Page 16 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
There was an underlying caution, a reservation he’d keep in place until he learned that this woman wasn’t up to no good.
But until then…
Gripping the conference room door handle, Mikko cleared his thoughts and fixed the metaphorical mask over his face. Stepping inside, six pairs of eyes greeted him, and in that moment he felt the power his father had chased.
“Gentleman,”he crooned, voice low and rich, “what brings you in today?”
* * *
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
The sharp sound of his computer mouse amid the silence of his office made the act even more furtive and scandalous. His meeting had ended a couple hours ago, and he’d been sequestered back in his office, mind hungry for more information ever since.
If only Cristiano could see what I’m using our money and technology for.
On the monitor before him, security footage played. To most, it was an uneventful scene, partygoers filling the dancefloor and surrounding the bar to eagerly order their drinks. Everyone had filed in to forget their weeks—to dance and drink and fuck away their sorrows.
But Mikko didn’t care about them.
Instead, his sharp eyes had lasered in on a specific timestamp.
Seven thirteen.
The moment he’d glanced at his watch last Friday, and his brain was unable to unsee it. Even now, as he’d fast forwarded through the footage, he’d had an end goal in mind.
On the monitor, he stared at the proof that his interaction with the unknown woman was true andnota dream. Multiple cameras had captured the moment, the shift in time that he was beginning to think was the inception of something new.
There, currently in view of one of the cameras, he leaned against the bar top as he remembered. A snifter glass of vodka was keeping his hands busy, the look on his face pained as people swarmed around him.
He already knew the woman wasn’t in frame yet, the time stamp a couple seconds too soon, but he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep his eyes focused on one spot. He’d wondered if she’d seen him long before he’d noticed her, her predatory gaze latching onto him before proceeding to approach him. Or had she simply invaded his space for the fun of it, no other introduction needed.
Counting down the seconds, Mikko watched as she strode into view, her form lithe and slipping between the bodies along the outskirts of the camera angle. Even now, he could seeminglyfeelthe devious intent behind her movements, the sultry prowess she exuded.
Not stopping until she was almost pressed against him—a memory making him shudder in delight—he realized how close she’d been to him. No one ever dared to cross such a blatant boundary, especially with him, but she didn’t care. It was obvious she thought Mikko was beneath her.
A fact that both angered and pulled him in.
In the past, everyone treated him as if he was a bomb ready to explode. Men either feared or revered him, his reputation well known. Women usually shied away, concerned with getting mixed up in thegrimy underworld. Or they clung to him like a lost puppy, eager for whatever he could provide them. Anika was none of those options.
Leaning in close, she assessed him like an animal would a piece of meat; she was on the hunt long before he’d even realized it. Another certainty that’d become obvious to him after watching this footage over and over.
More than thirty times to be exact…
Pausing the video again, Mikko inclined his head toward the monitor. Her face was nearly completely obscured by Mikko’s shoulder, but he could still see how her lovely mouth parted while she spoke to him.
And as he remembered—as if his brain could ever let him forget—her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a silky wave of night, all except foronepiece. Bright and glowing in the strobe lights, Mikko found himself enraptured again.
Pressing play, he continued to watch the rest of the interaction from this angle, unable to see the way she’d touched him—stoked a fire within his chest. In the moment, he’d thought it’d been his drink, the alcohol burning his throat and making him perceive things differently.
But…
Her gaze flicked to another camera, one Mikko had also combed through, her fuzzy eyes hard to discern, but heknewshe’d found his camera. She’d staked them out, gestured to them and given them small, secretive smiles. As if she knew he’d be here now, watching this all back.
Fuck.
He observed her flag down the bartender, the crisp hundred sliding across the bar top, and the smug look on her face as the glass of tequila was pushed his way.
All of it was too much. Mikko’s senses were short circuiting, brainwhirring in desperation to uncover the true meaning behind all of this. He had a feeling this woman had ripped a hole in his safeguards, eager to crawl inside his mind and rot.
