ALEXANDER

The cackling of his childe should have warned Alexander that something was amiss. When Tanya waltzed into his office and tossed the local newspaper on his desk, he didn’t react.

“You have been played, Alexander,” she said with a grin.

Furrowing his brow, he read the article about him. Words like egotistical, delusional, and unimaginative stabbed him like sharp pins in the big toe. His hands gripped the paper. Ms Greene sure knew how to get on his nerves. A woman who couldn’t tell fashion from her grandmother’s World War attire had the gall to insult him and his business.

He stood and threw the newspaper in the bin. “Have you found out where she lives?”

“I hired a PI to keep an eye on her movements just in case,” Tanya admitted. “I can’t believe Jen published that. Perhaps she was mad at you for trying to kill her employee.”

“I didn’t try to kill her!” Alexander snapped and ran a hand through his platinum hair. “I wanted to scare her into submission. Who would have thought that she would—”

“Outwit you?”

Alexander shot her a piercing glare. “I understand this situation amuses you. Why?”

“Because I’ve never seen you lose to a woman before. Excluding me, of course. And since Jen likes her, your hands are tied.”

“That’s not the issue here. I couldn’t influence her. She’s…different.”

Tanya cocked a brow. “In what way? When I was around Abigail, she seemed like a human.”

“Isn’t that what we assumed about Helena?”

She snorted. “That girl was the definition of a mystery. Still, it all worked out. She is living with her family in Florida and Lucious remains in the U.K.”

His expression grew sour at the memory of the events in London last month. “You should have seen him, Tanya. The loss and pain Lucious went through proved to me just how important she was to him. I had no right to intervene. It was my fault they parted the way they did…”

Tanya hugged him, letting Alexander rest his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m sure you and Lucious will work out your differences. He needs time to heal.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling away. “I’ll let the matters with him rest. For now, give me the address to this reporter’s home.”

A smirk tugged on her crimson lips. “Are you going to kidnap her?”

“Something far worse,” he said with a smile of his own. “I will put her in her place.”

ABIGAIL

Abigail kicked off her shoes and locked her apartment door. On the floor lay a stack of her mail. She groaned as she picked the letters up, most were probably bills. She dumped her bag on the cream sofa before pouring herself a cup of coffee. It took her two hours yesterday to convince Jennifer to publish that article. The readers deserved to know the truth about Alexander and his shady nightclub. The press was about honesty and not about pandering to the overblown egos of the rich. She only wished she could see his face when he read her article. She would give a month’s wages for that.

Her fingers landed on the letter from the Criminal Court of Justice. Ripping it open, she found a yellow summons for jury duty. She had forgotten she submitted her confirmation over a month ago. Abigail checked the date and skimmed the details. She needed to attend every morning for a week or she’d be fined. Just like the justice system to squeeze the last penny out of their citizens if they didn’t feel like doing their civic duty.

She tossed the letters onto the coffee table and sipped her cup of coffee. Her mind invoked Alexander’s husky voice and the way his hands felt against her skin. Abigail’s temperature rose with each naughty thought when the doorbell rang, making her spill her drink.

“Shit!” She shot up and hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, she covered her mouth to keep her gasp in.

“Ms Greene, I know you are there,” Alexander said. “I believe there is much we must discuss.”

“How did you find out where I live?”

“Does it matter?”

Abigail scanned her outfit. She couldn’t let him see her in her normal look, not when she wanted him to believe she was a virgin with a chastity belt the size of the Eiffel Tower. “Of course, it matters! I need to know whether I should call the Gards or not.”

He lifted a tantalizing dark brow. “Could we have this conversation inside? I would like to apologise…for my behaviour.”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me a minute. I have to get…dressed.” Mumbling another curse, she ran into her bedroom where she flung the wardrobe doors open and searched for the oldest clothes she had. She changed into a baggy T-shirt with a Dalek from Dr Who saying, ‘Exterminate!’ along with a pair of faded jeans with paint splatters all over them.

After tying her hair into a tight bun, she found the ugly glasses on her bedside table and put them on. They hurt her eyes since she hadn’t taken her contacts out. Once she entered her living room, she groaned. Apart from the spilled coffee on her table, it seemed too neat. So, she gathered some of her clothes and threw them on her sofa cushions and any furniture she had. She contemplated leaving a pair of panties out but thought better of it as he would find that intriguing rather than disgusting.

Having become the everyday slob, she unlocked the front door. “What can I help you with?”

Alexander visibly cringed, and she struggled not to grin. “May I come in?”

“Ah, sure, sure. Don’t mind the mess. I tried to clean up as best I could, but you know what it’s like to live by yourself—no time to clean.” She waved for him to enter.

