So Much More

by Cristiane Serruya

  Fire flared in her veins. Shot straight to her sex. Hannah snapped, “Not that!”

  It took all of Markus’s willpower not to grab her and kiss her senseless. Who does she think she is fooling? The woman was seriously attracted to him. Admittedly he’d been teasing her during the last few days, but if she hadn’t been interested, she wouldn’t have been ogling him like she was a sugar addict and he was crème brûlée.

  “That what?” he asked innocently.

  As if you don’t know. She huffed. “I just wanted to discuss a few things with you.”

  “Is it so very important?” He began anew to throb in hopeful anticipation, pointless though it was.

  Is it? She didn’t even have one of the few things in her mind right now if he had asked. “Well…no, I guess not.”

  He looked back at the stack of documents needing his attention. He needed to finish them for Monday morning and he doubted his partners would take any excuse short of him being severely sick. Does a serious case of blue balls count?

  Since the blue balls would still be happening, he decided it was better to stick with work. “Give me an hour or—”

  “Are you aware that you are a workaholic?” She came to stand by his side.

  “Well aware.”

  “Why don’t you give yourself a break? It’s not like you need more money.” She twisted her hair in her fingers. He was looking at her with a smile that said he found it funny her wishing him to take a break. Rather, he was watching her with those dark eyes. Eyes that searched her very deepest, darkest thoughts.

  “Because I don’t need a break right now.”

  “Are you aware you have been closeted with those papers since Friday afternoon?” And that it’s almost Saturday night?

  “I am well aware of that, too.” He heaved a resigned sigh and leaned back in the chair, resting his head on his laced hands. “I like my work, Hannah. That’s why I do it. The money is second to my motivation, and it just came as a lucky afterthought. Is that all?” Or do you have other ideas?

  “Haskell & Sons?” She pulled an envelope, which was peaking from under one of the files. “Are you buying it?”

  “Already did. Why?”

  “Nothing, really.” She shrugged. “I used to babysit the money-grubber’s daughter.”

  “Haskell doesn’t have kids, Hannah. He is already seventy and the last son alive.”

  “The other owner, Mr. Muller.”

  “Jacob Muller? He was the company’s CEO, not the owner,” he said. “Did you work for him long?”

  “For two years, or so. Odd. I had the distinct impression he was the owner. He was always receiving partners and associates at his apartment,” she explained. “Talking about receiving merchandise, repackaging and distributing…you know…”

  No, I don’t. “What else?”

  “He talked about selling the company to them. And I was sure Mr. Aquila was going to buy it…”

  “And who is this Mr. Aquila?” he frowned.

  “Well,”—There, Hannah. You have gone and put yourself in a tight place.—“Luciano Aquila. He is the owner of The Eagle Nest.”

  The Eagle Nest… The name resounded some place in his mind but he couldn’t recall exactly where he had heard about it. “And you know that because?”

  “Nevermind. I probably got the wrong impression from things I overheard. Forget I said anything.”

  Markus noticed the distinct change in her demeanor. She’d suddenly gone cold and aloof. What is she hiding? “Hannah. You won’t have me believing you’re stupid.”

  She sighed. “It’s…complicated.”

  If he was annoyed by her short response, he didn’t show it. “Why is it complicated?”

  She thought about the question. Why is it complicated? Her mother had loved her and she had loved her mother. There was nothing complicated there. Just struggling daily life.

  “Hannah?”

  She felt Markus’s eyes on her as she gazed up at the sky, because if she stared at him she would not be able to push the words out of her chest. “Luciano Aquila is Mr. Muller’s associate. Or so I thought. He is also…”

  “Yes?”

  “A New York mafia lord. I owe him a quarter of a million dollars.” Plus the monthly interest.

  He shot out of his chair. “What?”

  She sighed and looked at him. “With mounting bills and the risk of my mother being expelled from the hospital in the middle of her cancer treatment, I asked for a loan.”

