by Abbi Cook
Claire's husband would have no problem with her seeing someone like a therapist if it helped her regain some bit of happiness, unlike my husband. In that way, like so many others, Albert and Adam are quite different men.
She takes hold of my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as she looks into my eyes. "Never. Sisters stick together."
Sisters stick together. Always.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexei
After giving Samson the day off, I follow Natalie to where he told me her sister lives in Georgetown. To my surprise, I see she didn’t get a new tire so she doesn’t have to drive around on a donut. I wonder if that husband of hers doesn’t care if she gets into an accident and that’s what kills her, or if possibly she didn’t tell him about her flat tire.
Glancing up at the rearview mirror as I wait for the red light to change, I smile at my reflection. “Is she keeping secrets from him? Interesting. But why?”
I’m happy when she takes the car to a shop nearby and drops it off before walking the few blocks to her sister’s house. That Adam Anchoff wouldn’t care how she died irritates me. A car crash is so fucking messy. He’d probably be fine with her getting offed that way, though.
Jackass.
A little more than an hour later, she walks out into the sun looking fresh and sweet. And an easy target.
I walk behind her for nearly a block before I make my move. Catching up with her, I say, “Please tell me you didn’t have another flat tire and didn’t call me.”
Natalie turns to look at me, and I see fear in her eyes. I’m so used to people being frightened by me in those last moments of life that it doesn’t register for a moment that I’ve startled her.
Attempting to calm her, I give her a warm smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. So much for chivalry, right?”
For a few seconds, I’m not sure she won’t run away, but then her nature takes over and she can’t help but be polite. “Oh, Alexei. You did scare me there. I’m sorry if I was rude for a moment. I just didn’t expect to see you here right now.”
“It’s almost as if fate keeps throwing us together,” I say, knowing how much people love that fate shit. Like there’s an invisible hand guiding any of this we’re all going through.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Swiveling my head left and right, I pretend to look for her car. “Did you get stranded by another flat tire?”
“No,” she says, waving off that possibility before pointing down the road toward the shop where her car sits waiting for her. “I decided to have it repaired at a tire store down the road since I knew I was coming to see my sister. She lives in the red brick house on the corner back there.”
It’s amazing no one has ever taken advantage of Natalie before with how easily she offers information. I’m still nothing but a perfect stranger to her, yet she so willingly gives me details about her life a stranger shouldn’t have.
“I’ll walk with you there then.”
She accepts my offer with not a second thought, that trusting nature of hers sure I’m just being a gentleman. “Okay, thank you. So what are you doing in Georgetown? Do you work here?”
My dark grey business suit makes that question a logical one, of course. I look like I’d work in one of the offices around this section of D.C. That the suit is merely what I wear because I feel comfortable in it never crosses anyone’s mind.
“No, but I do have business in the area. I just got out of a meeting and happened to see you walking down the sidewalk here. I thought about not bothering you since I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you or anything like that. The world is a very strange place full of dangerous people, and I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I was stalking you with how often we’ve been running into one another in the past few days.”
We continue walking as I talk, and when I finish, I look over to see her reaction. I’m always amazed at how people miss the most obvious things right in front of their eyes because they choose to. I’ve all but said I am stalking her, but still she doesn’t think it’s possible.
I watch for any hint that somewhere deep in her subconscious she has a hint that’s what I’m doing, but I see no evidence of that. She’s sweet and naïve, and because of those traits, it doesn’t dawn on her that a man popping up repeatedly in her life in less than a week is not normal.
And certainly not safe.
No, all I see is kindness in her eyes for that not bothering you comment I made. Why does that work on women? As if bothering someone was some kind of crime.
I think it’s because too often their boyfriends and husbands let them know that they don’t like being bothered, so they learn bothering someone is bad. By extension, making anyone else feel like they could be bothering them is just as bad.
So she quickly moves to make sure I know I’m not bothering her in the least. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I appreciate the company. It’s a beautiful day for a walk, but a walk is always better when you have someone to talk with on the way.”
And with that, the idea that I’m stalking her is dismissed as easily as I knew it would be. People are easy to manipulate if you simply pay attention to their behavior. I have no doubt her husband has made her feel like she was nothing but a bothersome thing more than once, so all it took for her to accept me appearing out of nowhere in a place I have no business being was dropping that little hint about not wanting to bother her.
Now I’ll see if it will be as easy to get her to come back to my house.
“What time did the mechanic say your car will be done?” I ask as we walk toward the shop.
“They didn’t say, but I figure it can’t take that long, right? It’s just a flat tire.”
We talk about how it’s probably ready for her now, the two of us making small talk I have no interest in but recognize is useful in getting her to the next stage. Trust takes far less time than most people believe, but it does involve being willing to have these meaningless conversations.
By the time we reach the shop, we’ve talked about the weather, how much she loves Georgetown, and how she’s sure her car must be finished. Interestingly enough, she never mentions why her husband didn’t do this for her.
