Page 22 of Corrupted Innocence

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“Never mind. I see what I want,” he tells Joey and heat blasts across my cheeks. Forget the somewhat cheesiness of his comment, it’s his look—his starvingbeast eyes his preylook—that has me wanting to turn the AC down.

He’s a damn mob boss. I need to remind myself of that. He may look all professional in his tailored suit, but he’s not just a businessman that buys real estate like most people buy new underwear. No. He’s the son of a well-known ruthless Russian mafia czar. Just because the police haven’t been able to get their cuffs on anyone in their family doesn’t mean anything. And just because Nikolai looks like an office stiff doesn’t mean he can’t break my neck with one squeeze of his hand.

And yet. When he flashes that damn look of his at me, my body reacts without a second thought.

“Joey, Silvia wants to talk to you about the schedule.” I wave him away from the register. Silvia looks at Nikolai then turns to look at me over her shoulder. I shake my head. I’m not sure what sort of introduction I’m supposed to give between them.

Silvia, Joey, this is Nikolai. He’s bought me—yes, you heard that right, he’s bought me for a month so that he won’t have to break every bone in Oliver’s body.

“You didn’t answer my texts.” Nikolai slips his hands into his pockets. Silvia and Joey walk off into the kitchen and Sandra, one of the part timers, is sweeping up around the tables.

“I’m working.”

His eyes narrow. “You left work and didn’t let Viktor drive you.”

I sigh. “I didn’t need an escort to the doctor’s office.”

“I don’t think you understand the way this game is played.” He tilts his head to the right; his dark eyes roam over my body. “Have you packed yet?”

Seriously?

“I’m working,” I say again, harder this time. “Can’t you wait until after I’m done to be… well, you?”

He makes a point of checking his watch that’s wrapped around his left wrist. “It’s almost six. I’d say your day’s over.”

“We don’t close until nine tonight. It’s Friday.”

“I’m sure your staff can handle it from here.” He glances at the kitchen door. “Why didn’t you introduce me?”

I laugh. It’s immediate and hard. I mean, what kind of crazy question is that?

“And say what exactly?”

“The truth.” He leans over the counter. “I don’t like liars.”

I eye him for a moment, trying to gauge his tone. Is he trying to tease me? I mean, in his line of work, doesn’t everyone lie? How can he possibly know who to trust, or who is ready to slit his throat?

“Let’s just leave them out of this.” I’m not ready for that conversation.

His eyes are like dark chocolate, and the longer I stare at them, the more I melt into them. Not a great start for the evening. He isn’t the sort of man a girl should trust her heart to, not that he’s asked for my heart. In fact, he’s been pretty clear which parts of me he wants, and my heart isn’t one of them.

“Did you pack your things?” he asks again after an obscenely pregnant moment passes.

“I didn’t have a chance. Are you sure I really need to? I mean, I do have a car. I can drive over to your place when you need me—” My mind blanks after that. I’m really turning into a natural call girl for him, aren’t I? Just send a message and I’ll scoot my ass clear across the city for whatever needs you have of me that night.

“When I need you for what?” he asks with a twitch of his lips. I think he likes making me uncomfortable.

“Charlie, Mark’s here.” Silvia blows through the door with Mark on her heels.

“Just picking up the stuff for the pantry,” Mark says, coming to a full stop when he sees me.

It takes more strength than I would have thought to break my eye contact with Nikolai and turn to him.

“I think Joey made the sandwiches in the back.” Information finally loads in my brain. Mark has been volunteering at the local food pantry since he retired from the police force twenty years ago.

“You donate sandwiches?” Nikolai asks, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” I say, glancing back at him. “As much as we can; this week we’re only able to do a hundred six-inch subs.” We might have been able to do more, but the bread we had looked ready to turn by morning and I didn’t trust it.


Tags: Measha Stone Crime