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Chapter Six
IVAN
It is true that I have played a few scenarios in my head of how our first interaction will go, but never could I have dreamed of this. Her, prostrate at my feet. This is perfect. Her face is upturned, her eyes are enormous. They are exactly how I imagined them to be. Full of stormy passion. Her mouth is so full it is like a ripe-red fruit.
Begging me to take it.
I know then: she is not the girl with flowing hair wandering alone on the moors, she is the wild and unpredictable moors itself. Her cover of beautiful purple flowers hides the countless men she has blinded in thick fog and buried in watery graves on her marshes.
She is dangerous, but I’m not afraid. I want to be one of those men. Buried inside her.
I stare at my find almost in disbelief. God, she is beautiful. Much more beautiful in person. To think I entertained the thought she might be underwhelming. The breathing living Lara Fitzpatrick is more sexy, more mesmerizing, and more delicious.I want to reach out and stroke her head. I want her lips to be wrapped around my cock.
But instinct tells me we are natural-born enemies. Ice and fire, black and white, predator and prey, and never the twain shall meet. She knows it too. I see it in her sapphire eyes. She is not going to come easily to me. It will be a fight, but I enjoy a good hunt. An elusive prey. I will have her. No matter what.
“Hello,” she whispers.
“Are you planning on staying down there for the rest of the viewing?”
She jumps up with an embarrassed smile. "I am really sorry about that. There are marbles on these floors. I swear. Invisible marbles."
In real time I watch it click in her head that she is supposed to be selling me the house, not turning me off it. She freezes like a cartoon character. It is an indescribably fuckable little quirk.
"No. Wait,” she says quickly. “I didn't mean the floor is slippery or anything like that. It is a perfectly good floor. Perfect... mid-century stone. One of a kind.” She snaps her mouth shut suddenly and takes a deep breath. “The thing is, Mr. Ivanovich, I’m not as knowledgeable about this house as my colleague Sasha. And the best part is she’s Russian too so I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable with her. She’s waiting on the beach for me so if you’ll just wait one minute I can get her and we’ll do this viewing with the both of us."
"I can understand and speak English, Miss Fitzpatrick," I say dryly.
She swallows hard. "Yes, Mr. Ivanovich. Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest you couldn’t I, uh... It's just that I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible."
"I'm comfortable in six languages, Miss Fitzpatrick," I say, turning away from her to look around the house. I find I have very little interest in it. The subject of my interest is behind me.
"Six? Wow! My apologies. I just wanted to give you our best."
I turn around to look at her. "And you're not it?"
She blinks. “Can I get you a glass of champagne, Mr. Ivanovich?”
“No, Miss Fitzpatrick. I don’t usually start drinking until later in the day.”
“Right.”
She has obviously been caught unawares. Clearly, she was expecting to be a supporting role and not the one taking center stage. I wonder what she would say if she knew that I don't care whether she utters a single word about the house or not. I am going to buy it as long as she gives me what I want.
What would Miss Fitzpatrick say if she knew what I am really here for?
Chapter Seven
LARA
He folds his arms across his chest and waits for my answer, but I am too gobsmacked to respond. Unable even to think straight. Everything about him stuns and disturbs me.
If only I had gone online last night when I got home and researched his name. Found out what he looked like. I will have been somewhat prepared. I will not be standing here gaping at him like a small-brained goldfish. But I was so tired yesterday after running around all day helping to stage this property, and it was well past midnight by the time I got home.
Now as I stand before him tongue-tied and awkward, I remember Sasha talking to someone on the phone about a green-eyed eye candy. No wonder she got all dressed up for this hunk. It explains why she looked at me this morning as if I was not her colleague but the competition.
Start again, Lara. Just start again.
I clear my throat and work up a bright happy smile on my face, but instead of smiling back his dazzling mossy-gold eyes watch me intently.