  He moved to the bar, needing a drink. Or three. Reaching up for a bottle of Bowmore single malt whisky, he concentrated on pouring himself a drink.

  “My mother didn’t have health insurance. After we sold our small apartment, there wasn’t much left. What I earned as—”

  “Here.” He put a glass in her hand. After an overly large gulp of his own, he exhaled. “Let’s sit. I want the whole story.”

  CHAPTER 21

  He took a sip of his whisky and contemplated the woman sitting by his side. After hearing about her struggles for more than three years with a sick mother, he understood far more about her: her courage and indomitable spirit and the depth of her love, loyalty, and loneliness. And that only seemed to intensify the burning coils winding up inside him since she began to tell her tale.

  He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to ask for that loan. And then spare every dollar she could—and then some she shouldn’t to the point of putting her own health at risk—to pay it. Just to know it had been useless because it would start all over again the following month.

  “Did you ever realize you were to be his slave, paying interest for the rest of your life?” he snapped. “That this kind of man is dangerous? A broken arm and a few bruises were nothing compared to what he could do to you!”

  Markus had always been a man of extremes: either he felt nothing, or too strongly. Right now, that willowy redhead was making him experience a sudden surge of restlessness, an urge to go do something. Although what, he had no idea and that bewildered him. He rose and poured more whisky in his glass.

  “I couldn’t possibly let my mother be expelled from the hospital.” She held his gaze squarely. “I…I should have told you from the start. I understand if you wish to rescind our agreement.”

  Rescind? He closed his eyes and wrestled with his temper.

  One, two, three.

  Things used to be black and white: he was in need of a wife to get Victoria back; she was the one who volunteered with a supposedly clean past.

  Four, five, six.

  He’d thought possessing her physically would kill the emotional connection he had felt to her almost since the beginning. That’s how it usually worked with him.

  Seven, eight, nine.

  Instead, their night together had only solidified it. And during those days with her, he’d felt the same disconnection in her that existed in himself and sensed that somehow their loneliness merged. Loneliness created from such different experiences.

  He had never wanted to possess someone so completely. Body and soul.

  Ten.

  Even with all his difficulties in dealing with his emotions, being a man of uncommon intelligence, Markus did not require months, weeks, or even days to work out the answer. He had fallen for her.

  Fuck it.

  He picked up his cell phone and called his lawyer. “Jones. I need you on Monday, nine o’clock in the morning in my office.”

  Hannah didn’t know what to make of the man standing in front of her. He looked like Markus, and he spoke like Markus. But a darkness hovered about him. It was as though his shadow had come to life and was haunting him.

  “Markus?”

  “Tell me how to find this Aquila.”

  The Eagle Nest

  7:00 p.m.

  “Ah, Senator Blackthorn, welcome, welcome.” Luciano waved to an armchair. “What can I do for you?”

  “I am here to pay the debt of Hannah Kristensen,” Elijah said, and snapped his fingers at Jacks
on, his assistant, who unlocked the briefcase he was carrying and turned it around for Luciano to look inside.

  “It’s all there,” the older man assured him. “Plus this month’s interest.”

  “Julio!” One of the men stationed around the room hurried forward and bowed low. Luciano waved a hand at the briefcase, not even bothering to count the money. “Ms. Kristensen owes us no more.”

  “Appreciate it.” Elijah nodded.

  “And this matters to you because…”

  “I want the bitch off my son’s back.”

  Luciano narrowed his eyes at the old man. He chose a cigar from the humidor box and offered Elijah the box. After the cigars were lit, Luciano said amid a cloud of smoke, “Let’s discuss business.”

  Thirty minutes later, they were shaking hands and Luciano was walking Elijah through the club. When they passed through a more excited group, he said, “Senator, you and your assistant are my guests if you wish to indulge…”

  “I’m a married man and a Catholic, Mr. Aquila.” Elijah stiffened and hurried his pace to the exit.

