London.
"That was him, wasn't it?"
Ricardo's low voice intrudes in my thoughts as he comes around to stand beside me. I remain silent, gazing intently at the exit, willing the blue eyed goddess that just disappeared through to make another stunning entrance.
Fuck!
I've had my share of beautiful women but no one rivals the effortless beauty of this dark haired siren. No one even comes close. She looks like a little fucking temptress in that dress. A temptress I would love spread eagle on my bed – bare assed naked.
Her blue eyes sparkle brighter than the famous blue diamond itself. Eyes so expressive, I know she's probably dissecting my personality right about now. I shut my eyes briefly, recalling that split moment when I took notice of her. She had come down from the fancy car just as we drove into the garage. She stood out almost immediately. Like a fucking beacon in the midst of the garage's drab background.
Through the tinted windows of my Aston Martin, my eyes feasted on her plump lips, pulled up in a lopsided grin. I was instantly swamped with insane jealousy when I took notice of the man beside her…with his fucking hands around her. For a moment, I wanted to feel the satisfying thrill of twisting those hands until they cracked beneath the pressure of my palm. It felt like I should be the only reason she smiles…or cries, because with me, pain is inevitable.
I run my palm over my chest in a soothing gesture, trying to ease the blow I suffered when I first set eyes on this complete stranger. I do not care who she is or where she's come from, she'll be mine by the end of the night. I look up at Ricardo,
"What do you think he's doing here?"
Ricardo shrugs,
"I've got no idea, Boss." His gaze sharpen, " Could it be that he beat us to Romanov?"
I eye the garage's entrance again, my fingers balling into fists when I remember the fucker's hands around Blue Eyes.
"Could be." I say, "We have to act fast then. Begin sending out the men to scout the perimeter tommorow. I need reliable Intel on the physical layout of Romanov's mansion, ASAP."
"On it, boss." Ricardo replies, typing furiously on his iPad.
Carlyle Velazquez, the most dangerous sniper within a thousand foot radius of the Mafia would not come to London simply for vacation and relaxation. Probably explains why he was so eager to escape the garage with his mystery woman when he recognized The Familia's Made symbol on our cars.
Finding out what his agenda is would be difficult. From previous alliances with the Italian sniper, I know he's not afraid of anyone... just cautious. But then, who isn't?
Ricardo looks up from his iPad, heaving a tired sigh.
"Just hacked the hotel's data base. There's no reservation for a Carlyle Velazquez on here."
"Have you got Intel on everyone lodging at the hotel and patronising thier restaurant services tonight?"
"Yes, boss. Prepared that before we took off. Security protocols."
Of course he did. Ricardo is quite attentive to detail. He looks back down at his iPad, his lips tightened in concentration.
"Wait, I think I'm onto something."
"What is it?" I ask, elated.
"There's a reservation here under a certain Marcus Carson and Bella Fernandez. It appears that Marcus Carson is an English Language major at the Oxford University but Bella Fernandez apparently does not exist. There's no Intel on her, whatsoever. No tax records, social security numbers…stuff like that. And Marcus is a transfer student from Italy."
Caryle is not only respected in the Mafia for his almost unrivalled shooting abilities. His brain power is second to non.
"He's our guy?" I ask quietly
"He sure is, boss"
"Carlyle would not enroll in a university, adopt a fake identity and relocate to London just for the fun of it. The bastard has something up his sleeves. And the lady. There's absolutely nothing on her?"
"Yep. Nothing. Nada."
"Okay then, Ric. Get the men settle in their suites then come find me downstairs."
"Roger that, boss."
It seems there's more to my mystery Blue eyed goddess than I thought. Why would Carlyle choose to go out with a lady that practically dosen't exist. And under the name Marcus?
My blood heats as images of her smooth, pale thighs, exposed by that little blue dress crosses mind. I adjust the small bulge that begins forming in my slacks. I do not believe I would ever get over those soul wrenching eyes. Eyes I could easily get lost in. Eyes I want to get lost in, I correct myself.
