Page 21 of Take Me Under

“I, ah… I should probably get dressed. I need to return to my motel and check out.”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

Her head snapped back up to look at me, her expression heavy with concern. “You took care of it? But what about my belongings?”

“I retrieved your things while you were sleeping, just like I told you I would.”

She frowned as if searching her memory before saying, “That’s right. I remember you mentioning that. Were there any problems with check out?”

“No issues,” I replied quickly, deliberately not mentioning that her hotel room had been ransacked. A part of me wanted to confront her about what I’d found at the Midtown, but I needed more answers about who she was first. It would be best to wait for the background check so that I’d know who I was dealing with. Hopefully, Zeke would have information for me by the time the sun came up.

“I should have gone with you. I’m sorry. I just felt so out of it. Getting sick had not been on my agenda for this trip, but I have more of a clear head now.” She paused, her eyes darting around the room, suddenly looking panicked. “I need to call home. My mother will be out of her mind with worry when she finds out I’m not back as planned. Where’s my phone?”

Before I could answer, she slid out of the bed and moved quickly toward the chaise lounge to where her belongings were. Pulling her cellphone from her purse, she muttered something before tossing the phone back onto the chaise. It took me a second to figure out that she was speaking to herself in Italian.

Amused by her unintelligible ramblings, I felt the corners of my mouth pull up. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to find my charger. The battery is dead.”

“There’s a charging cord in the nightstand.” Reaching for the drawer, I pulled out the charger and handed it to her. “Do you always check in with your mother?”

“Not always, but ever since my father…” Serena seemed to get lost in thought for a moment before shaking her head. “It’s barely seven in the morning in Italy. I don’t want to wake her if she’s sleeping. I’ll just let my phone charge for a bit, then call her in an hour. She should be up by then.”

She raked both hands through her hair. The simple action of raising her arms caused the T-shirt to rise above the tops of her thighs, exposing the red thong she wore underneath. Catching herself, she quickly pulled down on the hem as a visible flush of heat spread to her cheeks.

I raised a brow at her show of modesty.

“No need to be shy, princess. I’ve already seen most of what there is to see.”

Her blush deepened and I suppressed a smile.

“Look, Anton,” she began, choosing not to acknowledge my comment. “I’m feeling better, but it seems like I might be here for a bit yet—at least until I can get my affairs in order and figure out what I need to do next. I don’t want to impose, but is it okay if I took a quick shower? It’ll be good to wash off the sweat before I attempt civilized society again.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

I motioned for her to follow me into the ensuite bathroom. The smooth marble floors were cool beneath my bare feet as I pointed out where she could find clean towels and toiletries. Then I went over to the large, walk-in shower, and turned the valves to adjust the temperature of the waterfall shower head. The sound of running water filled the room, and I turned back to face Serena.

My breath caught as I took in the sight of her underneath the muted lighting. I was normally a satin and lace kind of guy, and if the mood struck, I could get into leather, too. But the way shestood there, barefoot in my white cotton T-shirt, I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything sexier.

A vision of her naked body in my shower, water flowing hot and wet over every curve, flooded my mind. The muscles in my arms and chest tensed, betraying the sudden wave of pure, carnal desire that washed over me.

I craved her. Desperately.

I barely knew her, yet all I wanted to do was take her to my bed and worship her tight body, licking and biting every sensual curve before savagely claiming her as mine.

Fuck. What is this woman doing to me?

I shook my head and stepped away from the shower. After making my way back toward the bathroom door, I turned to face her again. Suppressing my thoughts, I cleared my suddenly dry throat and said, “Take all the time you need.”

Leaving her alone with the steam of the shower so she could feel human again, I withdrew to the bedroom, my mind and body buzzing.

Restless, I moved into the living room and headed toward the wet bar. After pouring two fingers of Bowmore 27 single malt over a ball of ice, I went into my office and looked out the large windows overlooking 5th Avenue. I lifted the glass to my mouth, feeling the cool liquid over my tongue just before the burn hit the back of my throat.

I ran a hand through my hair as I took in the nighttime view of the city. I had barely lived here long enough to appreciate its luxuries, but they weren’t why I’d bought it. My interest in the property was rooted in its historical significance.

Having developed a fascination with the rich and powerful throughout history, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to buy the home that had once belonged to the late Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. I had to have it. The purchase may have seemed ostentatious to anyone who knew where I’d come from, but it didn’t matter what they thought. The street rat they once knewwas dead. My home symbolized who I was now—and I would never go back.

Sitting on the northeast corner of 85th Street, the penthouse was only one block north of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the very place I’d met the mystery woman in my shower.

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