After her shower, Kat pulled on a dress of soft cotton that was comfortable to study in. She took a seat by the desk in the lounge and opened her notes. Normally she itched to work on the new material she’d gathered, but today she battled to stay focused. Her thoughts kept on drifting back to last night and the gift in the kitchen.
Diana stepped from her bedroom, looking fresh and feminine in a yellow sundress and golden sandals. Her camera bag was slung over her shoulder. She was making a name for herself as a freelance photographer specializing in portraits.
“I’m off,” Diana said, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. Sneakily, she added, “Shall I get take-outs for dinner?”
Kat knew what her friend was doing, but she wasn’t taking the bait. “Good idea.”
Shaking her head, Diana said, “Suit yourself, but if I were you I’d already be waxing and exfoliating.”
Both women fell quiet when the doorbell rang. They stared at each other for a surprised moment. Diana got to her senses first, sprinting for the door before Kat had time to push back her chair.
“Don’t you dare get that,” Kat called after her, getting tangled in the feet of the chair as she hurried to follow.
She came to a halt behind Diana who’d flung open the door, revealing a deliveryman carrying a small polystyrene insulation box.
“Delivery for Miss White,” he said.
“Take it back,” Kat said over Diana’s shoulder. This game had gone far enough.
The man opened his mouth to say something, but Diana held out her hand. “Thank you.” Her smile was like syrup. “I’ll take it.”
The man didn’t present a receipt note to be signed. He simply handed over the box and left. Diana kicked the door shut and walked to the lounge where she deposited the box on the coffee table.
“Now I’ll be late for my shoot.” She picked up the note and gave it to Kat. “Hurry up or I’ll get into trouble. My client this morning is a particularly impatient model.”
Kat gave her an exasperated look, but her curiosity was too big not to tear open the envelope and pull out the card. After reading, she handed the gold-trimmed card to Diana.
Diana’s gaze moved over the card as she read. “Wow. Shit. That’s such a lovely poem. Are you going to call him? I thought he never gave out his number, at least not according to the tabloids.”
Kat released the breath she was holding. “Of course I’m not calling him.” She wasn’t going down that road.
“Don’t you want to at least see what it is?”
Kat stared at the box. Who was she kidding? There was no way she wasn’t taking a peek inside. Carefully, she wiggled the lid loose and lifted it. Frosty vapors escaped. Inside, a portion-sized, delicate, blue cake with intricate frosting and sugar flowers sat on a golden plate.
“Holy cow,” Diana said. “Is that ice cream?”
Wow. It was the most beautiful cake Kat had seen. A pleasant glow of appreciation heated her body despite her resignation to remain indifferent.
“He sure as hell isn’t average.” Diana sighed. “Then again, the usual flowers and chocolates are too average for you. I’m envious. Can I call him if you’re not going to?”
Pushing away the fuzzy feeling Lann’s attention ignited, Kat said with renewed determination, “I’m not having dinner with him, and neither are you.”
“Why in the world not?” Diana exclaimed.
“Because it’s not a dinner invitation. It’s an invitation to have my heart broken.”
Diana batted her eyelashes. “I’ll gladly take him up on the offer.”
“You’re beyond saving.” Kat took the cake and made her way to the kitchen. “Go to work,” she called with a smile over her shoulder. “You’re late.”
Alone in the flat with the cake melting in the kitchen sink, Kat pulled her notes closer and tried to focus on what she was going to write. It wasn’t easy with her stomach in a knot and her mind pulling in a different direction.
Finally, she gave up, went to the kitchen, took a spoon, and installed herself at the breakfast nook with the cake. It would be a sin to waste something that obviously took so much effort to create. Dipping the spoon into the soft ice cream, she took a bite. Flavors of blueberry and litchi exploded on her tongue. The creamy ice-frosting balanced the tangy fruit flavors perfectly. She closed her eyes and hummed in ecstasy. It was the most delicious ice cream she’d tasted. The cake was the perfect portion for one person, and in a few minutes she’d cleaned the plate. It didn’t mean Lann Dréan could buy her agreement with ice cream and coffee, she told herself as she went back to her work.
