Necromancist, p.6
Necromancist, page 6
A girl in the front pulled down her top to expose the curve of her breast and held out a marker to Ivan. “Will you sign me?”
Ivan signed his name over the top of her boob and drew a smiley face precariously close to her nipple.
Looking down at the autograph, the blonde screamed in such a shrill voice Alice’s ears rang.
The girl jumped up and down. “Oh, my God!”
A redhead in the front stripped off her shirt. “I love you big time, Ivan!”
At last, Ben pulled the company Bentley up on the curb. They pushed their way through the pressing bodies, Donald doing his best to open a path and wave the clawing hands away from Ivan.
“Marry me, Ivan!”
“I want to have your babies, love.”
A card was pushed into his face. “Call me, tonight. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Smartphones flashed as photos were snapped.
Ivan opened the back door and pushed Alice inside before getting in next to her. Donald scurried into the front seat.
Alice leaned back when Ben pulled away. Girls ran next to the car until Ben changed lanes and could speed up.
“What the fuck?” Ben glanced at them in the rearview mirror. Directing the question at Alice, he said, “Is this what you call a discreet meeting?”
“Ben,” Ivan said with a warning tone. “Don’t take it out on her.”
Donald shot Alice an accusing look from over his shoulder. “We should’ve had the interview at your place, Ivan. I told you this was a bad idea.”
“I’m sorry,” Alice said. “Someone must’ve leaked information that we’d be here.”
Ben’s voice was clipped. “Sorry ain’t cutting it. Maybe you don’t understand the seriousness of the situation, but we can’t protect him if we’re surrounded by hundreds of people who aren’t supposed to be there. Anyone could’ve had a gun.”
“They didn’t,” Ivan said, “so ease up.”
Donald turned in his seat. “Excuse me for pointing this out, but you’re receiving threat letters and there’s been more than one attempt on your life. An uncalculated risk like this,” he jabbed his finger on the window, “is the kind of trouble you want to avoid. I’m thinking this show isn’t such a good idea. The theater sucks at security.”
“It could’ve been someone from the newspaper,” Alice said defensively.
Donald swung his finger to point at her. “If he’d been shot today, lady, it would’ve been on your head.”
She looked at the buildings rolling by, seeing a red shoe at the bottom of a staircase.
Her fault. A death on her head.
Ivan gripped her chin and turned her face to him. “You okay?”
“More than one attempt, huh?”
His smile was grim. “Fame always comes with a price.”
She thought about her mother and the price she’d paid, but pushed it from her mind. “Kate did a good job of keeping it out of the media. How did she manage?”
“Connections. The police also reckoned giving the stalker media attention wasn’t going to help their case.”
“Do you think whoever’s doing it is doing it for publicity?”
He traced the line of her jaw with a thumb. “Maybe. Who knows?”
His touch evoked a shiver, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he affected her. “Where did it happen?”
“Once was outside the Mariinsky hall in Saint Petersburg. Luckily, the shooter was a terrible shot. The bullet hit the wall. The second time was at the pool of my hotel in New York, but the only damage done was to a plant pot.”
“That’s horrible.”
He dragged his thumb down the curve of her neck to her shoulder. The touch had gone from soothing to something deeper. Up to now, she could pretend his caress didn’t matter, but this was going somewhere it shouldn’t.
She took his hand and put it back in his lap. “Why do you do it?”
His gaze moved to her lips. “Do what?”
“Why do you still perform if you know there’s a killer out there just waiting for the right opportunity to pull the trigger?”
“I can’t put my life on hold because of fear.”
“Is it worth it, the price you have to pay?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his contrasting eyes darkening respectively to chocolate and midnight.
Anger flared inside of her at the thought of the sacrifice her family had paid for her mother’s chase after fame. “What is so great about being famous that makes it worth your life?”
“It’s not about fame.”
“Is it the money?”
He shook his head. “Money is part of it, but that’s not the main aim.”
“Then what is?”
“You. All of this is because of you.”
She blinked several times. Either she hadn’t heard right or he was crazy. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he put a finger against her lips.
“Don’t say it.”
“What?” she whispered, almost too afraid to speak for the fear that the tip of his finger would sink into her mouth when she parted her lips.
“If you’re going to tell me I’m mad, don’t say it. Don’t lie to me either and tell me that wasn’t what you were thinking.”
“I don’t make a habit of lying to people.”
He pressed down on her bottom lip. “Only to yourself?”
She stared into his eyes. Blood pumped through her veins and sped up her heart. Heat spread down her neck and tightened her breasts until her nipples tingled. She was intensely aware of the spot where he pushed his thigh against hers. A mix of shock and excitement too much like forbidden lust rushed through her. The sensations he evoked were even stronger than when they’d been teenagers.
She jerked her head to the side to escape his touch. “To no one.”
“You’re lying to yourself, now.”
“About what?”
