Page 123 of Heart of Stone

I dismissed her protests about calling Gabriella, my preferred sales rep over at Duncan Quinn, to order the things that I needed. Gabriella was an expert in men’s fashion, and she also had contacts at several high-end women’s boutiques. However, making a simple phone call to order clothing for Krystina seemed too impersonal. This was one spending excursion that required my individualized attention.

I called Hale’s cell to tell him to bring the Porsche Cayenne around to the front of my building.

“I’ll have it there within five minutes,” Hale assured. “Where are we going?”

“Fifth Avenue. We’re going shopping.”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

And if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I heard a hint of amusement in his voice.

CHAPTER 34

Surprisingly, shopping for Krystina had been rather enjoyable. From sweaters and skirts, to jeans and boots – the possibilities with women’s clothing seemed endless. Looking at various styles and picturing certain items on Krystina was an experience unlike any other. I was careful with my selections, keeping her tastes above my own. I wanted her to be pleased with my choices and know that I was keeping her interests in mind. And most importantly, I wanted to show her how much I wanted to take care of her, yet still allow her to maintain her individuality.

I knew I was taking a risk. Krystina might be down right furious once she saw everything that I had bought. But I also knew that she might be more apt to accept my gifts if she knew that I personally selected each item.

When I arrived home shortly after six, I was pleased to see that the packages from the day’s spree had been delivered and that Vivian already organized my spacious walk-in closet to accommodate the purchases. It was strange to see the colorful array of cottons, silks, and cashmere hanging next to the line of utilitarian colored suits. Yet, I also derived a certain amount of satisfaction over seeing it, as if I had achieved some kind of great accomplishment.

As I closed the closet doors, the intercom to the penthouse buzzed. I assumed it was Jeffrey letting me know that Krystina had arrived, and it irked me that he hit the call button to announce her arrival. I had given him explicit instructions to simply send her up whenever she came to my home.

“Yes!” I snapped into the intercom.

“Mr. Stone. Ah…I, um Miss –,” Jeffrey started.

Just what I thought.

“Allow Miss Cole into the elevator, Jeffrey. Now please.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. She’s on her way.”

I walked away from the intercom speaker, not bothering to thank him. Whatever patience that I had for the bumbling doorman was starting to run thin.

I waited in the entryway for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, my breath caught in my throat. No matter how many times I saw Krystina, her beauty took my breath away. Her hair was in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck, allowing a few stray curls free to frame her delicate face. Her tight jeans and scoop necked sweater accented every flawless curve of her body.

She was perfect, like a goddess from the heavens. Little had I known that this woman would turn my world upside down when she slipped and fell that day at Wally’s. I wanted her then and I want her even more now – more than I ever wanted any other woman in my life. She was an angel.

My angel.

I closed the distance between us in less than a second and scooped her up under the legs to cradle her my arms.

“Alex! Put me down!” she half scolded and giggled at the same time, swatting at my arm. I ignored her and breathed in the sweet smell of her hair.

“Mmm…not a chance. I missed you,” I murmured into her ear.

“Already?” she laughed.

“Very much,” I admitted before kissing her softly. “You’ve been on my mind all day, angel.”

“Oh, have I? I can only imagine all of the wicked things you were thinking today.”

“Miss Cole, you have no idea.”

I ran my nose down the length of her cheek to nuzzle the sweet spot below her ear. She hummed and closed her eyes, angling her head to the side. I moved back up, savoring the softness of her skin, nipping along the line of her jaw. My teeth grazed her parted lips and I kissed her again, but this time it was long and possessive. She surrendered and gave into my tongue, allowing me to revel in the taste of her.

“I could get used to greetings like that,” she murmured once I gave her a chance to come up for air.

“My girl likes being swept off her feet I take it,” I joked.

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