Page 16 of Crystal Wrath
Of course, he does. I stand up abruptly and move to the break room, where I can speak privately. “What do you want?”
“Such hostility after such intimacy.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I want to see you again.”
“That is not happening.” My voice sounds less convincing than I would like.
“No? Not even for dinner at Azul tonight? Eight o'clock?”
“I have plans.” I do not have plans.
“Cancel them.” It’s not a request. “I never got to hear why you were so interested in my Little Havana projects. Perhaps we can discuss it over champagne and seafood.”
My heart races. This is exactly what I need. Access to Renat and an opportunity to discuss his business dealings with him. It’s an opportunity to gather evidence. But the memory of his hands on my body and his lips against my skin threatens to cloud my judgment.
“Why would you want to have dinner with someone who lied to you?” I ask, trying to buy time.
“Because you intrigue me, Elena Martinez. And because I rarely meet someone brave enough to cross me. Or foolish enough.” There’s a quick pause. “Besides, you didn’t lie about everything last night.”
Heat floods my cheeks at the implication. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Both.”
“Then I suppose I will have to eat alone.” His tone is casual, unbothered. “A pity. I was looking forward to explaining my perspective on urban development. I thought a journalist like you might appreciate the insider view.”
A small gasp escapes my lips. “You know.”
“That you write for theMiami Herald? Yes. That you’ve been investigating my business dealings? Also, yes.” His voice lowers, becoming dangerously soft. “That you moaned my name three times last night? Absolutely.”
I lean against the wall, my knees suddenly weak. “Are you threatening me?”
“If I were threatening you, Elena, you would know it.” I hear the clink of glass on his end, perhaps a drink being poured. “No, I’moffering you an exclusive. A chance to hear my side of the story. Off the record, of course.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then you’ll write whatever story you were going to write anyway, based on half-truths and speculation. And I’ll weather it, as I have weathered many storms.” He sounds almost bored. “But you will miss your chance to understand the whole picture.”
I close my eyes, considering my options. Dinner with Renat is dangerous, not just professionally but personally. I’m not sure I can trust myself around him. But the journalist in me can’t pass up this opportunity.
“On one condition,” I insist. “We meet somewhere public.”
“Azul is very public.” He sounds amused. “They have a lovely patio overlooking the bay. You can wear that blue dress you have hanging in your closet. The one you were saving for a special occasion.”
My blood runs cold. “How do you know what’s in my closet?”
“I make it my business to know things, Elena. Especially about people who interest me.” There is a rustling sound, like papers being moved. “Eight o'clock. Don’t be late.”
The line goes dead before I can respond.
I stand frozen in the break room, phone clutched in my hand, heart hammering against my ribs. He knows who I am. He knows where I work. He knows what is in my goddamn closet. And instead of threatening me or attempting to shut down my investigation, he is asking me to dinner.
Nothing about this makes sense unless he’s playing a game. Like a cat toying with a mouse before the kill.
I return to my desk, my mind racing. The smart move is to ignore his invitation and go to Nick with what I have or leave town for a few days until the story breaks. But something keeps me from making that choice. Curiosity, perhaps. Or the memory of how he looked at me in the dim light of that bedroom, like I was a precious gem. How he touched me like I was made of glass and wildfire in equal measures.
Or maybe it’s just that I have never been able to walk away from a story, even when it might destroy me.
I save my work, close my laptop, and grab my bag. I need to clear my head. Need to figure out my next move. I need to decide if I am brave enough or foolish enough to have dinner with the devil.