Just as she finally managed to focus on a full sentence, the doorbell rang again. She gave a start, knocking her knee against the table.
Ouch. Damn, that hurt.
For a full ten seconds, she sat very still, and when the buzz wasn’t repeated, she got up quietly and tiptoed to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw no one. After another cautious second, she dared to open the door on a crack. The hallway was empty except for a small box wrapped in blue rice paper and a white card that sat on the doormat.
Sighing, she snatched up the box and card, and shut the door. Adamant to ignore both items, she left them on the table in the entrance and went back to her work, but the box had a magnetic pull that interfered with her concentration.
Ah, darn it.
Curiosity won again. She stomped to the entrance, grabbed the gift, and pulled off the wrapping paper to reveal a silver box. She pushed on the release mechanism to open the lid. The inside was lined in blue silk, and in its folds lay a silver hairclip. She held it up to the light. It was shaped like a butterfly, its wings encrusted with red stones—rubies maybe. It was a piece of art. The craftsmanship stole her breath. Carefully, she replaced the precious object in its box.
From a drawer in the desk, she took a padded envelope on which she scribbled Lann’s address. After sealing the box inside, she called a courier company and paced the lounge until they arrived. When she closed the door on the deliveryman, she blew out a heavy breath. That should do it. Lann would definitely get the message now. Only then did she dare to open the card that had come with the box. This time, there was no poem, only two lines written in Lann’s immaculate handwriting.
I’d give anything to know what it would feel like to tangle my hands in your hair. Name it, and it’s yours.
She bit her nail. She had to admit, the lure was strong. Of course she wanted him. After all, she was only a woman, but she’d worked too hard for what she’d achieved to be distracted. No, that was an excuse. The truth was that she was frightened. Mac had hurt too much. Getting over him was hell. She couldn’t go through that again. What she needed was reliable and stable, not mysterious and dangerous.
She tried to work, but she was on pins and needles until lunchtime, and when nothing happened after she’d washed down a sandwich with some of Lann’s delicious coffee, she relaxed a little. The disappointment that sunk like a stone in her stomach was as undeniable as it was unwelcome, but it was better this way.
No sooner had she installed herself at the desk again than the shrill sound of the doorbell broke the silence. Disbelief filled her first, and then anger. She’d worked so hard at rejecting him. He had no right to make it this difficult.
Not hesitating this time, she rushed to the entrance, determined to tell whoever with whatever in his hands to take it right back where it came from, but when she opened the door, there was another parcel waiting on the step, this time covered in blue cloth and tied with a string, a white card tucked underneath.
She picked it up with shaky hands and carried it to the lounge. By the feel of it, it was a book. She pulled off the string and cloth. She was right. It wasn’t just any book. It was one from his library, a priceless, handwritten copy of tales of Celtic daemons. It had to date back to 1500 or before.
The book belonged in a museum, not in her apartment. She flopped down on the sofa with the book in her lap. For a while, sh
e only sat with her hands on her thighs, her palms sweaty. Slowly coming out of her haze, she reached for the white envelope, bulky this time, and withdrew a card and one, white glove. Puzzled, her gaze went to the familiar handwriting.
18h00 sharp. Come to me.
The undertone of dominance and promised retribution in the message sent a shiver down her spine that wasn’t all unpleasant. Despite the afternoon heat, her skin broke out in goosebumps. This game had to stop. Now. She wasn’t in Santiago to flirt. She was here to study and earn her degree. She had precious little time to do so, and the degree meant everything to her. Her parents had forked out a lot of money to make the year-long exchange possible. She wasn’t going to disappoint them, Charles, and herself.
Excuses, her heart whispered, but she brushed the inner voice aside.