Then again, it is the twenty-first century. Men don’t have to handle car repairs for their wives. Natalie is fully capable of getting a tire repaired.
But considering I know exactly the kind of man her husband is, I suspect he would have seen to the repairs himself if he cared. Or if he knew the tire needed to be fixed.
Curious, I ask her, “Didn’t your husband have the time to take this to a shop closer to your house?”
The sheepish look that comes over her face gives me my answer. Natalie didn’t tell him. The question now is why.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell him, and since I was coming to see my sister today, I figured why not just get it fixed myself? He’s got a lot of things going on at work. The last thing he needs is to be worrying about a silly thing like a flat tire,” she explains, trying very hard to make excuses for her husband.
No need, Natalie. I’ve meet him. He’s not worth it. And he’s paid me good money to kill you.
Not content to let him off the hook, I nod but say, “I’m sure you’re right, but I can’t imagine he wouldn’t have made sure to get the car fixed if he knew. At least that’s what I’d do for my wife, if I had one, that is.”
Natalie’s eyes widen a tiny bit at the news that I’m not married. Interesting. Had I misjudged her? Is she not that devoted yet useless wife her husband made her out to be?
“I’m sure you would, Alexei. I can imagine you’d definitely be that kind of husband.”
We stop in front of the tire shop as I ask, “What kind is that?”
For the first time, her smile is forced when she answers, “Doting. My sister’s husband is like that. She’s very lucky. Well, this is my stop. It was nice to see you again, Alexei.”
“Well, since you pegged me right on the doting thing, let
me come in with you to make sure everything’s okay. Sometimes these guys see a woman alone and try to take her for as much as they can.”
“That would be so sweet! You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate that. As you well know, I don’t know much about tires, having learned how to change one just the other day, courtesy of you,” she says with such kindness I feel sorry for her.
What kind of fuck treats his wife so poorly that she literally smiles from ear to ear when a strange man offers to help her? Obviously, I know the answer to that. The kind of fuck who pays someone like me to kill her.
I open the door and escort her into the shop only to find that they haven’t even begun working on her tire. The guy behind the counter with more grease on his hands and face than in any car around him complains about getting backed up and needing a few hours more, all the while talking to me instead of the person who’s actually his customer.
Natalie’s usually sweet face twists into a frown. “I guess I’ll have to go back to my sister’s.”
I quickly tell the man to call her the second he finishes working on her car and turn to look at her. “A chivalrous man would at least walk you back there then.”
As we begin our walk back to the big red brick house on the corner, I subtly ask, “Would you let me get you lunch? It’s the least I can do.”
She waves off my suggestion for a moment and then sighs. “Well, I am hungry. I think there’s a café a few blocks from here.”
“I have a better idea, but you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Natalie?” I ask with as much sincerity as I have in my corrupt soul, which isn’t much after all the years of being me.
She should say no. She doesn’t even know me. I am that perfect stranger I’ve been since I walked up beside her car and tapped on her window. Three conversations later, all she knows other than my name is I’m single. I’ve told her nothing else about me. Not even what I do for a living—well, the lie I tell people when I’m asked about my job. But I haven’t even offered that.
In fact, I’ve offered nothing to make her trust me. Still, I watch as she deliberates whether to go to lunch with me or not. She isn’t deciding whether she should trust me or not. No, she’s deciding if it’s okay for a married woman like herself to have lunch with a man like me.
A man who’s a perfect stranger but who makes her feel something she hasn’t felt in a long time, if ever.
Her answer to my invitation skips over whether she trusts me or not. “I am hungry. Where do you want to go?” she asks quietly, almost as if she’s afraid to say the words too loudly in case anyone might hear.
I lightly press my hand against her elbow to direct her toward my car. “I know the perfect place. Come on. I’ll drive.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alexei
Tossing my keys onto my kitchen counter, I head toward the refrigerator and leave Natalie standing in the middle of the room admiring the redesign the decorator finished a few months ago. Not that the place isn’t stunning. For what it cost, it should be. I guess I’m just used to it so it doesn’t impress me much anymore.
“Your house is beautiful. I guess I just assumed when you said you wanted to take me to lunch that we’d go to a restaurant,” she says in a tiny voice behind me.
I close the stainless steel refrigerator door and turn to face her. “I thought that maybe it would be better if we had something to eat here. You know, prying eyes and all. I’d hate to have your husband misunderstand.”
She nods but doesn’t respond. Is it she’s not worried about being seen with another man or she doesn’t think her husband would care?
“Would you like a tour of the rest of the house since you’re here?” I ask as I round the kitchen island and place my hand on the small of her back to begin guiding her toward the dining room.
She resists for only a second or two and then willingly lets me move her wherever I want, all the while complimenting me on my home as I point out parts of it to her. The artwork in the hallway I never liked because it’s just fucking colored shapes but everyone seems to think is avant-garde. The lighting going up the stairs that highlights more art I don’t care about. The antique writing desk that was my father’s that sits in an alcove just past the top of the steps.
