola.”
Phone back in my pocket, I looked out at the city streets, dark at five thirty though still bright with lights. Tonight, Anika. I had a sudden image of her bound, naked, twisting beneath me on the bed. Her pale skin against the dark sheets, her nipples hard and aching under my fingers. A blindfold across those lovely eyes, those lush pink lips open, calling out my name as I slipped a finger down into her dripping wet pussy.
But first I needed to get the non-disclosure agreement signed. I had to lock that down, get the business end of things tied up. Then, I could tie her up. She’d be mine for the month. This would be a fun month. She’d have to spend all kinds of time with me, every minute, really. Then the month would be over and I’d be off and onto the next stop on the Ash Black train ride. But until then, I’d have plenty of time to undo the laces on that Victorian bodice of hers. I could seduce her sweetness into complete submission.
CHAPTER 6
Ana
“OK, what do you think?” I emerged from my bedroom to show my two eagerly-awaiting roommates my outfit.
“No!” they chorused as one.
“Really?” I looked down. I thought I’d chosen pretty well for my date with Ash Black. A deep scarlet top with a wide scoop neck that draped well and a short sparkly black skirt I’d just bought for a holiday party paired with long, heeled boots. I wanted to look good without looking like I’d spent all day trying to look good. Casual but not overalls-causal. Slightly sexy without throwing myself at him. Didn’t it work?
“First of all, you’re going to be cold,” Jillian began. “Want to borrow my turtleneck sweater?”
“This is Ash Black you’re meeting.” Liv sat perched on a stool next to our kitchen counter, the only eating space we had in our apartment. Room for tables and chairs was a luxury I couldn’t afford in New York City.
“I didn’t even think you liked Ash Black?”
“I don’t. He manufactures sellout corporate rock.” Liv preferred German indie punk bands, the kind of soundtrack that would work well in the apocalypse. “But you look like a librarian.”
“I do?” I looked down at myself again. My fitted skirt hit mid-thigh and the heels on my boots were at least three inches tall. I felt like I was kind of pushing the envelope.
“Here’s what you do.” Liv slipped off the stool to demonstrate. “Big coat.” She brought her hands to the front as if clasping two sides of a jacket. “Nothing underneath but a lacy bra, panties and my stiletto thigh-highs. You get to the bar and…” She gave me a wink as she opened her pretend coat.
“I don’t know about public nudity.”
“Oh, get over it.”
“That is a really bad idea.” Jillian held up her finger in admonishment.
Perfect, I realized. I’d chosen the perfect outfit since they both hated it. Crazy, off-her-rocker Liv thought it was too boring while conservative, worrywart Jillian thought it wasn’t sensible enough. Jackpot.
“OK, you guys. I’m heading out.” I wound a scarf around my neck for Jillian.
“At least let me get some eye pencil on you,” Liv asked.
“Go light,” I warned her, standing under the best—also the only—bright, overhead light in our apartment.
She was on me in a second, tilting back my head. “Look up.”
“Think Kate Middleton, not Cleopatra.”
“Boring.” Liv shook her head, but followed instructions.
“Tell him he should be ashamed of himself for what he did to Mandy Monroe.” Jillian handed me my purse.
“OK, I’ll start with that,” I teased her.
“Tell him he’s a corporate brand. He’s not making music. He’s making money.” Liv always sounded so angry.
“OK, thanks! Wish me luck!”
“Good luck!” they called after me as I walked out the front door and then down three flights of stairs. I didn’t know how the winds of fate had paired me with these roommates, but I thanked them. Liv and Jillian were pure entertainment.
The wind whipped, but my coat, scarf and excitement kept me warm. All the way on the subway, I kept smiling and nearly wanting to pinch myself. Ash Black. He could have any woman he wanted, and he’d asked me to join him tonight! It seemed impossible, and who knew, maybe when I’d get to that hotel he wouldn’t even be there. It might have all been a dr
eam.
But maybe not. Maybe he’d be waiting for me and we’d have a lovely time together. Crazier things happened, right? This was exactly the type of adventure I’d hoped I’d find when I moved to the city. My favorite rock star stumbling into the library where I worked and somehow seeming to become instantly smitten with me. Even as I thought of it, it seemed impossible.
But off at the Spring Street stop and down a couple of blocks I strode into the entrance of the Soho Grand Hotel, found my way to the bar and there he was, Ash Black. Sitting at the bar talking with the bartender. The soft lighting and old world grandeur of the surroundings made him look straight out of a movie set. But he was so gorgeous he probably made everything look like a movie, that sweep of dark hair, his strong jaw and that flash of white teeth as he smiled. He turned as I walked in and when he saw me a slow, sexy smile crept across his handsome face. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the room.
“You came.” He stood up to greet me, wrapping his arms around me as if no sight could please him more. The kiss he gave me on my cheek met all the technical qualifications of casual, but it instantly set my blood to simmer, the feel of his full lips against my skin.
“Hi.” I gave him a shy smile, all the exhilaration I’d felt bubbling up inside of me on the way over melting into nervousness at the sight of him. He looked so cool, so sexy, his black boots with just the right amount of scuff, a thick leather bracelet on his wrist, a tattoo on his thumb.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I can get you something off the menu. They have amazing raw oysters.”
“Oh, no thanks.” I’d grabbed a hot pretzel from a cart before I’d run into the subway after my last piano lesson of the night. It wasn’t much, but tonight it was all I could stomach. Too many butterflies fighting for the space.
“How about a cocktail?”
“Sure.”
“Do you have a favorite, or…?” He looked at me, so solicitous and expectant, and possibly even hotter than he had looked that afternoon. He’d obviously shaved, though I liked him with stubble as well. His black collared shirt was open a couple of buttons and I could see a few thin, braided leather necklaces around his neck, then the lick of a tattoo at the side. Yes, please.