I make my way out of the garage, towards the brightly lit entrance of the hotel's restaurant. Uniformed men bow slightly as the automatic doors slide open. I turn to make sure my men are stationed at vantage points of the hotel. I'm not expecting any surprises tonight but it's better to be safe than sorry. Satisfied, I give the door attendants a slight nod of acknowledgement.
Time to find my Blue Eyes.
************
Marcus and I make our way smoothly through the entrance of the Blue Diamond. We subject ourselves to be searched by the security officials on duty and I heave a sigh when we're waved through.
I almost stop in my tracks when my eyes finally take in the grandiose of the hotel's interior. It's so beautiful, it takes my breath away. Sparkling blues and hushed golds spread as far as the eyes can see.
I finally rivet my gaze when we arrive at our table, smiling my thank you at Marcus when he pushes out the seat and makes sure I'm safely tucked in before pushing it back gently towards the table. His earlier pensive mood is gone. He winks at me, his boyish good looks creased in a grin as he takes his seat. I pause to give the hotel's decor another appreciative glance. The place is simply breath taking. I wonder…
"Eleanor Singh." Marcus says
I look up to find him grinning.
"Excuse me?"
"Your pretty mind is probably wondering who the original interior designer of the Blue Diamond is. Her name's Eleanor Singh. She's an Indian art sensation."
I smile, clearly impressed.
"Should I add mind reading to your long list of supernatural abilities?"
He leans back in his chair, a smug smirk on his lips.
"By all means, my friend."
I shake my head at his antics, my attention once again riveted to the beauty of the hotel's decor. Dim, golden lights decorate the wide, arched ceiling. A large chandelier, arguably the largest I've ever seen dominates the centre of the high ceiling. Wall embedded white lights twinkle from all directions.
The restaurant area is designed so that each table resembles a raised alcove. The whole arrangement gives off a warm, cozy, cocooning feeling.
I look towards the electronic operated doorway and pause, my eyes widening when it clashes on a certain broad shouldered figure. My breath catches in my throat, the earlier tingly feeling coming back with a vengeance. He's standing hunched at the doorway, his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks, eyes roving over the sea of tables in obvious search of something…or someone. And he looks furious.
Even a few short distances away, I can practically feel the potent heat waves that emanate from the giant of a man. I will myself to look away. To lower my eyes and focus on whatever Marcus seems to be going on about, but my mind has a whole different agenda of its own.
I feast my wandering eyes on his person, not surprised at the liquid heat that almost flows from my girly bits. My teeth find my bottom lip involuntarily as I take in the glorious beast of a man. His dark hair glints in the glow of the hotel's bright lights and I'm suddenly struck with the urge to run my fingers over the thick, wavy mass.
He's the physical embodiment of the male sex gods in all of Yulia's romance novels – all six-footed, thickly muscled, part of him. And that suit…oh Godddd. I wriggle in my seat, trying to ease the almost pulsing ache in my groin. I'm glad that non of the hotel's posh patrons can read minds. They would be appalled at the obscenely sexual thoughts I'm harbouring towards a total stranger.
Armani certainly does look good on him. The man has the physique of a fucking Greek god.
His eyes continue to rove over the tables and I sigh, contented to just watch him from afar. Until those sharp gray pools land on me and I grip my thighs with shaky fingers to stop a gasp from slipping out, looking away quickly. Marcus has given up on trying to gain my attention and is now happily perusing the hotel's menu. I look back slowly towards the dark god…and find him still staring intensely at our table – at me.
'Look away, Skylar. Just look away.' I silently tell myself. But my eyes have decided to remain glued to him, outrightly refusing to break eye contact with the tower of sexual hotness a few feet away. He rubs a finger over his lips and in that moment, I would give anything to be close enough to see his eyes. His fingers continue to run lazily over his bottom lip and I can swear that I feel those movements all the way to my core. Lord have mercy but this man should not be allowed to just roam free. He could cause some very serious danger to the needy female population…I inclusive.