“I love your floors,” she says nervously as I continue to direct her toward a room at the end of the hallway.
“If I remember what the designer said, they’re bamboo. Some kind of cherry bamboo maybe,” I say as I open the first bedroom to show her. “That’s the first guest room.”
She once again compliments me on something I don’t care about and had no part creating. “Your rooms are so big.”
Two more guest rooms later and more kind words for my decorator’s style choices, I point toward the final room I want to show her and stop. “That’s my room down there. I’m sure you don’t want to see that, though,” I say dismissively even as I wonder if she’ll take the bait.
Curiosity and good manners create a strange mixture in her, and she suddenly seems to worry about my feelings, even as that makes no sense. “Well, I’ve seen the rest of the house, so I might as well. I mean, unless you don’t want me to. I can’t imagine it’s messy in there considering the kind of man you are,” she says with a smile.
The kind of man you know nothing of, Natalie, and who now has the green light to take you to my room.
“If you insist.”
I open the door for her to look in, but unlike with the other rooms, I don’t say a word as I ease her across the threshold. Before she knows it, she’s in my bedroom alone with me.
And all I had to do was be in the right place at the right time on a few occasions.
Her eyes wide, she looks at the ceiling and then down at the floor. “This is very nice, Alexei. Not messy at all, just like I thought.”
My gaze fills with the image of her looking so innocent in front of me. Like a lamb served up to a wolf.
Taking a step around her, I crowd her space so she can’t take a breath in without me feeling the rise and fall of her breasts. If she steps away, I’ll pull her back. If she tries to run, I’ll catch her.
Her trusting nature has led her here, and now she’s mine to do with as I please. I want to know what’s beneath that façade of sweetness and politeness. I want to know if what I thought about her perfect mouth was right.
But most of all, I want to fuck her so she’ll at least have one good lay before I have to do my job.
She tilts her head back to look up at me, suddenly so petite. Her soft blue eyes stare up into mine, but there is no fear in them. Interesting.
“What kind of bird is your tattoo?” she asks before anxiously glancing down at my right hand.
“A phoenix.”
Looking up at me again, she smiles. “Is that your only tattoo?”
With a shake of my head, I answer, “No.”
“Why did you get that?”
“Because someone betrayed me and when I got over it, my life was different. I was different.”
She’s nervous and wants to make small talk. I don’t.
I wait for her to speak again so I can decide how this will go. Will she protest? Then she’ll get charm before any pain. Will she give in easily? Then she’ll make things easier on herself, for sure.
“What do you do for a living, Alexei?” she asks in a breathy voice.
Not the words I expected to come out of her mouth. For a moment, I look down at her in surprise, but I quickly regroup and answer, “I do things for people they don’t want to do themselves.”
“Is that what you’re doing right now?”
I shake my head. No, this isn’t for anyone but me.
“Nobody paid you to bring me here and sleep with me?” she asks with more innocence than should ever be attached to those words.
Once more, I shake my head. “No. Why would someone do that?”
Natalie bites her bottom lip and then answers in a sad voice, “Because my husband isn’t happy with me,
so I thought maybe he paid you to teach me how to please him.”
“No. Nobody’s paid me for that.”
I don’t exactly know why, but this conversation is making my cock harden like a steel rod. Maybe it’s her innocence or the fact that she hasn’t tried to run, but damnit this woman is making me want her so fucking bad and I haven’t even touched her yet.
Before she has the chance to ask another question, I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me hard, holding her tightly to me. She’s surprised at first, and then begins to writhe in my grip.
But it’s no use.
“I shouldn’t do this,” she says unconvincingly.
“Are you saying you haven’t thought of this ever since that day we met?” I ask and then tilt my hips, loving how my cock feels pressed against her.
She shakes her head furiously. “No! I swear! I wouldn’t do that.”
I move my hand up her back and stuff it into her hair before tugging it hard and pulling her head back. “Don’t lie. Of course you did. I did too. I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.”
“I’m married. I wouldn’t think of cheating on my husband,” she pleads as I lower my mouth to hers.
Against her lips, I whisper, “Yes, you would. It’s why you stopped at that antique store that afternoon and it’s why you willingly came here with me. You want what I want, so don’t lie.”
Lifting her hands, she tries to pull mine from her hair but can’t. “I shouldn’t do this. We need to stop this now.”
“No.”
For a long moment, I wait to hear her truth while her warm breath drifts across my lips. I’m more excited than I’ve ever been with a woman, and I haven’t even kissed her yet. My cock aches to be inside her.
Her eyes slowly close, and then she whispers, “I did think of what it would be like with you. You were just so nice to help me with my tire.”
I tighten my hold on her hair and groan as my cock throbs. “I don’t do nice, but that’s not what you want anyway.”