Music thumped in a firm, steady beat—like a pulse—throbbing between the exposed brick walls. Dim lighting bounced off polished wood floors and sculpted tin ceiling, the kind of venue that was coolly dignified without trying too hard to impress.
She cast a quick smile as the hostess returned with her drink, a hibiscus and ginger infused mezcal martini and climbed up the narrow steps to the space between coat check and the restrooms overlooking the dance floor.
There, out of sight, she took the first testing sip and hummed with approval. It was sharp, sweet and sour with a firm kick at the end. Perfect. She sipped again, ginger warming her throat, hibiscus cooling her tongue. And watched Isobel, locked in conversation at the booth with an Asian in Tom Ford. They sat close enough so to talk without having to shout at one another.
They were closer now. So much closer.
And the sparks of attraction broke off them like waves against the shore. Hard, rolling and powerful. Scheisse, this was one hell of a matchup. No wonder Isobel couldn't hold her focus for more than a few straggling seconds before getting sucked back under. They'd barely sat down for all of twenty minutes before her head had been turned. When Priya had called her out on it, to her credit, she didn't whip her head around to look, but the strong blush rising in her cheeks had always been Isobel's tell.
I can't continue to view what happened with Kyle as a loss; I can't lose someone who didn't want to be a part of my life, Isobel had said when Priya questioned whether she was ready to take the first shaky step back into the dating pool. And you know what? Not everyone deserves to be. He didn't deserve to be.
The guy was gorgeous. And she knew a thing or two about losing herself within potent attraction. What she experienced with Hadrian was no small thing, despite all efforts to pretend otherwise, she was attracted to him in a way she couldn't explain...
He was an obstacle—a distraction she couldn't afford to cloud her focus, but knowing that didn't stop the whoremones. All he had to do was walk into a room and everything went hot, jittery—despite hitting the sheets with whoever else she could get her hands on, nothing cooled the need for him.
Isobel tucked her pin straight hair, blown out and glossy, behind her ear. A climber earring following the curve and highlighting its delicate shape as she slid into a rather passionate lip-lock. Pleased and more than little proud, Priya sank her teeth into her bottom lip, and barely resisted the urge to squeal.
"Kids," she sighed, dashing away a not entirely imaginary tear, "they grow up so fast." Smirking devilishly, she swirled the straw in her martini, rattling cubes of champagne ice. Neither of them were coming up for air anytime soon. A quick scan of the dance floor put her mind at ease. Isobel's guy hadn't come alone, and had required some stellar wing woman moves to lure them away for the two to have a moment alone.
After twenty minutes of dancing, followed by a classic bait and switch at the bar, Priya had passed off the duo to a small group of young girls with low standards provided it led to free drinks, and the guys themselves were more than happy to have more than a single girl between them. The handover had been flawless. A total win-win.
She thought she'd gotten away unseen until a hard body snaked up next to her in the empty upper level corridor.
"Hello Tiger."
Jerking hard as the sound of his voice sent a flurry of wicked chills to race across her spine, she glanced up at Hadrian, masking her surprise behind a frown. Scheisse! Think of Devil and apparently he will appear.
"Hey." Priya swallowed thickly. There was no point asking him what he was doing in the hottest lounge in Manhattan—it was developing a fierce reputation for bringing out the best of the best in the city, of course he'd be here.
"I thought that was you. Who are you spying on?"
"No one."
"Ah, then maybe you were looking for me, too."
"I'm keeping an eye on my girlfriend," she said, elbowing him back a step when he got close enough for her to catch the heady musk of his cologne. "The brunette at the second booth from the left.
Hadrian's eyes tracked across the room, then his brows popped when finding his mark. "I think it's safe to say she's in good hands."
Priya laughed. They weren't kissing anymore, but anyone with eyes could see the two were lost in each other. "Yeah, I'd have to agree."
Turning his back to the dance floor, Hadrian leaned back against the glass panelled wall and crossed his arms across his chest. "Have to say, Tiger, you've got some nice moves."
