“I learned that you’ve worked at your family’s restaurant since you were fifteen, and after high school—which you graduated with high honors—you skipped college and went to work full-time. After your mother passed away, you moved into the apartment over the restaurant and after your father passed, you took on the full responsibility of the deli.”
“That’s all you learned?” I scoff.
“Well, there is the three boyfriends you’ve had since graduation. Bill, who is now a top executive at a very small tech company. Stephen, who is a humanities teacher at a prep school up north. And there’s Jacob, who is now driving one of those double decker tour buses around the city and lives in a basement apartment of a building his father owns.”
Okay, I’m a little more impressed now.
“You looked up old boyfriends? Why?” I tilt my head, curious as why he would bother with them. “Were you afraid I was a loose woman, which would be a logical assumption considering what I offered you, and you were concerned about what sort of diseases I might bring to your bed?”
His expression darkens.
“I wanted to be certain there wouldn’t be anyone I needed to take care of if he came around trying to be your hero.” That was not the answer I was expecting.
“Ah, and that leads me to the part of your life that I couldn’t find on the internet. Other than a few mentions of your father. The man’s pretty slippery according to the papers.” I fold my arms over my chest, unsure how honest he’s willing to be with me.
“My family has very good lawyers.” He shrugs.
“And would your lawyers have helped you if one of my exes showed up floating in Turtle Pond down there?” I ask, gesturing toward the window.
He laughs, a dark sound that seems completely natural for him. “They wouldn’t have been found.”
Another answer I wasn’t expecting.
“And your brothers?” I had only one brief encounter with Arman; his oldest brother had been busy all night at the party. I only saw him at dinner, and his conversation was geared more to their father. He left shortly after we ate.
“My brothers? They work more closely with my father.” His eyes narrow. “I’m actually the nice one of the family.”
I laugh. A loud boisterous sound, and I cover my mouth as my cheeks flame.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls my hand away.
“Don’t do that. I like the sounds you make. Even when you’re being rude and laughing at me.” His lips are tense, but his eyes are playful.
“I wasn’t laughing at you, I was… well, I don’t know.” It’s hard to think in a straight line with him staring at me with teasing eyes.
He lets go of my wrist. “It’s okay, Charlotte.” He smiles. A genuine smile that makes him look sexy as hell. The breeze from outside has his hair messed up just enough that he looks almost friendly, and then he goes and smiles like that.
I have to look away, then move across the tower to the window on the opposite side. I get a better look of Turtle Pond and the people standing on the observation deck below.
This is Nikolai Romanov with me; no normal man can smile at me like that and make my heart melt. We aren’t on a date. This isn’t a relationship. This is a business transaction.
“Why do you call me Charlotte?” The question pops out before going through the proper filters that would have shut it down.
“That’s your name.” He’s still at the other window, staring at me from behind.
“No one calls me that except you.” I slide my hands into the pockets of the capris he bought me, a little surprised they have real pockets and not just those fake sort that are sewed shut.
“I know.” His footsteps are soft over the stone flooring.
Another tremor moves through me. He has to stop it. He’s doing this on purpose, probably to fuck with me. Because that’s what men like him do, they mess with your head.
“Maybe I don’t like it.” I raise my chin, though he’s still behind me and probably can’t see my little act of defiance.
He makes a small sound, like he’s hiding a chuckle. I think he’s going to say something else, but his phone goes off and he answers it.
“Yeah.” He steps away from me, back to the other side of the tower. I try to concentrate on the view, but I can tell by his tone something isn’t right.
After he ends the call, I turn back to him. “You have a meeting?” I think we have different definitions of what a meeting is, but it’s not really the time to discuss it.