The Immortal Greek (3 page)

“Fine. Have at it.” He made a scene of looking for the playroom’s keys in his jeans’ rear pocket. “Hope you’ll find the content of this room as enthralling as my few carefully chosen guests do.” He slid the key into the lock, let it click, and pushed the door open. Anticipation building, Alexander turned sideways to let her in without taking his eyes off of hers.

“Thank y—” She stopped in mid step. Her recorder fell on the floor with a loud thud.

Ravenna froze, not knowing where to look, yet her eyes couldn’t seem to absorb enough of the sight.

He picked up the recorder for her and reached over to deliver it to her from behind.

Without turning, she saw the small, black rectangle from the corner of her eye and automatically took it from him and let it slide inside the front pocket in her skirt. She had felt his thumb brushing her wrist and she was still shivering.

“I…” She couldn’t formulate complete sentences while staring at the furniture and décor throughout the room. Everything was as tasteful and elegant and sinful as the man behind her. If the rest of the house was a perfect example of Art Deco, his playroom—she should have known better when he had said the word
playroom
—belonged to a flat in New York, all steel and cream leather surfaces, gray walls, and black Artemide lamps. The wall on the opposite side was made of glass, opening onto the street below and the other houses. She blushed at the thought of people outside seeing what happened there.

“Yes?” His voice was low and sensual, almost a whisper. He was too close to her, invading her personal space. “Were you saying something, Miss Del Sarto?” Then his warmth was gone.

Facing straight ahead, she heard Alexander close the door behind them and the first tinge of panic settled in, making her backpedal, only to smash her back against his chest. A firm, warm chest. Well-defined pectoral muscles. She put some distance between them by stepping to the side, her heels wobbly.

He moved out of the way and walked a few steps to stand before her, his arms behind his back, a grin tugging at his lips as if he were trying not to laugh. “Where would you like to start?” His head tilted toward a padded table resembling a massage station with stirrups and leather straps.

She averted her eyes from the table, only to end up looking at a rack on the wall containing an array of handcuffs, belts, whips, and other objects she didn’t have a name for. She couldn’t repress a gasp. “I suppose I can take your word for it. If you swear nobody enters this… room without your permission—” Hands clammy, she turned toward the exit.

Faster than she, he was at the door, blocking her way out. “No, no, by all means, you must search my playroom.” He smiled. “You have a reputation to uphold,
Enforcer
.”

The combination of the sights and the way Drako had said “enforcer” pulled Ravenna’s thoughts away from the investigation at hand. A subject that had everything to do with the feelings the man elicited in her. She tried to focus on the reason why she had demanded to see that room.

His smile widening, he opened his arms by his sides. “In fact, you haven’t thought of searching me yet. That must be against rules or something, right?”

He took two steps, which put him a hair’s breadth from her. The buttons on the front of his pearl-gray shirt—a custom-tailored job judging from his initials on the collar, a detail so small it could be noticed only at such close range—almost touched the buttons of her shirt. Her breathing became uneven and her chest expanded to take air in, straining the seams of her blouse and her patience. Even without physical contact, she could feel his warmth. His scent was impossible to ignore and clouded her senses. Alexander Drako smelled like a sunny day in summer, and she had clearly lost her mind. She took a step back, wanting to stand her ground and flee at the same time, hating that he could embarrass her so easily.

“As I said earlier, I want to fully cooperate. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. I’ll gladly show you how I spend my time here. I assure you it can be rather pleasant.” He slowly walked forward, one step at a time. “Maybe, if you’re up to it, I can demonstrate a thing or two?”

She saw it coming but couldn’t help falling for his trick, and she stepped back for each of his steps forward. Soon, her retreat was stopped by the wall, her hair tangling in whatever was behind her. She didn’t dare turn to check. Something feathery popped out at the corner of her right eye and she inched away from it.

“That’s my senses enhancer, in case you’re wondering.” His hand reached out to the side of her face, and without touching her, he grabbed a long, white feather with dangling glass beads hanging from transparent filaments.