“Telling yourself Henry is the security you need. Telling yourself you don’t want to kiss me.”
“You think you can read my mind?” she asked with a sarcastic laugh.
His gaze trailed in a slow path over her body, heating her skin with a flush in the wake of the visual caress. He set her on fire without even touching her.
“I don’t have to read your mind. Your body tells me everything I need to know.”
She blew out a puff of air. “I’m not one of your fainting fans, Ivan.”
“Clearly not.” In one, swift movement, he turned in his seat and threw his thigh over her legs to straddle her lap.
Crying out in surprise, she pushed on his shoulders. “What are you doing?”
“Collecting a promise I made myself in the elevator.”
She could only gape for a second before leaning to the side to look over his shoulder. “Ben—”
“Relax, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.”
Donald twisted around. “Ivan, are you out of your fucking mind?”
Ivan ignored him, holding her eyes. “I promise you, though, before this concert is over, you will beg me to kiss you and a whole lot more.”
“Stop the car,” she said.
Ben glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Ivan? What the hell?”
Ivan lowered his head. “Ben, Donald, eyes in the front, please. I’m going to kiss Ms. Jones now and some privacy will be appreciated.”
“The only thing you’ll kiss is my ass,” she snapped.
“Gladly. I’ll eat it for you, too.”
He moved one hand between the seat and her back, pushing her to his chest, while he curled the other around the nape of her neck. His lips didn’t touch hers, but his closeness was enough to make her dizzy. The clean smell of soap and fresh linen wrapped around her while warmth seeped from his body into hers. With a palm on the small of her back, he shifted her forward an inch, just enough for his hard-on to press against the juncture of her legs. Despite the position, there was nothing demanding or urgent in the way he held her. For a moment, she wanted to forget Donald and Ben, but mostly herself, and give over to the powerful sensations coursing through her body, but even as his embrace was all give and no take, this was about him, about proving a point.
She pushed away, her breathing labored. “Get off.”
He complied, lifting his leg over her and sitting back down in his own seat.
“Ben, stop the car,” she said. “You’re not authorized to drive it.”
Ben glanced at Donald, who nodded. Her door was open before he’d pull onto the curb.
Chapter 3
For the rest of the way, Alice drove them in silence, gripping the steering wheel hard so the men wouldn’t see how her hands were shaking. All her intentions to remain unmoved had been shot to hell. Her overheated body was proof of that, as well as her temper that fluctuated between annoyance and anger. Mostly annoyance. Ivan had managed to shatter her perfect composure in less than a second with as little as a touch. To regain her calm, she pretended he didn’t exist and she didn’t feel his eyes burning at the back of her head.
Inside the underground parking of the theater, Ivan caught her wrist before she could get into the elevator.
“We need to talk.”
She pulled her arm free. “I have nothing to say to you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve got plenty to say.”
“You lost that right nine years ago when you walked out on me without as much as a word, no explanation, no excuse.” She added quietly, “Including the right to touch me.”
Ben, who stood a step behind them with Donald, laid a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. “Let it go, man. The lady said no.”
Ivan shook off Ben’s touch without breaking eye contact with her. “You want explanations? You want excuses? I have a few excuses to collect myself, so let’s say what needs to be said. This will be your one and only chance to talk about what happened, because there’s one thing you have to understand. I’m back to collect. From now on, there’ll only be going forward.”
She stared at him in shock. “You’ve changed.”
“You bet I have. All thanks to you, Princess.” He said the old term of endearment with disdain, as if it were a curse.
She winced. “I don’t know you, anymore.”
“Damn right, again.”
Under his brutal stare, she turned her back on the men and pressed the button to call down the elevator. It gave her the minute she needed to compose herself. By the time the door opened, her back was straight and her mask in place.
She stepped inside and held the door for them. “I’ll take you to the choreography studio.”
Ivan’s smile promised anything but compliance, but he didn’t argue.
They rode to the ground floor in strained silence, Ben and Donald shooting frowns at Ivan. In the foyer, Ivan asked his bodyguards to wait by the main exit.
Donald gave Alice a worried look.
She nodded at the two men. “It’s all right. I know how to handle him.”
“Is that right?” Ivan asked with another one of his smirks, this time one that held a challenge.
Instead of answering, she swiped her access card and led Ivan through the corridor to another elevator that gave access to the lower level studios. They exited on the wardrobe floor, but when Alice took the turn for the dance studio, Ivan grabbed her shoulders, twisted her around, and pushed her toward one of the storerooms.
“What are you doing?” she cried out.
He opened the door and shoved her inside. She stumbled a step when he let go, her back colliding with a vanity counter stocked with wigs. The door slammed behind them, vibrating in the frame. Darkness drowned out her vision, but a second later, the overhead light buzzed to life. Ivan advanced on her in the small space, pushing the portable clothes rail with costumes out of his way.