She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug though her pulse kicked up a pace at the thought of him having watched her dancing, to have witnessed that moment where she'd been sucked into song and synergy—as she often was—when her eyes closed and her body lost itself. All inhibitions and insecurities. She was never so free in any other facet of her life than she was on a dancefloor. "Dancing is my second love."
"I wasn't talking about those moves, even if they were pretty remarkable." He lifted his phone and flashed the screen for her to see where the homepage of the New York Times was up and open on a featured article.
"Multimillionaire Manhattan landlord is accused of terrorizing tenants and now subject of Attorney General Investigation." Leaning against the wood panelled wall, Hadrian brought his hands together in a slow clap. "Impressive stuff, Tiger."
Between the partners and associates whom used the candidate pool as their own personal grunts, she hadn't had much time or opportunity to race down to the newsstand outside the lobby and snatch one before she'd left to grab Isobel from the airport.
Plucking the phone from his hands, Priya's eyes danced over the article as she scrolled and couldn't contain the self-satisfied smile.
State Attorney General has launched a probe into the potential violations of city and state laws, including numerous infractions related to tenant harassment by Crowley Realty to force rent-stabilized tenants out of their valuable apartments. Attorney General spokeswoman, Melinda Gupal, vows that action will be taken against landlords who use illegal tactics to force out rent-regulated tenants from their homes.
"We are committed to ensuring that no one—no matter how rich or well connected—is above the law."
Priya resisted the urge to hug the phone to her chest.
"Me thinks the Cat Lady cases is proving to be more interesting then you thought," he said, amused by her barely contained glee.
She lifted an unaffected shoulder as she handed back the iPhone. "Maybe."
Hadrian waited a beat, but when she failed to extend beyond that one, innocuous word, he reached over and gave her shoulder a playful shove. "That's all you have to say?"
"Why should I?" she assessed him over the curve of her shoulder, chin raised a notch. "It's not like you've told me all about your case." And if she sounded a bit bitter, Priya imagined
"I would," he vowed, hand set over his heart, "if someone thought to ask me. Be nice, Tiger," he added with a rueful twist of his lips. "Sharing is caring."
Priya sighed with a dramatic eye roll and though she feigned being annoyed, in truth she was happy to talk to someone about the case—someone who'd understand and appreciate the finer details without needing the minutia clarified. There was nothing worse than face-timing with the Sisters and watching their eyes glaze with boredom as she tried to explain the legalese.
Swivelling where she stood, Priya crossed her arms. The colour combination of her navy slacks accented with blood red pumps similarly echoed in Hadrian's choice of cranberry blazer and navy shirt. A detail she tried to ignore. "What do you know about Timothy Crowley?"
"Prior to reading the article, not much," Hadrian confessed. Arms crossed he lowered to the cornered edge of her cubicle desk, eyes narrowing in thought. "He's philanthropist. Often attends various fundraisers and charity events. The most recent, I think, was Tribeca. Supposedly he's very generous of his time and even more so with his money."
"Likely for the tax write-offs," she said, tone dry and dropped her arms. "I researched a building he acquired six months before moving on to the brownstones in the East Village, and he tenant's paid little over twelve hundred. Now? Those same units rent for six thousand."
Hadrian whistled. "Hell of a mark-up."
"Right? He owns. How many times do you want to bet he's done this before? Can you imagine?" The possible numbers she'd worked over last night were staggering. Too high a number for her to successfully track down and convince any potential client whom may have escaped signing away the right to join the case. Crowley might portray himself as a philanthropist, but in truth he was a wealthy and connected bully. And the first step to dealing with a bully was to stand your ground, as Genie had done by reaching out to MNS.
Next, came a show of strength.
Priya had started that ball rolling with the investigation and today, she'd issue a 'cease and desist' order on Crowley's ex-NYPD muscle he used to brow beat his tenants. If she got lucky, between the two, hopefully that would be the end of it. Crowley would have to eat a bit of crow and Genie would walk away with a clean victory. No more hassle or grief and maybe she'd even get a small payout to compensate for damages incurred due to landlord 'negligence' (because harassment was too hostile and honest a word to encourage a man to swallow his pride.)