I finally muster the strength to look away, turning quickly to check if anyone had caught me practically eye-fucking a total stranger. I'm astonished to find most of the hotel's population looking towards the exits…most of the hotel's female population to be precise. Jealousy clouds my vision as the ladies practically drool at him. I suddenly wish I could bat all their greedy eyes away with my menu.
I look up once more to find that he's been joined by another man. I remember him. He was at the garage as well. They almost look identical in coal black suits and pearl gray ties but the new comer has sandy brown hair and laughing blue eyes. He probably isn't as intense as Mr. Dark and Dangerous over there. Standing together, they exude an almost powerful wave of sexual energy. The other gents in the restaurant probably do not stand a chance. No offense to Marcus, of course.
My gaze clashes with his again to find his mouth pulled in a straight line. The newcomer is saying something to him but his entire attention is on me, and he looks…furious. I take in his clenched fists and narrowed eyes in one swoop. Yes, Mr. Hotness is definitely furious. But at me? What the hell did I do? I'm subtly aware of the part of my mind that tells me to stop naming the poor man after my unhealthy sexual perversions but I'm past listening to reason at this point.
Oh, and nothing about this man appears poor.
From his healthy, dark hair, beautifully tanned skin – how can a man have such beautiful skin?, his clothes, down to his leather Oxfords. He looks like he rolled in a million quid before coming here. He's probably one of the stiff, wealthy American men that come to London in their numbers for vacation.
I lift my eyes from his multidollar shoes, making a trail past his long legs, broad chest and finally, his eyes. I almost die from shock when I find his lips stretched in a roguish grin. The bastard had noticed my not -so-subtle scrutiny all along. My cheeks heat in embarrassment and I look away Immediately. Great job, Skylar. Now Mr. Devilishly Handsome can safely add me to his long list of admirers. It takes great efforts to stop myself from kicking my shin under the table.
Just then, Marcus snaps his fingers in my face and I jump with a startled curse.
"What have you been looking at for the past ten minutes, sweetnesss?"
I give him a wide eyed stare.
"Wh-what? Nothing. Nothing at all."
Marcus leans back in his seat with a deep chuckle.
"Nothing? But your cheeks are burning the reddest I've ever seen 'em. Common, Skylar, you know you can tell me."
I frown at him.
"You noticed all this time?"
"Of course I did. There I was, giving a historical analysis of the food served by this fine establishment, not aware that my audience of one had her attention focused on more interesting sights. You barely answered my questions so yeah, I noticed. The waiter came and left and you still didn't pay any attention. Now, sweetness, what on Earth was it? And do not worry, I ordered all your favourite wine brands."
I lower my eyes to the table, trying to regain my equilibrium, only to raise them a few seconds later to find Marcus still regarding me with a smug smile. What the hell is so funny anyways? I pick up my glass of wine, subtly noting that I never saw when the wine was served. I down the contents in one gulp.
The ice cold, fritzy, delicious taste hits the back of my throat and I almost regret that I hadn't slowed down to savour the exquisite blend.
"Well, what is so funny then, Marcus? Would you love to share?"
"You are" he replies with a grin.
"I am?" I'm beyond exasperated at this point.
"Of courses, m'lady. What the heck has your panties in such a twist?"
"Well, if you must know," I begin crossly, "there's an incredibly handsome young man just by the exit. Two incredibly handsome young men to be precise."
Marcus throws back his head and laughs, his eyes twinkling with mirth. I smile around my second glass of wine, careful to savour this one.
"Glad to see my situation amuses you, Marcus."
He leans towards the table,
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. So, is this…I'm sorry, are these incredibly handsome young men still by the doors"
I lower my glass on a sigh.
"I don't know, Marcus. Had to stop staring because I was this," I pinch my thumb and fore finger to demonstrate, "close to being labelled a pervert."
Marcus just keeps grinning. His amusement is starting to rub off on me. I can almost feel the tingles that rocked my frame from Mr. Ravishing's intense gaze disappear…almost.
"Okay. I'll have to see for myself then."
He turns towards the exit while I make a show of fiddling with the restaurant's lace embroidered napkins – beautiful stuff by the way. I'm stunned when he returns his gaze to me and begins laughing in earnest. What now? I look at him in dismay. He does not find the dark god and his friend handsome?