One of the beads trailed down from her right cheek to her throat, and then it slid inside the collar of her shirt and almost reached the hollow between her breasts, making her shiver. Drako had her caged against the wall, his body too close to hers, one of his hands resting on the wall by her face, the other holding the feathery contraption before her eyes. The object was beautiful and her imagination flittered across the possible ways it could be used. As if reading her thoughts, the infuriating man’s face lit with a victorious expression, and she realized he was proving a point to her. Anger finally prevailed over her addled senses, and the image of the dead young man popped before her eyes.

“My design, as several of the other—”

“Step. Out. Of. The. Way. Now.” Ravenna couldn’t believe she had let this man make a fool of her. Never in her life had she permitted anyone to get so easily under her skin.

Drako pivoted on his heels and opened his left arm to the side to let her pass. “You only had to ask.” He hung the feather back on the hook.

His calm demeanor and satisfied expression unnerved Ravenna, but she had conceded too much to him already. She smoothed her skirt with the palm of her right hand, letting the charms on her bracelet hit each other. The familiar sound helped her regain the balance she needed to fake her impassiveness to the room. To him. To his touch. To the fact she had wanted him to show her what he could do with that feather.

“Let’s tour the rest of the house.” He strode to the door, opened it, then waited for her to reach him. “Shall we?” He let her pass without moving from the doorway, forcing her to flatten away from his body to avoid contact and exit the room at the same time. Once they were both back in the hallway, he locked the door and pocketed the key, giving her another of his all-knowing smiles.

She spent the next hour searching four beautifully furnished guestrooms, a well-stocked library, five bathrooms—two of which had clubfooted, cast iron tubs—a sitting room, and finally a gym that could rival the small one Ravenna had a membership to. Drako followed her like a shadow. Once in a while, he would comment on something she was doing or offer a word of praise on her skills. He even attempted small talk about the paranormal community and Council politics. She silently suffered his presence, but refused to lose her temper again. Or to be affected by the way he talked to her and looked at her. Or by the way he had subtly brushed her arm as if he hadn’t meant to. By the time they were ready to visit the guest room from which the victim had leapt to his death, she felt ready to bolt out of that house.

“This is the purple room.” Drako let her in, but remained outside.

She was surprised he wouldn’t enter, but inwardly sent her thanks to the pantheon above because she needed a moment to compose herself.

“I don’t think you’ll find anything here.”

She had a hunch he was right, but would have never admitted so, and she had to follow her own handbook to the letter and search it anyway. Her strict adherence to rules and regulations was the reason she was the best enforcer the Council had. It didn’t matter to her that she was called names even in her presence because of her work ethic. In fact, she enjoyed that the rest of the paranormal community gave her a wide berth.

Like the rest of Drako’s residence, the purple room was spotless. Not a molecule of dust was detected when she trailed her fingertips over the antique desk sitting by the corner. Cream and gold trimmed stationary with the
AD
initials lay on the leather cover on the desk. The picture was completed by an ink well and a plume. She snorted at the affectation.

“Did you find anything?” He stepped inside the room.

Startled, Ravenna turned on her heels. “No. I haven’t.” She noticed his sly expression had been replaced by concern, and something else that, had she known him any better, could have been interpreted as sadness. She shrugged the thought off.

He walked to the desk, his eyes on the French doors opening into the balcony. “I want you to find how that boy got the Immortal Death.”

A sudden current of air ruffled the papers on the desk, and the deep purple curtains framing one side of the French doors billowed out and engulfed Ravenna. He closed the gap between them and unraveled the curtain from her upper body. He completed the action without touching her. She felt disappointed.

Unable to understand her own sentiments, a moment passed before she whispered, “Thank you.”

