Resurrected King

by Blue, Kaye

  And it was intimate, no more than fifteen people, though the penthouse was so large it didn’t feel cramped.

  But it was intimidating as hell.

  I had met Sasha several times and knew that if Erin loved him enough to marry him, I could trust him.

  But even still, I couldn’t shake that little bit of intimidation his stature, and the fact that he was—allegedly—a member of the Russian mob, making it impossible for me to be completely comfortable.

  As was the same for many of the other attendees.

  There were several large men flanking the penthouse, clearly security, though no one had directly addressed that point.

  And there was Etienne, whom Sasha had introduced as a good friend, along with Riker, the most blindingly intimidating man I had ever met, who had accompanied him.

  I’d also met Shay, the scarred woman who seemed the most normal of the bunch, though her familiarity with these men left me no doubt that there was more to that story.

  I met several others but was distracted by one person in particular.

  “You should go talk to your husband,” I said to Erin, who had locked eyes with Sasha.

  “Stay out of the kitchen, Adora,” she called over her shoulder before heading to him, practically floating.

  I watched her as she walked and smiled when Sasha wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly.

  Ignored the tug in my own heart.

  Erin’s happiness was something she had fought for and something she deserved.

  Still, I felt a twinge of envy, mostly because I knew I would never have the same, but I wouldn’t allow feelings of jealousy to take away from the moment.

  And besides, I was so distracted I could barely focus on anything.

  He was the reason.

  At that thought, my gaze shifted and landed on him.

  He looked back at me, his brown eyes revealing nothing, but the awareness that sizzled through me every time I saw him was there as usual, as potent as it had always been.

  Maybe more so.

  I tried to ignore my physical reaction, the way my nipples went taut, that tug in my lower belly.

  The reaction was uncommon, practically unheard of, and all the more disturbing because of the man who caused it.

  I glanced away, using my will to not look at him and also to not retreat to the kitchen as I so desperately wanted.

  Instead, I spotted Shay and approached her.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” the woman whispered, her hand moving to her neck as she watched the happy couple.

  “That she is. But happiness will do that to you, I guess,” I said.

  She smiled, the scars on her neck and the side of her face crinkling.

  “I guess,” she said.

  Her response left me curious, but I didn’t pry.

  “Erin told me that you make the bread and pastries for the restaurant,” she said.

  “I do,” I replied, nodding with pride.

  “They are divine,” she said, her dark eyes lighting.

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. Truly some of the best we’ve ever had. Even Riker likes them,” she said, letting her gaze drift over to the hulking man who hadn’t looked at us but who I could sense was well aware of us.

  “I guess that’s a high bar?”

  “For Riker to like something? Very,” she said, a smile on her face, though this time it was directed at something else.

  “I didn’t get to bake the cake,” I said, deciding to change the topic.

  “Erin didn’t want you to?” she asked.

  “No. She said I’d use it as an excuse to hide in the kitchen instead of mingle.”

  “Mingle,” she scoffed, her tone reflecting my feelings, and we both laughed.

  “A kindred spirit?”

  “I’m just saying. Mingling is the worst. Not that I don’t know much about it,” she said.

  “Same. And while you all seem nice,” I said, glancing back at Riker, “well most of you, I’d rather be elbow-deep in flour.”

  “And why is that?”

  At the sound of a voice, his voice, I cut off and wanted to sink through the floor.

  “Shay, I need to talk to you. Now,” a voice I instinctively knew belonged to Riker called, somewhere between grunt and growl.

  Shay frowned, glared at Riker, looked at Erin and Sasha, and apparently decided to comply with the demand.

  “It was nice to meet you, Adora,” she said as she walked toward Riker, each step making her stand a little bit taller.

  “Your answer?” he said when she was several feet away.

  I’d been focused on Shay and Riker, but at his voice, the gentle insistence of his tone, I broke my gaze away from them and looked at him.

  Or rather, looked in his general direction.

  If he didn’t unnerve me like he did, turn me on like he did, it would have been hard enough to look at him, but those facts—plus the fact that I had pulled the gun on him not even a week ago—made this moment that much more excruciating.

  “Well, I know flour, know how to use it, what to add to it to create perfection. People, less so,” I responded.

  I wasn’t sure why I was being so honest, but doing so seemed to come naturally with him.

  I smiled, laughed, the sound tittering, nervous, even to my own ear.

  He didn’t respond, and as the tension ran higher, I knew I needed to do something to break it.

  “But I guess you know that firsthand,” I said.

  I hadn’t wanted to refer to the incident in the alley, had hoped I could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and so far, he had seemed willing to indulge.

  But me being the asshole I am, I had to go and bring it up.

  “I guess I do. But you’re wrong about people,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They love you. Every person I’ve ever seen leave your bakery is beaming.”

  “’Cause they know they just got the good shit,” I said.

