The Immortal Greek (11 page)

****

Ravenna’s mind was in turmoil. The real reason why she didn’t go visit Alberto often was because she associated him with Tommaso. Alberto had loved him like a son. She knew he hadn’t meant to wound her, but his words had stung. After all those years, she still couldn’t accept her brother had taken his own life. She wanted to believe he had been coerced to drink the potion, then killed by an enemy she had never found. Alberto wanted her to stop looking for this person.

“
You must forgive Tommaso. He didn’t mean to leave you alone,”
Alberto had said to her the last time they had talked about her brother’s suicide. But she couldn’t forgive Tommaso for something that wasn’t his fault. He had loved her too much to deliberately cause her such pain. She would have never done something like that to him.

“It’s late. I think we should call it a night.” Alexander was talking to her.

She blinked. They were standing outside of Alberto’s store. The afternoon golden sunrays hit his face at such an angle that only his eyes were illuminated. She stared a moment too long into those pools of aquamarine.

“Ravenna?” His right hand was lying on her left arm, just above her elbow. He didn’t apply pressure to his hold, but warmth radiated from him. Once again, no teasing or flirting, just moral support.

His tenderness touched her. “Yes, it’s late. We’ll find more leads tomorrow.” She fell in step with him as he led the way to his car. The Volvo was parked just around the corner and she lengthened her stride to position herself at the passenger front door, as she had done the previous ride. This time though, she waited for him to open her door. She had noticed Alexander was old fashioned when it came to manners, and he would have done the same for any woman, but he made it look like he was doing it just for her. She liked that. Then she realized that was exactly the reason why women fell at his feet in throngs. Yet, one sideways look from him, his eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary on her mouth, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. Maybe, just once in her life, it would have been nice to feel the kind of abandon Alexander Drako’s careless demeanor promised. She blinked and he was gone.

He had walked around and opened the door for Malina as well, then entered the car, and slumped in the seat beside hers, hands on the steering wheel. “It’s been a long day.”

She nodded, dreading the conversation would eventually lead to the end of their time together.

He tilted his head toward her and gave her a small smile. “You must be exhausted.”

She didn’t say anything.

His smile disappeared and he turned toward Malina. “I’ll drive her home first, if you don’t mind.”

Ravenna had almost said, “No!” out loud. She wanted to find that perfect excuse that would leave her alone with him, but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t reveal her eagerness, and was also terrified he wanted to be alone with Malina instead. Suppressed rage resurfaced and she felt her chest contract, but she refused to sit idly and let history repeat itself. She angled her body and turned to face the shifter. “Malina—”

Malina locked eyes with her, and for a fleeting moment, the expression on her face changed from puzzled to neutral, then she raised one hand as the smallest of smiles graced her. “I’m sorry, Ravenna. I can see you’re tired, and it would only make sense to drive to your place first, then come back to Alexander’s to retrieve my car, but I have an appointment I can’t be late for—”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Ravenna turned back before she could betray her pleasure, but couldn’t help but steal a glance at him.

“Are you sure?” Alexander’s eyes sparkled as he gave her one of his subtle once-overs.

To her, it felt like a ghost hand caressing her body, lingering where her skin tingled the most. She felt her chest raising and lowering, but forced herself to regulate her breathing. “I said I’m fine.” She closed her knees and opened her purse, looking for a lipstick she then applied to her lips to give her something to do.

“Your every wish is an order, my ladies.” Alexander started the engine and entered the traffic, then drove for more than an hour, retracing his former route now clogged with the nocturnal commuting.

Once finally outside his house, she was more than ready to see Malina exit the car and walk away from them.

“I’ll call you if I find out anything.” The were-panther waved at them while opening her car.

Ravenna could barely contain her happiness at finally being alone with Alexander.

“Are you hungry?” He was sitting sideways, his head leaning against the window, one arm around the backseat, the other on his leg.

She envied his composure and was afraid he could see through her. As per her usual response to this kind of situation, she stiffened and pretended she didn’t feel anything. “I am.”