Without giving it another thought, she wrapped the book in the cloth and grabbed her purse. It was a short walk to the nearest metro, and after thirty minutes, changing lines once, she got off near the monastery. She marched the two blocks to its double arched doors, annoyance at Lann’s persistence fuelling her steps. If he hadn’t tried so hard to distract her, she’d be happily working now. She wouldn’t even be thinking about him any longer. Okay, that might be a lie, but the potency of last night’s memory would’ve worn off eventually. By sending her gift after gift, he was making sure she was thinking about him constantly. The fact that those gifts demonstrated how well he’d paid attention last night when she’d told him about herself wasn’t lost on her. It was just another message he was trying to get across.
Besides, despite it all, there was something about Lann she couldn’t put her finger on, something a lot more dangerous than simply being a playboy who’d make mince of her heart.
The doors opened before she could press the button on the intercom. Kat glanced up at the security camera. No doubt, the infuriating Russian or his security guard had seen her coming.
It was Alfonso who welcomed her in the entrance.
“Good afternoon, Miss,” he said, his face expressionless. “You’re early.”
She shot him a cutting look, but the butler didn’t blink an eye when he turned and told her in a formal tone to follow him.
He didn’t take her upstairs to Lann’s office, as she’d expected, but to the library. A sense of dread and anticipation filled her at the thought of the conversation that had ended there the day before, but she pushed it from her mind and focused on her aggravation to give her courage. No was no. Maybe Lann wasn’t used to women saying no to him, but he’d soon learn to accept the exception.
Alfonso opened the door, and when she entered, he closed it softly. For a moment, she thought she was alone, but then she caught a movement to the side, and her heart jerked when she saw him. Could she ever get used to how striking he was? He wore a white dress shirt, the first three buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled up, and tight, black jeans. His loose hair fell around the light table where he was bent over a book. Next to him stood a wooden box with a set of loupes.
When he straightened and lifted his head, her breath caught at the obvious pleasure in his eyes as he spotted her. She hadn’t expected the reaction, and it threw her off balance. He studied her from behind dark-rimmed Prada glasses while his lips curved into a smile. As he flattened his palms on the table, the muscles in his exposed forearms flexed.
“Katherine.”
His accent made her name sound exotic, and he said it as if she was the most important person in his life. For a second, she basked in the illusion, enjoying the sensation of being at the center of Lann’s world, but then a woman’s voice sounded from behind the alcove in the center of the hall.
“Did you call for me, Lann?”
A brunette peered around the arch. It was the pretty librarian.
“Martina, you and Katherine know each other, don’t you?” Lann asked, not moving his gaze from Kat.
“Oh.” Martina seemed surprised. “Hi, Kat.” She waved with a little frown, and then disappeared again.
He rounded the table in his own time and walked to her with leopard-like steps. His strange eyes held hers as he removed his gloves and took her hand.
This time, he pressed his lips to her skin. “I didn’t expect you until six. You have no idea how happy this makes me.”
His words pulled her from her mesmerized state. “I came here to return this,” she said as she thrust the book at him, “and to tell you to stop sending me things. I can’t be bought.”
He took the book and left it with a lazy movement on the display cabinet next to them. Then, in the next minute, he bellowed, “Everyone out.”
Kat jumped. She took a step back, but he grabbed her hand.
“Not you.” He frowned at her. “You stay.”
A bewildered Martina and her five assistants appeared in the big hall. They shot curious glances her way before filing through the door.
When they were alone, he said, “I wanted you to have it.” The calmness was back in his voice, but his tone carried a note of steel. “I don’t buy women.”
“Well, I won’t have it. Stop sending me gifts.”
They challenged each other for a charged moment, until Kat realized she was all but gaping at him, transfixed by his latent strength and deceptive calm exterior.
“I’m leaving.” Dammit! That sounded breathless.