  He smiled, the expression quick, honest, and one I got the sense he didn’t make very often.

  But as quickly as the expression came, it was gone.

  “In fact, they do, but I think you’re more than a little bit of a part of that.”

  “What’s your name?” I blurted.

  His words were having an effect on me, one that I didn’t like, or rather one that I liked so much I couldn’t let it grow. And besides, I hated being the center of attention and was more than happy to share the spotlight with him.

  “They call me Ghost,” he said.

  “But that’s not your name.”

  Something passed across his face, but as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

  “Enjoy the party, Adora,” he said, turning to leave as abruptly as he had come.

  Three

  Adora

  “You’re planning on going home alone?”

  At the sound of his voice about an hour after I had spoken to him, I flinched, froze, and then finally turned.

  When I looked at him, I was again struck by my overwhelming reaction.

  Even in that brief moment, his eyes locked on mine, unreadable as always, I was nearly undone by my desire for him.

  I felt thunderstruck.

  Out of control.

  I didn’t like it one bit.

  Right now, what I liked even less was being called out, and I got the distinct impression that was exactly what he was doing.

  “Yes,” I said, wishing the damn elevator had been a minute faster.

  “Does Erin know?” he asked, one brow slightly raised.

  Yeah, I was definitely being called out.

  If I wasn’t so embarrassed, I’d be annoyed, but I didn’t have a leg to stand on.

  Because in truth, what he had caught me doing was unforgivable.

  Sneaking out of my best friend’s wedding reception without even saying good-bye.

  I hadn’t wanted to, had told myself I would get throu
gh this, but as the night wore on, my resolve had weakened.

  I was excited for her, overjoyed that she’d finally found love. But as pathetic as it was, for me, change meant loss, and as happy I was for her, I knew I was losing her too.

  The deep sense of melancholy that I’d thought I’d been keeping at bay was starting to overwhelm me, and I absolutely refused to let my fucked-up emotions put a damper on Erin’s day.

  Slipping away seemed like the best solution, but apparently he had other ideas. Still, I wouldn’t give in so easily.

  “She’s busy. I’ll talk to her later,” I said, starting out strong but sounding defensive by the end.

  Something he hadn’t missed, though he didn’t address it head-on.

  “It’s late. You shouldn’t go by yourself.”

  “I’m more than capable of going home by myself,” I countered, proud that I sounded stronger.

  He didn’t respond, at least not directly.

  Instead, he walked toward and then passed me to enter the elevator that had finally decided to show up.

  “My car is in the garage,” he tossed out, his expectation clear as he stood in the elevator.

  Annoyed but not seeing a way out, I followed him in.

  “Why are you telling me where your car is?” I asked, sounding like an idiot.

  “Because I’m going to use it to take you home,” he said, his patient tone only underscoring how stubborn I was being.

  Which was out of the ordinary for me. I usually did my best to avoid conflict, but then again, I was definitely not at my best.

  “I appreciate the offer, but it’s not necessary.”

  The elevator dinged, and he stepped off.

  “It wasn’t an offer.”

  He stood, one hand on the elevator door, his body rigid, his expression equally so.

  “So you’re insisting?” I asked, fighting to stop the smile that lit my face.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  In that moment, something changed.

  This encounter, tense in a way but also not, became something different.

  His expression shifted, the emotion that I saw there unnamable but intense.

  Until it was gone, wiped away with a blink of his eyes, his expression now so staid I could almost make myself believe I hadn’t seen anything at all.

  Almost.

  “You’re important to Erin. Erin is important to Sasha. Sasha is important to me. So, it’s the least I can do.”

  A reasonable answer, but I didn’t believe it.

  And I couldn’t say why.

  Maybe it was whatever had passed in his expression?

  Perhaps, or perhaps it was something else.

  Perhaps the reaction I was having to him was reciprocated.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he’d really been in the alley that night, but I couldn’t do it, refused to allow myself to open that door again.

  Cowardly, but there was no shame in knowing when to retreat.

  And now was the time.

  Because Ghost, or whatever his name really was, made me feel things and want things, want him, in a way I thought was long past.

  Which meant he was a threat to my safety, a threat to the predictable life I had so painstakingly crafted.

  And that was a risk I refused to take.

  Instead, I nodded faintly and then stepped out of the elevator.

  His expression wasn’t exactly cocky, but I could tell he had expected no less.

  My mischievous side wanted to put him in his place, but I stayed silent as I followed him to the large SUV.

  Besides, sneaking out of Erin’s reception had been a bitch move. This was fair penance.

  He opened the door, waited until I was settled in the passenger seat, and then rounded the car and got into the driver’s side.

  I kept my gaze ahead but in my periphery watched him fasten his seatbelt, start the engine, and drive off.

  Again, I couldn’t help but notice how his movements were. Efficient, no energy wasted.

  Completely under control.

  It was something I liked very much.