“May I invite you out for dinner?” He smiled and tilted his head in a childlike pose.

“I’ll cook for you.” She hadn’t planned to invite him to her house, but her fixation with keeping every aspect of her life under control had kicked in.

His smile intensified and his eyes lit. “I don’t want you to tire yourself
cooking
for me.”

Despite all her defenses in place to guard against innuendos like the one he had just dropped, she blushed. She recovered soon enough by reminding herself he was a player. Wooing women to his bed was what he did. Then she remembered how he had cornered her in his playroom and all her reasoning went out the window. With great difficulty, she pushed away the image of Alexander dangling the feather before her, and focused on the world passing by outside.

“I’ll fix something simple. Don’t worry, I’m a great cook.”

“Then I’ll be happy to try you.”

She kept her eyes glued to the passing cityscape, knowing she should have had a comeback, but closed her mouth uncertain on how to answer. For once, she didn’t know what she was doing. She had always planned every aspect of her life carefully. Now, she only knew she didn’t want him to leave.

It took an hour and a half to reach the Appian Way, then an additional twenty minutes to find a way to her home that wasn’t blocked. Another archeological site had been opened overnight just a few blocks north of her place. Modern Rome had been built over the stratified remains of the older incarnations of the city. Finding new Roman ruins was only a matter of excavating a few meters under the current level of the road.

She had never enjoyed a traffic detour as much as she did that night. Alexander kept the conversation on a light tone and didn’t make her blush again. Once they parked beside her building, she spotted the two cars sent by Samuel for her protection, and on a deeper level, she wished they weren’t there. By the time she stepped on her staircase and reached her door, her only thoughts were about the Greek walking behind her.

She entered the hallway, dropped her purse and her house keys on the drop-leaf table attached to the wall, then she kicked her heels off and traded them for her black flats. Every night, that was her ritual, but she never followed it if she had guests. Confused by her own actions, she trailed to the kitchen where she opened the fridge to see what ingredients she could use to make a meal. She was relieved her housekeeper had come and filled the fridge and the pantry with food.

“What about Greek chicken?”

He stood by the counter, arms on the marble surface, his usual grin on his face. “Is that an insult?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Please. Give me some credit. If I wanted to insult you, you would have known.”

“Well, you
are
sharp.”

“You’ve never had chicken à la Greek?” She opened the frozen compartment and took out a plastic bag with a pound of chicken thighs. Once every two or three months—depending on her job—she drove to a farm in Umbria, two hours north of Rome, and bought organic meat she then separated and refrigerated at home.

He laughed. “Never even heard of it before now.”

“Then you’re lucky because it’s my favorite dish and one I can make blindfolded.” She regretted the analogy as soon as it came out of her mouth, and hoped he couldn’t see her fingers were fumbling with the resealable strip on the bag.

“Really? Would you wear one for me?” He leaned on the counter and put his chin on his fisted hands. “It sounds fascinating.”

She turned her back to him and opened the plastic bag by puncturing it with a knife, then set it in a plate she placed inside the microwave. “Don’t get yourself too comfortable. Help me with the onions.”

Alexander strode to the sink and washed his hands. She handed him a dishcloth while checking on the meat defrosting in the microwave. He dried his hands, then reached over the knife block to her right. His arm brushed her shirt over her chest, and her legs became jelly. Instinctively, she felt the need to cover her flimsy blouse and grabbed the kitchen apron she kept on a hook by the fridge.

“Let me.” He laid the knife on the counter, then stepped back and helped her tie the apron’s strings around her waist.

Without her heels, she was a head shorter than he. “I can do it—” Somehow, her hands weren’t able to muster such a simple act on their own and they had kept stumbling against each other.

“You smell so good.”

She felt his breath on her neck and a set of shivers ran through her. Her body reacted to his nearness with an enthusiasm that left her looking for support. Where her first reaction would have been to lean back against him, she dropped her hands over the counter beside the sink instead. She tried to maintain as much distance as she could between their bodies, but it felt wrong.