Though her gut said Genie wasn't going to settle with a simple slap on the wrist, and would push for a court hearing. Even with all the personal statements Priya had reviewed, most were circumstantial at best and inadmissible before a judge as hearsay. Any defense attorney worth his degree could punch holes in her case like a fist through paper. If she kept things out of court, she could use them to apply pressure with the AG and make life a little difficult for Crowley, but it would stick like an old band aid—hold for maybe a few seconds before falling off, no matter how hard she pressed.
If she'd had more to go to war with than Genie, maybe she'd stand a chance to face a judge, but as it were those whom had bowed out of the fight had done so while signing a settlement agreement.
"What's your next plan of action?"
"Why do you want to know?"
The line of his body shifted as he unfastened the buttons of his blazer, his voice lowered in concern. "We're still playing for the same team, aren't we?"
"Are we?" She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't exactly keep me appraised of the time change for case selection."
"That's not fair." His shoulders slumped at her rebuke. "Everyone was blind-copied on the memo and there was no way I could know you were left out of the loop until it was too late."
She snorted. "For all I know it was you. It would be smart move. Play the sheep in wolf's clothing."
"I wouldn't do that." Dark brows lowered, but otherwise his gaze didn't as much as flicker. "Not when I think we stand to gain more from working together than against each other. If it makes you feel better, I did some digging. Got the name of the persons responsible for cutting you out."
Fire sparked in her belly. "Who?"
Priya had never considered herself a vengeful individual, but when it came to the pursuit of her goals, anyone whom so much as stepped on her toes would have to answer for it. Litigation was a tough business, and if she couldn't hold her own in a pool of graduates, she could never hope to swim in open waters with the sharks. It wasn't about fighting dirty—but fighting for survival.
"I've got this one covered, Tiger. It's my turn to get my hands dirty," he said, head angled with an expression sliding over his face that made all kinds of things happen inside of her body. And not all of them were sexual.
She'd hoped by now she'd have grown accustomed to the way he looked at her, and to the way her body would alternate with flashes of heat and spikes of cold, those thrilling little rushes that heralded chemistry and attraction, but each day it stole her breath just the same.
There was no getting used to a man like Aurelio Hadrian Marek.
He was a tempest. Beautiful to look at, compelling and breathtaking, but dangerous to get close to. A veritable force of nature against which there was no fortification.
He came, he saw and he conquered. Priya didn't stand a chance.
Pushing away from the glass wall, Hadrian took her by the hand and, with a quick jerk and spin, dragged her around behind him and into the curtained area of coat-check. Empty, with no attendant at the post, not that there would be. It was the balmy birthing of summer and not a coat to be seen. They were alone in here. Isolated.
The curtain floated shut behind him, a heavy drape of blood red velvet, stealing away most of the light. Only when Hadrian dragged his teeth over his bottom lip did she knew she was in serious trouble. "Ever make out in coat-check?"
"No." For every step she took back, he advanced, steering her down the long stretch empty racks with hangers. Deeper into the rabbit hole.
"Wanna?" His hand reached out and brushed along the rack and sent the hangers to tinkle softly chime.
Yes! "No."
"Liar." It was dark enough she couldn't see his face quite clearly, but she heard his dark chuckle, saw the flash of it light in his eyes.
"We can't do this. We could get caught." Her back met a wall and his hands planted on either side, caging her in between. Instinctively hers shot out to brace against him, but she was torn. Push or pull?
Her hands ached to score all over his body as she set palms firmly against his chest, imagined letting them slide lower to his abs—the impressive wall of muscles beneath the layers of clothing. And though she pulled them away, the burning look in his eyes said he knew exactly what she'd been thinking.
"So?" He leaned in closer, his lips skimming her ear with a hot whisper, "Go ahead. Touch me. Anywhere you want. I won't stop you."
A delicious, dark tremor rippled through her from the seductive whisper of his lips against her skin. And when his teeth followed, there was no holding in the hungry groan. Hearing it, Hadrian chuckled softly.