  Jackson shook his head silently when Luciano glanced at him and followed the senator.

  At the door, Elijah shook Luciano’s hand and said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me until you find out how it ends. Sometimes the thing we want most ends up being our undoing.” Luciano’s lips curled at that. “I’ll be awaiting your son’s call. He’ll take my proposal into consideration.”

  When he returned to his office, Luciano ordered, “Armando, suspend the Velid operation for now.”

  “And Muller?”

  “He needs to learn the error of his ways.” Luciano shrugged. “A few minutes with a bat could be very educational for him.”

  Senator Blackthorn’s apartment

  8:00 p.m.

  Elijah was still smiling inside, relieved that he would soon be free of the problems he anticipated from Hannah. Although he was the one who proposed this scheme, he suspected that Hannah would try to take advantage of it by making his son fall in love with her so she could get at his money.

  The thought of a commoner going after family money like that was intolerable.

  He was not going to fool himself into thinking that trying to take Hannah out of the equation of his son’s life was something done out of pure fatherly love. Yes, he loved his son to distraction.

  But what did he want most?

  That was easy. Respect, an immaculate image, and a perfect, happy family.

  He had not spent his whole life chasing it through power and money, to have an impertinent, low-class girl turning his own son against him.

  Markus Blackthorn’s penthouse

  10:00 p.m.

  “What does she want now?” Markus mumbled when his ex-wife’s name flashed on his display. “Tell me, Nicola.”

  “Good evening to you, too, Markus,” Nicola answered in a sweetened voice.

  Patience, Markus. “Good evening.”

  “See, it isn’t too hard to be civil, is it?”

  One, two, three. “No.” Four, five—

  “My therapist always—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about what your therapist says,” he cut her off. “Say what you want or put Victoria on the line. Or is she sleeping? No, perhaps she is in the shower.”

  “Shower?” she repeated the word stupidly, then whined, “Markus, the boiler has broken again. I need money to fix it. Tomorrow. Your daughter doesn’t like cold showers.”

  Fix a broken boiler on Sunday? “All right. Why don’t you bring Victoria here while you get it fixed?”

  “Oh, but I am not supposed to—”

  “And I am not supposed to pay for your broken boiler.” Don’t make her mad, Markus. He sighed. “How much should I transfer to your account this time?”

  “Ten grand. Cash.”

  The judge’s decision on supervised parenting had already cost him a tremendous amount of money poured into Nicola’s account. And it was going to cost him more unless he settled it in another way. Until then, he didn’t care. Victoria is worth much more than this—so much more. Markus closed his eyes tightly and began counting. “You bring her here tomorrow morning, at nine. She stays until Monday, after dinner. Deal?”

  “Deal. Send Donovan down with the money.”

  He hung up and turned to Hannah with a grin on his face, and a warmth in his dark eyes she had never seen before. “Victoria is coming over.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sunday, October 12, 2014

  9:30 a.m.

  “Daddy!” Victoria, a beautiful girl, with abundant dark-hair and a face that Hannah could bet was all Markus’s when he was a kid, squealed and skidded into the hall with her arms opened.

  “Hey, you.” Markus’s face opened in a huge smile as he picked up the girl in his arms, burying his face in her dark hair and hugging her to him. I missed you, little one. “How is my princess?”

  Victoria threw her arms around his neck. “Mom said you’ve been too busy to come see me. I missed you, Daddy.”

  What? Bitch. Anger rushed through his veins at Nicola’s sordidness. “Daddy was not—”

  As Markus’s whole body tensed, Hannah, who had been quietly waiting for him to introduce her to his daughter, put a hand on his arm and cut in, “Your father was not exactly busy, Victoria. He was sick.”

  “Yes, I was sick for a few days,” Markus lied, grateful for Hannah’s intervention.

  But Victoria was not interested in whatever the reason was. Her face closed and she leaned back to look into her father’s face. “Who is she?”