“Like jasmine and sage.” His knuckles trailed the side of her throat from her ear to the hollow on her shoulder. Then his fingers traveled down her side and found their way under the apron, and he traced circles over the shirt and above the swell of her breast.

She wanted more than anything to press his hand lower and recline her head back for her mouth to meet his, but she was terrified whatever happened next would mean so much to her and nothing to him. Aching with need she had never experienced before, she steadied her resolve. “Stop.”

He flashed to her side before she had even finished uttering the command. She noticed his right hand shook as he sliced the onions she had put on the cutting board for him. The tension between them intensified as the cooking preparations proceeded, but he didn’t attempt to touch her again. Despite he was complying with what she had asked of him, it hurt.

“Can you take care of sautéing the onions and the garlic?” She passed him a head of garlic and small pan. “The oil is there.” She pointed at the green bottle on the windowsill over the sink.

He worked as instructed with a certainty in his actions revealing that not only he knew how to cook, but that he also enjoyed doing it. She caught herself staring at him maneuvering the pan over the stove. “Be careful not to burn the onions and remove the golden-brown garlic.”

He laughed. “As you command, Enforcer.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips turned up in a smile. “My kitchen, my rules.”

He stopped tinkering with the pan, and satisfied by the coloring of the onions, he set it aside. Then he leaned with his back to the counter to face her. “You’re the domineering type, aren’t you?”

Unable to bear the intensity in his gaze, she turned her back to him, and focused on her cooking once again. “I’m glad you finally realized it.” She rolled the chicken she had cut into cubes in the flour, then heated a few tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil in a second pan and cooked the meat.

“Sometimes, giving up power makes you free to feel.” He had walked the few steps separating the counter from the stove and was now towering behind her. “Enhances your senses.” He leaned closer. “Opens your mind to possibilities you would’ve never considered.” He breathed behind her ear, sending shivers up and down her body. “Experiences that transcend pleasure and transport you to a different plane of existence.” Without touching her, he kept whispering so close to her throat his words caressed her skin. “A plane where time and space don’t matter, but only kisses and touches, and hands exploring bodies, and need so raw it kills being separated from her, from him.”

Suddenly, he moved away. Where there had been warmth only a moment before, there was now cold. She gasped and had to steady herself against the counter, her entire body pulsing with energy, her heart galloping inside her chest, her legs melting under her.

“What’s next?” He stood next to her, close, but again not touching.

“What?” She wouldn’t dare look at him, not wanting to expose herself, her thoughts so loud he would read them in her eyes.

He laid his hands palm down on the counter, leaned forward, and tilted his head toward her. “What do you want me to do next?”

She felt his silent call and couldn’t find the strength to fight him. She had tried, but it was futile to deny the attraction she felt for him. The moment her eyes met his, Ravenna was lost in them and decided she must have him. She inched closer.

“Do you want me to cut more vegetables?”

She blinked.

He smiled. “More onions? What else can I do? I’m so hungry.”

Ravenna had no name for the array of emotions fighting for supremacy in her mind. She struggled to regain a composure she didn’t feel as her body still thrummed with want. She couldn’t believe she had misread him and almost threw herself at him. If he hadn’t spoken the moment he had, she would have disgraced herself by trying to kiss him. She could barely move without touching him, but managed to reach over him and retrieve a glass. She filled it with cold water at the sink, then drank and took the moment she needed before answering his question.

“Next, we put all the ingredients together, I add the lemon juice, let it cook a minute, then I finally add the yogurt. The original recipe asks for heavy cream as well, but I normally skip it.”

“I think we should try the recipe as it was intended.” He moved to the left, opened her fridge, and rummaged inside. “Don’t you have whipping cream?”

Every time he moved away from her, she felt his absence immediately. “Third shelf on the right.” She also would have ripped anyone else’s head off for taking charge of her cooking, but she let him pour the cream over the chicken without so much as a complaint. They finished cooking the dish, and little by little she was able to summon her old self back, and even enjoy conversation with him.