"This is a really bad idea."
"Life without risk is not a life worth living," His hands framed her face, angling her gaze up to his. Powerful, dark and mysterious. "Your eyes are ridiculous. They're so intense. Bewitching. Every Time I look at you I'm spellbound."
Lust spiked hard from her belly and her knees almost buckled. "Hadrian—"
"You might not remember the night we met," his thumb scored across her bottom lip, silencing her, "but I do. And I can't stop thinking about it. Kiss me. Prove me a liar and that everything I remember was only a fluke. Aren't you even a little bit curious?"
Oh, she was more than curious. She was ravenous. Boarder-line desperate. A single, punctuated breath was all that separated her from rationality and desire. Desire won.
Hands sliding around his neck she dragged him down. Took him fast. So fast. Quick lips, warring tongues. Hot hands, strong arms and weak legs.
Starved. Wild.
And yet for as much as she took she gave and gave and gave. Trapped between a hard wall and harder man, she moaned, sighed as his lips broke from hers to blaze a scorching trail down her throat as his hands wandered and seized—discovered. But with an edge of familiarity that said he'd touched her before and remember how and where exactly to drive her wild.
From breast to waist to hip, and everywhere he touched burned.
"You told me once, to make myself clearer next time. Consider this me being clear. Come home with me," he whispered, sliding in for another kiss, this one slower but no less staggering. "My home. My bed." He breathed through a wicked chuckle. "My rules. I want you in a hundred different ways, Priya. From now until sunrise. Let me."
Hands in his hair, she anchored him as she sucked hard on that full bottom lip, pulled with a needy bite. She wanted to eat him alive. Hunger coiled in her belly. Excitement rippled in her chest. But sense—sense was a cold dousing blanket over her burning skin. She might want him with the ferocity of a thousand suns, but Priya prided herself on strength of will and everything she'd said only a moment ago still reigned true. Sex with a work colleague was always a bad idea.
And sex with a colleague who was also competition spelled disaster.
"I can't." Needing space, she nudged him off her and without hesitation Hadrian let her go. Stepping back, he slid his hands into his pockets, probably to keep from reaching for her again. His dark golden eyes shone with lust, with desire, and it thrilled her to know she could affect him so much and yet he'd listened.
He'd obeyed.
Not many would, under similar circumstances.
Scheisse, she was weak and breathless. She turned from him, unable to face the heat in his eyes, knowing all it would take was the barest push and she'd cave like a house built on a weak foundation. "If we're going to be allies, Hadrian, there have to be ground rules. No sex. No flirting. No sexual contact of any kind. We need to be focused. Professional."
His lips skewed to the side with a playful grimace. "Hard-line on that, huh?"
"Firm."
"No wiggle room?"
"None." A laugh itched to tickle its way out of her at his heavy sigh.
"Let me give you my number, in case you change your mind." His hands encircled her hips and whipped her around so her back was flush against him.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he slipped something from out of his inner jacket pocket.
"Shhh." His breath whispered against her ear and a playful nip of teeth followed, putting that firm resolve of hers to the test.
"I have a phone."
"It's more fun this way." He dragged her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck to a stroke of lips that had her eyes rolling shutting. She shivered as the pen pressed to her skin with demanding lines and her fingers curled, nails scraping the wall, as he blew a cool breath over his handiwork, sealing the ink.
"There." He adjusted her hair to its original position, draping the glorious length over her shoulder. "Our little secret."
Priya turned around on weak knees, slowly. Carefully. "How am I supposed to see it from back there?"
Capping the pen, Hadrian tucked it away and laughter danced in his wicked eyes. "Get creative." And paused when he reached the curtain, dragging it aside as he eased out into the corridor. "Think about me tonight. Think about me wanting you. Suffering."
And let the curtain fall.
#
"There you are."
Slotting her phone away in her clutch, Priya joined Isobel outside the front doors of Exquisite and looped her arm around her Sister's waist. "Sorry, I was tangled up in...something."