He edged into her apartment. His eyes scanned the messy surfaces, the knocked over magazines, and the random paperwork she had scattered on the sofa. Upon seeing his disgust, she trudged past him. She pushed some papers off the seat and sat down.

Once she folded her legs beneath her, she stared at him. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Do you ever clean this place?”

“Not in the past month…or four.” She forced a laugh. “Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?” She picked up her stained mug. A few drops fell onto her rug, and she struggled with the internal need to immediately clean it up before it left a permanent mark. “I was about to get a refill.”

Alexander shook his head. As she walked past him, he grasped her by the elbow. Her body started to prickle with that same electrical current, making her almost drop her cup.

She glared at him. “I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”

He frowned and released her. “I apologise.”

“Why did you come here, Mr Grekov?”

“Alexander.”

“Alexander then.”

He closed his eyes as if trying to retain his gentlemanly ways, which she knew were an act. This man wouldn’t come to her place unless he was after something. She just had to figure out what that something was.

“If you’re finished here, you can leave,” she said.

“I came to apologise for my behaviour at the club the other night. As I’m sure Jennifer has explained, what you saw was an event held for the patrons.” He took a seat on her sofa. “And I would like that coffee you’ve so kindly offered.”

Abigail shuffled her feet in the least womanly way possible to the kitchen counter. She scratched her bum, knowing full-well he was watching her. The sensation of his intense gaze burned into her back while she made the instant coffee.

“White or black?” she called over her shoulder.

His voice ghosted next to her ear, making her jump. “Black, please.”

How did he get behind me without making a noise?

Her breath hitched, and she tried to pretend his closeness wasn’t affecting her. With quivering hands, she poured the steaming water from the kettle.

“Did you know you smell like vanilla?” he asked.

She turned on the spot and handed him his cup. “No. Does that bother you?”

Alexander put his cup down and lifted hers out of her tight hold. “Not at all.” He paused, giving her another onceover with his perfect poker face. “At first, I thought you were a woman who had never been with a man.” Those captivating silver eyes of his melted her insides when his full attention was on her. “Yet, when I looked into you, you’ve dated quite a lot in the past.”

She set her jaw. Any warmth coursing her system fizzled out the moment those words left his mouth. He did a background check on me and dared to fling it in my face like a dirty rag?

“I look into everyone I deal with, Abby.” His frosty words were like a stab in the gut. “You are no exception.”

“Please leave,” she forced through gritted teeth.

Alexander smirked and took a sip of his coffee. “Perhaps next time you won’t have to put on an act to try and deter me. I have lived long enough to be able to see through people like you.”

“According to my research, you’ve inherited the club from your father. My boss—”

He removed her glasses and undid the hair tie that sent her fiery locks cascading around her shoulders like a curtain. “There, you are much more pleasing to the eye. Don’t you agree?”

“Get out!” she yelled.

Alexander pointed to his drink. “But I have not finished my coffee…”

“Leave!” she snapped, louder.

He inclined his head. “Come to Russian Roulette when you think you can handle me, young lady.” With that, he ambled out of her apartment.

Abigail simmered with anger. She stormed into her bedroom and screamed her frustrations into her pillow. Money may have given him a glance at the real her, but she would be damned if she went to see him again. He didn’t deserve another second of her time.

After she threw the pillow across the room, she took a shower and climbed into bed. Every time she closed her eyes, those silver eyes haunted her.

What on earth is wrong with me?

Unable to sleep that night, she took her laptop to bed and started her research on Russian Roulette. None of the articles had any photos available. What caught her attention was that every owner’s name was Alexander. She assumed that it originally belonged to his grandfather since it wasn’t uncommon for businesses to remain in the family. The fact that no photos of his family existed bothered her. Before their interview, Jennifer warned her not to take any photos, either.

Is he camera shy?

She relaxed against the headboard and tapped her chin with her index finger. No matter what it was, when it came to Alexander, things didn’t fit right. He was gorgeous. His charm, movements, behaviour, accent—they all spoke volumes about a man full of experience in life and women. The only problem was that on paper he was twenty-five. And, unless she was writing a fantasy story, she’d think he was Dracula in disguise. She snorted. The stress of her father’s hospital bills was getting to her.

Abigail scratched her head as his words replayed in her mind, ‘I have lived long enough to be able to see through people like you.’ What did he mean by that? Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he couldn’t possibly master the skill of knowing who the person was with a single look.

She recalled the speed with which he’d brought her into his office last night. One moment she was on the last step of the stairs and the next he had her back pressed against a wall a dozen feet away.

How did I miss this before? More importantly, how did he do it?