He crossed his arms. “You’re not.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
His gaze was steady. “This time, I’m not letting you get away so easily.”
Was he for real? “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“That’s not my intention.” He took a step toward her.
“Then what is?” She refused to back up. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he intimidated her.
“This,” he said, reaching out to touch her hair. He rubbed the strands between his thumb and forefinger as if testing its texture.
She could only stare at him like a bird who knew the snake was going to strike, but was paralyzed with fear. Her fear wasn’t for the man who faced her. If he wanted to harm her he could’ve done so last night. There was nothing in the hundreds of social media fan pages dedicated to him that pointed at violent behavior. The fear was for herself, for her inability to resist someone who would only play with her and leave her broken when the game was over.
“Now, Katherine,” he said in a deep, soft voice, “I’m going to kiss you.”
She looked up at him dumbly, feeling like a doll, unable to get her mind to focus or to push words past her mouth.
He moved slowly enough so that she had ample time to pull away, to run for the door, but she stood frozen to the spot as he removed his glasses, holding them in one hand while the other went to the back of her neck. He cupped her nape gently and brought his lips inches from hers. He waited, and when she still didn’t move, his long lashes closed over his eyes as he gave himself over to an expression that said he was going to enjoy a rare and favorite treat.
When his lips touched hers, it wasn’t rough and wild as she expected, but tender. At first, he kept still, giving her time to get used to the sensation. She liked it. She more than liked it. Sparks detonated under her skin. Heat rushed through her body as he lightly brushed his mouth over hers, giving her only enough to make her want more. Yes, she desperately wanted to taste more.
The tenseness of her muscles melted. Just one little kiss, and her body softened and arched to his, needing a more intense caress. He reciprocated without hesitation. Pressing his mouth more firmly to hers, he took control of the kiss. Like he’d manipulated her hand to turn the pages of the book, he molded her lips with his, enticing her to mimic the movement. He teased her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.
Leaning her hands on his chest for support, she moaned under the skillful kiss. He infiltrated all of her senses. He smelled delicious, of citrus and cinnamon. He tasted of coffee and mint. Powerful chest muscles flexed under her palms as he
pressed his body against hers. He was deliciously strong and lean, his hard-on pressing against her stomach.
Wait. She opened her eyes. He was hard for her. What was she doing? Ashamed of her weak will, she pushed away. Lann didn’t protest. He let her go, allowing her to place two steps between them. He didn’t say anything, just stood there and watched her.
She touched her fingers to her lips. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”
He gave her a strained smile. “Don’t be.”
Replacing his glasses, he assessed her with clever observation while she tried to get her erratic breathing under control.
“It was a mistake to come here,” she said, turning for the door.
“Katherine.” His unnaturally soft voice made her pause. “You’re torturing me.”
She could only stare at him, at a loss for words.
“What is holding you back?” he asked. “Are you still in love with him?”
She forced through parched lips, “With who?”
“Your ex-boyfriend.”
She gasped. “What do you know about Mac?”
“Did he ever give you an orgasm?”
“Yes,” she said, an ingrained sense of loyalty making her defend Mac. “Every time. Not that it’s any of your business.”
His expression darkened. “Did he make you scream?” She shook her head to make him stop, but he was relentless. “Once I have you in my bed, I intend to give you all of it, everything you’re going to beg me for.”
Blood rushed through her veins. No man had ever spoken to her like this. Her cheeks burned while heat gathered in her core.
“I won’t keep you from your studies if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said in a reasonable voice. “You said it’s important to you, and I respect that.”
She couldn’t believe this conversation was taking place. He was the most forward, unusual man she’d met. He could have anyone in the world. Any woman would fall down at his feet with the flick of his fingers.
“Why me?” she whispered.
His eyes were so intense, she swore they turned a shade darker. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman.”
Aeromancist, The Beginning (SECOND EDITION): Prequel (7 Forbidden Arts Book 2) Page 4