Page 27 of Skin Deep

I adjusted my tie without looking at him and tried to muscle my way past, but he grabbed me by the shoulder, preventing my escape. I had a knife in my hand and at his throat before he could blink.

“Let me take you out to dinner,” he demanded with my knife at his throat. “I’ll do it right this time. Just you and me. Someplace nice.”

I twisted my lips into a scowl. “Do you really think the best time to ask me out is when I have a fucking knife resting against your carotid artery?”

He smirked. “You could stab me right in the heart and I’d still ask. I love the way you threaten me. Gets me hard every time. Maybe when I blow you, you can hold your cute little knife to my throat and bark orders at me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” What the fuck was wrong withmethat I wanted to take him up on that offer? But he saw right through me.

“I’m horny for some stubborn jackass who can’t accept that he’s into me. What’s your excuse?”

I let out a frustrated growl and lowered the blade, turning away.

“So I’m not hearing a no concerning our date,” he called after me.

I stopped walking. He was a relentless asshole. A relentless asshole who didn’t give two shits that I was a killer, and he kissed like a god.

Fuck, I was so screwed.

I sighed loudly, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Eight o’clock. Wednesday.”

“Where do I pick you up?”

I frowned, turned, and walked back to him, holding out my hand. “Give me your phone.”

He unlocked his phone and slapped it into my palm. I quickly programmed my number into it and sent a text to myself so I’d have his and then gave it back.

“I’ll text you the address,” I told him and walked away again.

“Wear something slutty,” he shouted after me.

I rolled my eyes. God, this man really was going to be the death of me.

Thenextmorning,Iducked out of work at the hospital early to meet Nikita for lunch. He’d chosen a little Polish delicatessen called Zelinski’s near his office. It must’ve been a place he knew well, because he was the only one there, and he had a huge plate of pierogi and another with kielbasa and caramelized onions.

Nikita didn’t look like a Russian mobster, at least not at first glance. For the most part, he could blend flawlessly into American society, as long as one didn’t look too closely at the tattoos on his knuckles. Under the expensive tailored suit, there were dozens more, the marks of the vory life he’d chosen over raising his son. With his slick, dark hair, shadowed eyes, and sharp chin, he must’ve been a force to be reckoned with in the courtroom. He had a presence that demanded attention.

He stood when I approached the table, cleaning his fingers on a napkin. “Hi, Warrick,” he offered in Russian. “How are you? What happened to your lip? Did you get in a fight?”

I ran my tongue over the hole in my lip, wishing he’d stick to the formal register instead of assuming more familiar conversation, but I matched the one he’d chosen, answering him in Russian. It was good to practice, at least. “It’s been a long few days.”

“So I’ve heard from your mother.” He put an arm around me and turned. “Dobry! This is my boy! Look at him, the spitting image of his beautiful mother, yes?”

The elderly clerk behind the counter smiled and nodded.

I gave the old man a curt nod back. God, could he make it any more awkward? “Nikita, please. I only have a short while.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the table, leading me back to it. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of ordering for both of us to save time.”

“I’m not hungry,” I protested, though he ignored me, piling pierogi on the second plate in front of me.

“You know, you could call me Father occasionally. I don’t think it would kill you.” He picked up his tea and sat back on his side of the booth.

“Since when have you ever been a father to me?” I answered coldly.

He frowned. “Warrick, you must understand. I didn’t send you to live with the Laskins when you were ten because you weren’t wanted. It was—”

“To keep me away from Simeon, I know.” I sighed. “We don’t have to have this conversation every time we meet, either. You know my feelings on the matter.”

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