"Why are you still laughing, Marcus?"
He pauses to take gulps of the air conditioned air.
"Why, Skylar, I would've never pegged you for one with interests in…ah, how do I say this, advanced men."
Horrified, I whip my head towards the exits to find two old boys having a conversation, heads bent, white hair glinting in the overhead lights. I almost suffer a whiplash. My cheeks burn and I nearly choke on a mouthful of wine. I turn back to find Marcus doubled over in another bout of laughter. The croon.
"Marcus, I can swear there was a hot man over there just now. Two of them, to be precise." I say in desperation.
"I hear you, Sweetness. I hear you."
I almost pull my hair in frustration. It is obvious he only 'hears' me. He does not believe me. I'm suddenly struck by an insight.
"Yes! He's the guy we saw at the garage. You know, the one that arrived with a million guards?" I add with a little eye roll. I've learnt from living with my father that one does not need that much guarding.
"Remember him, Marcus?" I ask smugly. I'm not delusional and neither do I posses an old men fetish after all.
For a moment, it feels like a chill passes over our table. Marcus drops his glass and leans back in his chair, fixing me with a hard stare.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"What guy are you talking about?" He asks quietly.
Well, this is weird.
"You know, the guy back at the garage earlier…"
"Stay away from him." Marcus cuts in.
I'm taken aback at his harsh tone.
"Um…why? Do you know him?"
For a minute, he almost looks panicked.
"No. Not at all. He just seems…dangerous."
I heave a sigh, relieved that Marcus is only concerned about my well-being.
"You do not have to tell me twice." I mutter. Mr. Devilish does look absurdly intense.
Just then, the waiter arrives, taking our orders with smooth professionalism and replacing our empty bottle of wine with new glasses of sparkling water. He arrives with our food a moment later. White ceramic dishes filled with mouth watering food are offloaded onto the table. The meal looks so artfully arranged, I almost feel guilty when I spear it with my fork.
A full smoked Salmon, slathered with olive oil and spices. Rice cooked to perfection and decorated with choice leafy vegetables and a mouthwatering bowl of gravy sauce. A huge slice of the softest chocolate cake, for dessert and all kinds of sea food…stuffed with potatoes and grilled cheese.
Marcus knows food is my one weakness. He's obviously decided to indulge me. I take a forkful of the salmon and almost orgasm on the spot, closing my eyes to savour the rich flavour.
"That good, huh?" Marcus asks.
"Mm–hmm." Is all the reply I can muster. Too busy trying to feed more delicious salmon to my taste buds. We make quick work of the food, all thoughts of a particularly ravishing, gray – eyed beast momentarily forgotten. I seat back in my chair after a while, enjoying the last piece of chocolate cake. We've successfully polished off all traces of food within the vicinity. I feel so full, my seams must be bursting.
"You know how to tuck your food away." Marcus comments. " I like that."
Most women would consider this an insult but what can I say, I do love food.
"Thank you for that very thoughtful observation, Marcus. I've never been afraid of having a bit of meat on my bones."
And that is just God's honest truth. Most London women are thin to the point of disappearing. Not me though. I love my plump ass, sizable breasts and thick thighs just fine.
"You're welcome. Wanna dance?"
I widen my eyes in absolute horror.
"Honestly? No shit?" I ask
He grins,
"Sure."
"Marcus," I grind out, "I've just eaten a mountain of very delicious food. Give a girl a break, will ya?"
"Of course. I apologise, your honour. Take all the time you need."
I groan. He's not so subtly reminding me that we do not have all night. I still have to be home before dawn.
I smile at the waiter as he clears away the dishes, sending my compliments to the chef. We sit back and relax while watching couples on the dance floor sway to the soft music that comes from the hired band.
Marcus and I continue making small talk, mostly about the grandeur of the hotel until I feel the tingles again at the back of my neck. I've been trying to ignore them for a while now but it clearly dawns on me.
I'm being watched.