He nodded and retreated outside of the room, then stopped at the doorframe where he leaned on it and waited for her to finish her search. She could feel his eyes lingering on her, and for once, she wished he would talk and say something outrageous so she could resume her loathing of him. His last statement had rung true and she wasn’t prepared for the playboy to be anything more than shallow. She didn’t want him to have a laudable trait. He was already handsome, rich, and successful. Alexander Drako was too handsome. And he smelled good. And he had kind eyes. And a bright smile. And she was at his house on official Council business. She inwardly groaned and smashed her palm against the iron-wrought railing of the balcony.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” She had to finish her search as fast as she could. She tried to blame her unprofessional behavior and wayward thoughts on the lack of sleep—she had been working for four days straight and maybe napped an hour a day. The resemblance of the boy’s death with Tommaso’s had also caught her unprepared. “I’m almost done here.” She leaned over the less illuminated corner in the balcony, but what at first had looked like something worth inspecting turned out to be a cast iron plant holder sporting several terracotta vases filled with succulents. Mentally worn-out, she walked back in and strode out into the hallway without glancing at Drako. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

“As you wish.” Sounding as tired as she felt, he followed a step behind, then passed her and headed toward the staircase.

On her way back, she noticed the long corridor had an alcove opening at an angle that made it impossible to see it from the other direction. “That’s clever architecture.”

He slowed his pace and turned to look at her, his eyes following the direction of hers. “What…? Oh, that. The lovers’ nest.” The hint of a smile, a sincere child-like smile, made an appearance on his face. “I asked Coppedè to add this cozy spot and he named it such.” He entered the small space and plopped himself on the cushioned bench taking the whole width of the alcove, then reached for a light blue tassel dangling from the low ceiling and pulled it. A curtain the exact shade of the wall came down, and Drako disappeared behind it. “I spend hours here reading.”

Ravenna was hit by a memory from her youth. “When I was a kid, I had something similar in my house.” Tommaso had showed her the hiding space beneath the servants’ stairs. Their secret house was big enough to contain the two of them, plus a night table Tommaso had cut the legs of to make shorter and two kids’ chairs. She didn’t know why she had just shared that with the playboy.

Drako’s head peeped out of the curtain. He opened his mouth to say something, but she reached inside and yanked the tassel to raise the curtain. “I need to take a look at it.”

He pushed himself out of the alcove, and with a flourish of his right hand, he showed her the inside. “By all means.”

She replaced him on the bench and took a good look at the alcove. The inside was nothing more than a shallow nook, big enough for one person—or two very affectionate ones as its name implied. The place was painted light gray as the curtain and outside walls, but the cushion was the same light blue as the tassel. On the two opposite walls, white built-in shelves were filled with books. Drako liked to read about ancient mythology it seemed. She chastised herself for taking notice of his reading habits and redirected her focus once again to her investigation. Soft illumination came from two directional lights on the ceiling. She could have spent hours there too. Her gloved hand trailed over the cushion, then carefully under it. Something hard bumped against her probing fingers. Her heart raced as her gut feeling told her she had found her proof.

Drako’s eyebrow shot up in a silent question.

She retrieved the small object and exhaled the breath she had been holding. In her hand there was a small glass flask with a few dark drops left inside. She straightened the flask to send whatever was left of the potion to the bottom, carefully moved it to the other hand, then asked him the perfunctory question she had to ask.

“Is this yours?”

He regarded her with a cold expression. “No. It isn’t.”

As she was looking for the lid under the cushion, Drako swore in Greek. Without warning, he hit the wall by the alcove with his fist. Taken by surprise by his outburst, she almost dropped the flask.

“What was that for?” Meanwhile, she had also found the lid. The small glass ball nested on top of a minuscule cork was stuck between the cracks in the wooden beams supporting the cushion.

“Why would anyone given the gift of eternal life want to die?” He stared down at her.

At first, she thought his question was rhetorical and kept her focus on the task ahead. She closed the flask by pressing down the lid, then made to leave the alcove pushing on her heels only to find his hand outstretched toward her.

He waited for her to take hold of his hand, then gently helped her out. “Why would a young man, the whole of eternity before him, drink that and jump from a balcony?”

His words penetrated through the barrier she had put in place to deal with situations like that. She repressed the tears wanting to come out, angry at him once again for making her think about Tommaso. All of a sudden, the recorder burned a hole in the pocket of her skirt. She took it out and turned it on. “Alexander Drako, you must come with me to Castel Sant’ Angelo to report to the Council liaison.”