I shrug. “Fine. I’ll install the alarm system and then go home. Whatever you prefer.”
She pouts, but then her eyes slide up to mine. I can’t help but grin. “Where were you going to take me?”
“Pace,” I say slowly, knowing full well that she knows of it, because I happen to know it’s Luca’s favorite restaurant. Small, intimate, set back in the hills of Laurel Canyon. It’s romantic, slightly upscale, and delicious.
Her eyes go wide. “Their minestrone is the best minestrone I’ve ever had,” she mumbles, smirking. “Even better than my grandmother’s, and that’s saying a lot since she was born in Sicily.”
“I’ll meet you at your place at seven, install the system, and then we can make our reservation at eight-thirty.”
“Reservation?” She leans back. “You made a reservation?”
“Of course.” I stand, winking. “See you at seven.”
And then I walk away from her, resisting the urge to throw everything off her desk and fuck her.
I’m losing my mind.
I arriveat her duplex just after seven, the bag next to me full of materials needed to install the alarm system, and my small tool set. I’d gone to the hardware store and asked for the best security system, and they showed me a system that cost as much as my first monthly salary. I exit my car and walk up, and just as I’m about to knock, a woman with curly blonde hair answers the door, her eyes narrowed.
“You must be Anderson,” she says, looking behind her. “I’m Kira. Natalia should be out in a second,” she adds, letting me inside.
“Thanks,” I answer, following her inside. The duplex is small—clean, organized, tidy. Kira turns to me, arms crossed.
“I am only saying this because Natalia is my friend,” she starts, pinning me with a serious expression. “She’s seriously fucked up about love. She actually believes the universe is out to get her on that front, so don’t be surprised if she pulls away.” She studies me as I try not to smile. “Prove her wrong,” she challenges.
I smirk. “I’ll try my best.”
Kira nods as Natalia walks out, and I have to bite my tongue in front of Kira, because the string of inappropriate thoughts that fill my mind would certainly scare her away.
Natalia is wearing a small dress, tight and revealing, with an oversized cardigan and loafers. She looks sexy as hell, her hair pinned up on top of her head, looking casual yet dressed up.
I clear my throat, fidgeting with the bag and my screwdriver. As much as I want Natalia, it’s probably best if Kira is here while I set everything up, considering she lives here, as well. I set the bag and screwdriver down.
“First things first,” I start, picking up the main entrance camera. “Never answer the door without checking the camera.”
I see Natalia roll her eyes at Kira before I move on to the window sensors, and I try to contain my smile as they both watch me raptly.
36
Natalia
Once Anderson is done givingus the rundown of our state-of-the-art security system, and once he’s done fussing over the fact that our windows are single-paned—which, supposedly, is why it’s so drafty in here at night—we walk to his car together. I’m smiling as he opens my door for me, and I ignore the way my stomach seems to bottom out when he gives me a lopsided smile back.
Gone is the icy attitude, the morally bankrupt man I thought I was getting to know in Maui. As it turns out, Anderson is a good person—someone I’ve come to trust. He may act unapproachable, but as I watch him tap his fingers against the wheel when he turns on his music, I can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t let very many people in.
Luca told me to give him a chance—so he must be a decent person.
And seeing him without a suit? He’s like an entirely different person. His hair is a bit shaggier than normal; the five o’clock shadow gives him an edgy look—as do his black jeans and black, lace-up boots. The light-blue button-up accentuates the color of his eyes. I have a hard time taking my eyes off him. He’s not wearing his watch—just the bracelet with dark brown beads.
“What’s the meaning of the bracelet? I notice you wear it with your suit.”
He turns onto Laurel Canyon, his expression easy and his posture relaxed. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
“They’re mala beads,” he explains, holding his hand out so that I can look at them.
I reach out and touch them. They’re warm from his skin, smooth, and a rich, chocolate brown. I take his arm and put it in my lap, swallowing. It’s intimate, holding his hand like this, examining a part of him that I know nothing about. He doesn’t move his hand as he speaks—instead, he takes my hand and holds it. Something fierce and burning runs through me, but not the normal arousal.
Something deeper.