  “Hannah is a dear friend of mine and I hope she will be yours, too.” Markus pulled Hannah to his side and affectionately passed an arm around her shoulders. “Hannah, meet my princess, Victoria.”

  “Hello, Victoria.” Hannah smiled at the girl but only received a glare of her chocolate eyes as an answer.

  She expected the negative reaction. Hannah had told Markus it would be best if he spent a few hours alone with his daughter first, and tell her about Hannah being there. Then later, after getting used to the idea that someone was there, perhaps after lunch, she could appear and be introduced. But he had insisted on her being at his side when Victoria arrived.

  She disengaged herself from under his arm but he latched on to her hand. “Markus—”

  The last thing he wanted to do was admonish his daughter, especially in front of a person she didn’t know, but he could not let her have her way just because he hadn’t seen her in almost two weeks. “Victoria, princess, I didn’t hear your answer.”

  A pout formed on Victoria’s lips.

  With an inward sigh, he said in a stern tone, “Victoria, manners.”

  If the girl wasn’t so unsettled, Hannah would have laughed at the very adult way Markus talked to her.

  Reluctantly, Victoria mumbled, “Hi.”

  Trying to dissipate the awkward tension, Hannah proposed, “Markus, why don’t you show Victoria the surprise?”

  The blank stare Markus gave her was comical but the tilt of Victoria’s dark head in her direction told Hannah she had the child’s full attention.

  “Your father has been planning something very special for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, since it’s a surprise we can’t tell you.” Markus put his daughter on the floor when all he wanted was to wrap his arms around her until he tired. Almost two weeks without seeing her seemed an eternity. “You’ll have to close your eyes.” I think. “Won’t she, Hannah?”

  “Sure.” Amused at his loss, she jutted her chin in the direction of the piano. “Come on, Victoria. Give me your hand.”

  To that she received a suspicious glance from Victoria, but she shyly stretched out her hand.

  Taking the smaller hand in hers, Hannah grinned and promised, “We are going to have so much fun today.”

  3:45 p.m.

  Hannah had a light smile on her lips when she exited the shower stall.

 
; Victoria had made Markus play Liszt’s Hungarian about a dozen times while she jumped around him as if she was Jerry.

  The girl had warmed to her quickly and after lunch, Victoria invited her to play with dolls and a teddy bear in her room.

  The whole ritual was intimate and normal. Rather endearing, as well.

  It was all so utterly domestic. Bizarrely domestic. Hopefully domestic. Everything Hannah craved in her life.

  Everything she would be walking away from in one-year’s time if she continued to hold him at bay.

  As she pretended to drink tea and eat biscuits with Victoria, Markus, and a teddy bear that was bigger than Markus, perched on a pink wooden chair, Hannah realized she was a fool to resist this insane desire between them, that she was cheapening a powerful and true attraction as being nothing more than paid sex.

  When Victoria yawned, Markus put her in bed and cuddled with her.

  It amazed Hannah how very gentle Markus was with his daughter. A seeming contradiction, given the fact that he was such a giant of a man. It didn’t seem possible that someone his size and temperament could be so gentle, tender, and soft.

  He was fierce and temperamental and so passionate he nearly set the air on fire with the force of his emotions—when he allowed them to float to the surface. He was dominating, but he was no bully. While he had more than his fair share of male arrogance, there was an inner vulnerability to him that touched her in places she didn’t know could be touched. She ought not to let that sign of vulnerability affect her; she ought not to let him touch her heart so easily.

  When she tiptoed out of the room, he was singing softly to his daughter.

  And the lullaby melted whatever reservations Hannah had left about him.

  CHAPTER 23

  7:00 p.m.

  “Out of my way, you dolt.”

  Markus’s gaze shifted from his laptop screen toward his office door, and whispered, “For fuck’s sake, what is she doing here?”

  Hannah raised her head to see a mix of disbelief and disgust clouding Markus’s face. The twitching of his jaw told her whomever had arrived was not good news. “Who is it?”