Page 62 of Emerald Malice

“It’s a long story.” She winks to let me know she’s messing with me. “It involves a stubborn old man, a stubborn, evil old man, and a girl who wasn’t willing to put up with either one.”

“I’m hooked. But promise me there’s a happy ending?”

“That remains to be seen.” She looks me right in the eyes. “I believe in making my own luck, Natalia. You can’t just let life happen to you.”

I observe her with fascination as she turns her face back towards the sun. “I wish I’d met you sooner,” I say. “That advice would’ve come in handy. I’ve spent pretty much my entire existence letting life happen to me.”

She squints at me, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, then, I guess we have to change that, don’t we?”

22

ANDREY

It’s almost midnight when I get home, but the light is still on in the pool house.

I spied Mila and Natalia talking in the garden before I left. According to Leif, they spent hours gabbing on the grass before Natalia invited Mila into the pool house. Mila has already retired to her wing of the manor, so I can’t ask her how the first meeting went.

Shadows skirt past the windows of the pool house every so often. Natalia isn’t just awake; she’s restless.

I spend an inordinate amount of time by the window, waiting for her lights to turn off. If she goes to sleep, the temptation will be gone. Then, pitched by the glow of artificial lights, another shadow shoots across the curtains.

Stay away, stay away, stay away…

I chant the refrain in my head even as I exit the house to walk down to the pool. As I get closer, I can hear music.

Edging towards the open window, I peer inside.

Natalia is dressed in a light-pink tank top and white panties that show more than they conceal.

“… yeah, I wanna dance with somebody… with somebody who loves me…”

As she twists in circles, eyes closed, mouth parted, her tank top rides up, revealing her still-flat stomach.

Her dancing is chaotic and uncoordinated, but there’s a look of rapture on her face that I’ve never seen before. It’s dreamy and uncaring, totally free.

Her hair whips around her head as she spins. She twirls, allowing the music to distract her from whatever it is that’s kept her up this late.

I have the urge to take out my phone and record her.

Not to be an asshole—well, not entirely to be an asshole. But just so that I have something to remember this by. Something I can look back on when I’m alone in my bed. Yet the thought of going back to the main house and taking care of myself again is in-fucking-tolerable.

I don’t want a fucking video.

I want to bury myself balls deep in her and make her moan again.

Which is why I step right up to the window so that she can’t miss me.

It takes a long time for her to notice. Whitney Houston ends on a high note and, as the next tune starts, Natalia turns. When she sees me, she lets out a strangled gasp and fumbles for the robe lying on the bed, making spitting noises like a cat.

“Whatthehell?!” she screeches without pausing between words. She snaps off the music. “How long have you been standing there?”

“You’ve got some nice moves.”

She careens through the door and onto the porch. “I’ve got a mean right hook, too!”

I spread my hands wide. “I’m right here. Swing away.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she snarls. “You have no right to spy on me, you creep!”

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