Isobel leveled her gaze, brown eyes softening with interest, and there was something else in them—something Priya hadn't seen in a while: the sparkle of excitement. It warmed her cheeks and tugged at the corners of her lips, giving her already beautiful face a captivating glow.
"What's his name?"
"Hideo Ogaki," Isobel said, voice hushed for discretion.
"And where does he work?"
"He—oh, here, I have his business card." Fumbling in her small, square wristlet, she pulled out a slick white card, elegant script, metallic logo and expensive thick stock. Priya studied the company name and details. She knew the place and let out a low whistle of appreciation. This wasn't a low-level grunt, but a VP. Impressive.
"Good. Text me when you know where you're going," Priya whispered, hugging her tight. "And have fun. Lots and lots of wild, dirty fun."
Isobel giggled, her soft blush deepening. "I can't believe I'm doing this."
"You deserve it." Priya gave her a final squeeze as Hideo joined them, phone in his hand. A silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb, a valet slipped out to open the passenger door. And like a consummate gentleman, helped Isobel in and gallantly closed the passenger door behind her before assessing Priya.
"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"
"I don't do threesomes."
"I didn't—I wasn't—" He laughed, almost boyish in his embarrassed bafflement, and it became instantly obvious there was so much more than his handsome face tugging on Isobel. "I only meant it wouldn't be much trouble to see you home. Alone," he finished quickly.
"I know, relax, I'm messing with you. Consider this your initiation with the Sisterhood." Reaching up, Priya pulled him into a friendly hug. "Keep in mind I've seen you face and know your name and your place of employment. If anything happens to her under your watch, I'll hold you personally accountable. She's your responsibility until she crosses my threshold, got it?" She drilled a pointed finger into the center of his chest.
"Of course."
"And don't mistake Isobel for something she's...not," she said carefully, hoping that the obvious point of fact didn't need to be spelled out any further than it already was, and didn't care if her stern warning involved stepping on his toes. This was her last chance to vet him and if necessary, abort what was about to happen.
Anyone who couldn't see the kind of gem Isobel was—didn't deserve to f*cking have her. Not again.
"She must be truly remarkable to inspire such dedication," he said, without a hint or irony or annoyance.
"She's the best. The very best. The last of a dying breed. Be good to her."
"I will. I promise." Warmth and sincerity slid across his features. A gentleman through and through.
The edges of her doubt eased with a smile. "I believe you."
Priya remained curb-side and watched as the Mercedes rolled out into the street and took off, a bit like an emotional mom, stressed with worry but also proud to see Isobel striking out on her own. Taking hold of what she wanted and needed, without hesitation, or apology.
All she could do was help Isobel cast off her training wheels, watch as she set out on her own path, and be there to help her back up if she toppled over.
Getting hurt was always a possibility, but that was the price of living.
A second later her phone chimed, and as requested, there was a message from Isobel with Hideo's address.
Isobel: Here are the details: Hideo Ogaki One57 Building, 57th St Manhattan. Suite 4223
Priya: Oh young grasshopper has grown up and graduated to Praying Mantis. Momma's so proud. Have fuuuuunnn!! ;)
As she sent out a quick reply, the wind teased her hair, her neck, reminding her of her own little secret, threatening to expose it to the world. Each brush and stroke or shifting strands kept her thoughts centered on Hadrian—which is exactly what he'd wanted.
So much so that when she got home, she'd spent twenty minutes with two mirrors and bent at various awkward angles as she struggled to decipher the backwards numbers; giggling and cursing the day he was born the whole damn time.
Think about me tonight. Think about me wanting you. Suffering.
Well, it worked. She was thinking about him.
A lot.
**A/N**
Hey guys,
That moment with Hadrian and Priya (writing his number on her neck) is one I've been dying to get to. Originally it was supposed to come a lot sooner in the story (very shortly after we meet Mr. Panty-Thief himself), but funny how plans don't always go the way we want them to.
For those of you wondering what went down with Isobel, don't worry - two bonus chapters are on the way to show everything from her POV including all the smexy, steamy goodness between her and her hottie.