She clutched the counter behind her and leaned back as he closed the distance between them. Her heart was beating in her throat but not from fear. She wasn’t scared of Ivan. She knew he wouldn’t harm her. She was frightened of the effect he had on her. Being closed in a small room with him while his male presence dominated all her senses made her body hum to life like the light softly thrumming above them. She’d bargained on many emotions—anger, for sure—but not the heat in her belly or the ache between her legs.
Stopping flush against her, he placed his palms on either side of her body, trapping her between his arms and against counter. Her pulse sped up even more. A part of her wanted him to take the choice from her hands, to take her hard despite any protests she may have, because her protests would be divided. Her body wanted this. Her heart didn’t. It was hard to be strong, though. If he simply took what he seemed to want, he’d give her an excuse for not having to be strong.
The memory of how hard he’d made her come still had the power to make her stomach do backflips. That first and only time, he’d taken her exactly the way she’d wanted, with powerful, relentless strokes, but the satisfaction had been physical only. Back then, her body had been satiated and her heart denied. It had hurt too much to let it happen, again. She swallowed and straightened as much as she could with Ivan’s face so close, his gaze drilling into hers.
She relaxed her shoulders, expelled the tightness in her body that felt too much like sexual tension, and put on her best business voice. “You’re going to be late for your session.”
His smile was anything but warm. “I don’t give a fuck.”
“You’re walking on thin ice. You’ve already missed a meeting and a rehearsal.”
“Better get on with it then.”
“With what?”
“Spit it out.”
“Spit what out?”
He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Stop playing games, Princess. If you want to play, we’ll play, but it won’t be with words.”
She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You’re a prick.”
Without a pretense of civility, he had carte blanche on the truth, that he’d hurt her once and how much she hated him. He’d know that, despite it all, he still had an effect on her, which proved just how strong that effect was.
“Happy?” she asked.
“That’s a start.”
She twisted and tried to duck under his arm, but he cut off the move. Irritation won over her forced patience. “What do you want from me? Why are you so mean?”
“Oh, I want plenty. If I start telling you exactly what I want, you’ll be too frightened to breathe, so why don’t we start with you telling me why you think you deserve anything other than meanness from me.”
“It was a long time ago. We should put the past behind us and move on.”
“Never. I’ll never let it go. I’ll never forgive you.”
“Forgive me?” she exclaimed. “You’re the one who walked out on me, not the other way around.”
“Is that what you think?”
“What else am I supposed to think? You went to the kitchen for a glass of water and never came back.”
“You didn’t bother asking why?”
“How could I? You never spoke to me, again. Instead, you boasted of your conquest to the whole school but avoided me like the plague.”
“Your daddy found me in the kitchen. He threw me out like a piece of shit, in the night, in the cold, in nothing but my fucking underwear.”
Incredulous anger escalated in her. “That’s why you left? That’s why you ignored me? Because my dad threw you out?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “I wasn’t good enough for you or your rich family.”
She nodded slowly. “So you took off with your tail between your legs.”
“Comparing me to a dog, Princess? Reminding me that I’m a pup who belongs with the four-legged litter who raised me?”
“Not to a dog. To a coward.”
“Don’t you dare call me that, again. I let you get away with it once, twice, but I promise you, the next time you call me a coward, you’ll regret it. I’ll make a point of proving you wrong.”
A hysterical giggle bubbled from her throat. “You accepted my dad’s manhandling without putting up a fight.”
He brought his face another inch closer. “And you? You had to know. Did you question your father? Did you ever wonder why I walked out of your life like that? You should’ve known me better, should’ve trusted me enough to know I wouldn’t have done it if there hadn’t been a very good reason.”
She took a shaky breath and straightened in his arms, not caring that her breasts pressed flat against his chest or that his very hard cock was cushioned between her legs. “You’re not doing this.”
His pupils expanded. “What?”
“You’re not blaming the last nine years of my life on a stupid misunderstanding. It’s too easy. This is about much more.”
“Such as?”
“My dad gave you a shove out the door, and you rolled over and played the poor, wounded boy. The truth is I wasn’t enough for you.” She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “What you’re telling me is that I wasn’t worth fighting for.”
His back went rigid, the act burying his hard-on deeper between her thighs. “Everything I did, I did to fight. I fought for the last nine years of my life.”
It was kind of funny to get closure after so many years. Even funnier was how much she’d suffered, how terribly she’d longed for him. For years, she’d wondered if it had been something she’d said or done. Had she sucked at making love? Had he been disappointed with her first attempt? Had he hated her body? It had never been about her. Ivan dating her had only been about himself.
“I never stopped fighting,” he said in a low voice, some of that very fight going out of him as his shoulders sagged.
“You didn’t do it for me.”
“What are you saying?”
Ivan had always had a complex about his past, about being picked up by social services from his father’s house, a malnourished, flea-ridden, two-year old boy on the brink of dying.
