Chapter 10

I meet his glass with mine. “Why thank you, Nathan. Maybe someday, when I have a social life, I’ll have a trophy husband onmyarm,” I say with laughter.

Again, his expression falls. “Or, you could have me.”

I pull back in my chair and stare at him. “We’ve known each other a whole ten days,” I chuckle. “How can you say things like that with a straight face?”

“If one listens very carefully and watches for certain signs…you can learn all you need to know about a person in the space of one conversation. As a businessman operating within a very competitive environment, I must practice this skill on a daily basis to survive,” he says sternly. His smirk slowly returns. “You and I have had at least ten in-depth conversations, suffice to say, I know all I need to know about you.”

I raise a brow at him. “All?”

He chuckles. “All the important things. Regarding the minor details, that’s why we’re here tonight, so you can fill in the gaps.”

I sit back and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, maybe I need to know more about you. In the hospital, you mentioned that you are a hedge fund manager working with many wealthy clients. How did you enter the field?”

His gaze lingers upon me for a few seconds before he responds. “As you likely know, I graduated at the top of my class from Cornell University with an MBA. I was recruited to work for Goldman Sachs as an investment banking analyst but quickly moved into the private wealth management division where I made several key contacts. After eight years there, I ventured out on my own to become a Hedge Fund manager.”

I nod perceptively and reply, “So you’re not a mafia prince?”

A grin spreads across his face. “How many mafia members attended Ivy League universities and worked for one of the most prestigious financial services firms?”

I shrug. “Probably all of the successful ones anyway.”

His burst of laughter surprises me and his eyes light up beautifully. “Wall Street brokers and gangsters, it’s all the same to you, eh?”

I smile. “Let’s just say, I think they’re all cut from the same cloth.”

He’s still grinning as he nods slowly. “I’m really glad we’re getting this opportunity to know each other better.”

“Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were here so you could thank me,” I say.

“The evening is still young, Chleo,” his grin turns wolfish, and his voice drops an octave. “I’d like to thank you like you’ve never been thanked before.”

A nervous laugh escapes me as I envision all the tantalizing ways he could thank me. Each involves us tangled in his sheets. I clear my throat.

“Dinner will do quite nicely.”

“I’m afraid it won’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he waits for my gaze to return to him. “Or what we’d be like together.”

Another nervous laugh as I scramble for a response and my next breath. Thank God the waitress is back with our appetizers.

“Here is your bortsch,” she says, placing two bowls before us. “And your pelmeni. Would you like to hear tonight’s specials, or should I come back?”

Nathan slips her a few more bills and orders her not to return until he indicates that she should do so. Her face flushes with embarrassment. “Yes, of course, Mr. Wilson,” she says before beating a hasty retreat.

He gestures for me to pick up my spoon.

“Borsch, huh?” I say, dipping my spoon into the soup. He’s eagerly watching me as if my response to the soup is symbolic of my response to him. OK, I can have fun with this. I maintain his gaze I lift the spoon to my mouth, part my lips, and slip it in. I close my eyes and moan softly as I swallow it down.

“Mmm, so good.”

His eyes darken, and he shifts in his seat. “Wait until you taste real Russian.”

“I thought this was authentic Russian cuisine.”

He looks askance at me. He starts to say something but instead spoons some into his mouth. He nods noncommittally. “Next time, you’ll come to my home, and I’ll cook dinner for you, then you’ll judge for yourself.”

My eyes widen. “Who says there’ll be a next time?”

He stares at me in silence, appraising me. “Check your schedule and let me know your next evening off. We’ll have dinner at my place.”

“What makes you so certain that I’ll—”

“Because you can’t stop thinking about me either--,” he says, not as a brag, just as a mere statement of fact.

“I...I don’t—" I stop, knowing I can’t pull off the lie convincingly. Not when he’s pinning me with that arresting gaze like he’s looking right into my very soul. “My schedule’s booked solid for the next couple of weeks. It’ll be difficult to find the time.”

“I’ll wait for as long as it takes,” he opens his mouth for another spoonful of borsh. “And just so you know, there’s no one else, Layla-- just you.”

“Yuri,ithastogo down tonight, it’s been arranged,” I say into the speakerphone as I take the pelmeni out of my kitchen oven. “You have the crew there by 9 pm, no excuses. Understand?” I stir the borsch as Yuri complains to me in Russian. If the whining prick weren’t my cousin, I’d have had him taken out long ago.

“Because I have other plans tonight. You handle this job and don’t fuck it up.” I go to check on the pot of solyanka and nearly burn my hand on the handle. I grab an oven mitt and stir the pot. “Yeah, I’m sending Dmitri to be on lookout.” One of the pots threatens to boil over, and I lunge over to turn off the burner. “Figure it out, Yuri. I’ve got to go.” I reach over and end the call.