  With baking, a certain level of perfectionism was necessary, but as much control as I might have in the kitchen, it didn’t spill over to other areas of my life.

  I suspected that wasn’t true for him.

  Even something as simple as maneuvering a vehicle out of the garage and onto the streets he handled with an efficiency that was borderline scary.

  And so damned sexy it almost took my breath away.

  As he drove, I forced myself to keep my eyes straight ahead and focused on resisting the impulse to chatter.

  It was something I usually did, maybe to fill the space, the awkwardness I often felt, but in his case, there was genuine interest.

  Like why they called him Ghost.

  What his name actually was.

  Questions I had no business wondering about and certainly wouldn’t ask.

  Not again.

  Besides, what little I knew of Sasha, outside of the fact that he was crazy about Erin, was that he was mobbed up.

  And I had no doubt the same was true for Ghost.

  The aura of danger around him was unmistakable, and even if he didn’t intrigue me enough to throw me off my game, common sense dictated that I stay away.

  So I stayed silent, impressed that I hadn’t uttered a word when he pulled to a stop in front of the bakery.

  “Your apartment is upstairs.”

  It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t bother to even think about how he knew that.

  “Yes,” I said instead, nodding.

  He did the same and then held my gaze for a long moment.

  “Mikhail.”

  His voice was low, not exactly soft, but I heard the offering in it.

  An offer I should have been smart enough not to take but one I refused to allow myself to miss.

  I quirked a brow in question.

  “Mikhail. That is my name. Good night, Adora.”

  His eyes were on mine, and I felt like I was losing myself in his gaze.

  So much so that I lingered, the feelings coursing through me ones I couldn’t explain, but the idea that I had just been given a precious gift was one I couldn’t shake.

  “Thank you for the ride, Mikhail. Good night,” I finally managed to say.

  We had arrived, and I could have gotten out of the car at any moment.

  Should have gotten out of the car.

  But I didn’t.

  Couldn’t.

  I was trapped in his eyes, and I wanted to be.

  Wanted so much more.

  It was a feeling I didn’t understand, hadn’t experienced before.

  It was so easy to imagine, giving in to whatever that spark was. One that, at least for me, went beyond physical attraction.

  Mikhail was dangerous for my equilibrium, but even knowing that, he called to me, and I wanted to answer that call.

  He started to move, my cue to run, but I didn’t.

  I stayed still, hanging there on the precipice.

  Waiting.

  The first brush of his lips against mine pushed me over the edge.

  The feeling was potent, powerful.

  Addictive, I feared.

  He deepened the kiss, molding his lips against mine with the same expert control he had used to drive the vehicle.

  I exhaled, the sensations braiding through my body pleasurable, disorienting.

  And then gone.

  He broke away. His eyes were bright and dark with desire I knew was reflected in my own.

  Filled with restraint that I would ordinarily admire but which I hated now.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said.

  Those words sounded like a promise, one I was both sure he wanted to keep and one I hoped he didn’t.

  Somehow, I managed to get out of the car.

  It took everything I had not to look back as I walked away.

  * * * />
  Mikhail

  “What the fuck were you thinking, asshole?” I muttered to myself as I sat in my car.

  I waited until Adora was safely inside, the light coming on in her apartment window my cue.

  I peeled away from the bakery as if leaving fast would counteract how much I wanted to stay.

  It wouldn’t.

  Nothing would.

  Especially now that I’d tasted her lips and seen her look at me, eyes bright with anticipation.

  But I had to go.

  I’d told her my name, a name I hadn’t been called in more than a decade.

  A name that belonged to man I’d believed didn’t exist anymore.

  And that was the way I liked it.

  I was Ghost, a dead man who just hadn’t accepted it yet.

  Mikhail, whoever he had been, was long gone.

  No one, not the members of the Brotherhood, not even Etienne called me that. They didn’t even acknowledge his existence.

  So why had I told her?

  I didn’t know, but it felt right.

  To have Adora call me anything at all shouldn’t have happened, but to have her call me Ghost had felt wrong and was something I rejected completely.

  And to kiss her…

  I needed to stay away from her, and tonight was just more proof.

  The feelings she stirred in me, the recklessness, the desire she so effortlessly stoked was dangerous, more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered.

  Because Adora made me want.

  She made me feel alive.

  And that was more terrifying than anything I could imagine.

  Four

  Adora

  “I told you, you didn’t need to come over, especially this early,” I chided as I pulled the bakery door open the next morning.

  Erin just chuckled and looked at me knowingly.

  I felt heat creeping up my neck. She couldn’t know about what had happened with Mikhail, and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t spill.

  But when she looked at me like that…

  “And let you off the hook for ditching me?” she said, her eyebrow raised.

  “Guess I’m busted, huh?” I said, laughing.

  Her realizing I’d left wasn’t great, but it beat the other option for conversation.

  “Yup. So busted,” she said as she followed me back to the kitchen.