I’d promised Layla that I’d prepare her an authentic Russian meal at my place, but after spending the whole goddamned afternoon preparing it, I’m beginning to wonder why I didn’t order it all from and throw it into baking dishes before she arrived.

But the truth is-- I want to do this for Layla. I want her to see how much care and thought I put into the little things, so she’ll trust that I’ll do the same for the more important things when the time comes.

She’ll be here in forty-five minutes, and I still have to sort the kitchen out and grab a shower. What the hell was I thinking? I’ve never tried this hard to impress a woman, never had to. But this was no ordinary woman - this is Dr. Chleo Wood. My plans for her involve more than just getting her into bed.

And why not? Not only is she about to become a highly esteemed cardiac surgeon, but she’s also one of the most stunningly beautiful women I’ve ever met. I pause to think about those dazzling hazel eyes, the high cheekbones, the tip of her slender nose slightly upturned in an eternal state of disdain, perfectly sculpted lips, inviting and sensuous, and that flawless sun-kissed skin. A thick mane of wavy, dark hair framed that angelic face and fell past her shoulders.

She’d filled in the details about her family. Her father’s side of the family is from Ireland but had migrated to the U.S. about two generations ago. Her father, Mrs Wood is a retired Navy Pilot living in Anchorage, Alaska. He met her Panamanian mother while he was stationed at Rodman Navy Base in the Panama Canal. The two married, and after fifteen years of trying, they finally had Chleo. Sadly, her mother died of a rare heart disease before Chleo turned twelve.

This in turn set Chleo on the path to study cardiology and eventually make it her life’s work.

As I begin wiping down the countertops and putting dishes into the dishwasher, I recall how our first date went. It was a success in that she agreed to a second date. I was a little annoyed that it’s taking place two weeks after our first one, but it was the first evening her demanding work schedule permitted.

The dinner conversation had been…like playing a sensual game of chess or some bizarre dance of push and pull. But in the end, I knew Chleo wanted to see me again. It’s like she has an itch that only I can scratch. And I intend to scratch the hell out of it tonight.

Which is why everything needs to be perfect. I place the last of the dishes in and turn on the dishwasher. I check the dinner table set for two, complete with fine China, white table linens, and candles. I’ve got a bottle of wine chilling and all I need to do now is get myself ready.

While in the shower, I reflect back to how the date ended. I insisted that Chleo let me drive her home instead of taking the train at such a late hour. I was grateful that it gave us more time to talk and kept us in close proximity to make a good-night kiss less of a pipedream.

She lived in a townhouse apartment in a neighborhood she could afford on a student’s budget. Her three roommates are fellow medical students on their way to becoming doctors like Chleo.

She told me she enjoyed our time together and would let me know when we’d see each other again. I didn’t leave room for the awkward pause. I was dying to kiss her, and she wanted me to. It was written all over those dazzling hazel eyes.

So, I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. Instantly, a powerful rush of longing and desire gripped me. Her softness, the sweet scent of her skin, and the way she so willingly surrendered to my need turned me the fuck on. The heat between us erupted into a raging inferno as her mouth parted to mine and our tongues sparred as our hands eagerly groped each other. Neither of us could get enough. If a mere kiss felt this good, the ultimate act would blow our fucking minds.

My God, I wanted her so bad. Take her and make her scream my name. But I was in it for the long game, which meant I had to pace myself, not take everything all at once.

It took every ounce of self-control to pull back when she clung to me. The thickly fogged windows bore witness to our heated make-out session with us both breathing heavily, our heads reeling from the effort of stopping short of what we both so desperately wanted.

“I’d better walk you to your door,” I’d said, officially calling an end to our date. If I didn’t get her out of my car right then, I couldn’t be responsible for what would happen next.

Chleo had given me a mischievous grin, glancing down at the straining tent pole in my pants. I can’t remember the last time my dick had been that hard.

Somehow, we made it to her door. Not daring to start something I couldn’t stop, I brushed my lips against her soft cheek and whispered, “Until next time.”

Next time is finally here. Tonight, I will have Dr. Chleo in my bed, warm, naked, and very satisfied. I will claim her, mark her as mine.

The mere thought of her perfectly toned, naked body tangled in my sheets has me hard as fuck and I desperately crave release. Besides this state of arousal is unacceptable, I need to be in full control when Chleo arrives. So, I give in to desire, gripping my cock firmly, stroking it rhythmically as I dream of Chleo firm round ass in that tight black dress. How silky smooth and hot her skin felt under my touch. The way she arched into me, pressing those full breasts against me as she moaned my name in that sinfully sultry voice. I think about how she’ll cry my name when I fuck her hard up against the wall, on the dining room table, bent over my desk, fisting handfuls of her dark hair. Within seconds, I’m coming all over that sexy as fuck, beautifully bronzed body of hers.

I take a moment to catch my breath and to come down from that high. I step out of the shower, dry off quickly, and prepare for Chloe’s arrival.