Unmeasured (Unmatched Book 1) Page 8

  She gathered her coat and her bag, yet indecision seemed to slow her motions. “I could eat Italian…but I’ll take my own car, thank you.”

  He laughed softly, not able to help himself. “Very well.”

  Chapter 9

  When Oleg asked Sam where she was parked, she hadn’t expected him to walk the two blocks with her down the blustery street. A strong gust of wind smacked her in the face like a frying pan, causing her to pull her hood in around her cheeks in defense of the unseasonably cold day.

  Oleg’s arm was around her instantly, cradling her to his chest. His strides took on an even more aggressive speed. Sam didn’t protest. How could she? He was so warm.

  As they approached the corner, two rather tall men exited the long, black BMW parked at the curb. Oleg stopped walking.

  “Salut,” one man said and extended his gloved hand to Oleg.

  “Davit,” Oleg said, addressing him and accepting the handshake. He then held his hand out to the other. “Artur.”

  “We thought we’d stop over and find out how well things are going. Spend some time with our future brother-in-law,” Davit continued.

  “As you can see, I was just on my way out,” Oleg said. His grasp on Sam hadn’t faltered, though oddly, she felt somehow invisible among these three giants.

  “Yes, we see.” They both gave her a once over.

  Not so invisible anymore.

  “Who is this?” Artur asked the question she could also read in Davit’s eyes.

  Oleg raised his chin slightly, taking a moment to answer, though eventually he did. “Someone that doesn’t concern you.”

  “No?” Davit said with a thin smile. “Then you can send her on her way while we talk.”

  Oleg let her go then, and his firm presence against her body was instantly missed, though it irked her to acknowledge it. She took a step back, because she most certainly wasn’t going to let them see her disappointment. In fact, anyone or anything to do with his fiancée was the sharpest of reminders that she had absolutely no business being within ten feet of this man. The step backward proceeded into a turn on her heel, positioning her on the correct course, headed across the street and away from Oleg.

  But he grabbed her wrist. “Give me just one minute,” he said to her.

  Sam nodded, and he returned his attention to the brothers.

  “Let me explain,” Oleg said. “When I told you she was none of your concern, I did not mean that she wasn’t of importance. I have a special project I’m working on, and this project is not part of our deal, so if you’ll excuse us…”

  “Special project? My father will hear of this. Nothing is to get in the way of what we are here to do.”

  Oleg locked his jaw and nodded. “Yes, we agree on that. Stick to what you’re here to do, and let me handle my end.” He leaned in closer to Davit. “And the next time you want to talk, make it known that you’re coming by. Announce yourselves, okay?”

  Davit nodded one time with a crooked tilt of his head and didn’t say any more until he was opening the door to the passenger’s side of the car. “Karina will be home in less than a month. Make sure your special project is completed by then.”

  Sam felt the wind rip right through her. The fiancée had a name.

  When they had pulled away, Sam started to speak. “I think I should go.”

  “We are going…to the restaurant, yes?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m going home. I don’t even know what I’m doing here with you.” She needed to get back to her boring stack of law books and the mind-numbing life she’d signed up for.

  “If I understood you right, you are here because Henri told you to come.”

  “Yeah, but it was so stupid. You clearly have a lot going on. Too much for me to get involved with.”

  He took a step back. “Are we getting involved, or are we getting something to eat?”

  She smiled at that. “You know what I mean.”

  Oleg didn’t respond to her at first. He just stared at her wind-spanked face with fire in his hazel eyes. “I don’t want you to go home,” he said finally and took hold of her hand.

  She pulled away. “Are you even safe?” Everything about him reeked with an obvious answer to that question. No. Except for the way she’d felt shielded against his chest under his powerful arm. He hadn’t asked her if she wanted his protection, if she would appreciate the warmth he shared with her. He hadn’t questioned whether she needed it. He had just known and given it to her.

  “Safe,” he said. “That is an interesting word.” He pointed down the block and across the street to the Audi TT wedged between a dusty late-model minivan and a cargo trailer. “Is that your car?”

  “Yes,” she answered, still waiting for him to elaborate.

  “It suits you,” he said and continued to walk toward it.

  She felt ridiculous asking again, but the irrational part of her that also didn’t want to leave him behind needed to hear him promise she wasn’t committing herself to an afternoon with a lunatic, as if a promise from a lunatic meant anything. At least she could tell herself she’d tried to be smart about it all.

  But that was the issue. She really didn’t want to be smart about this. She didn’t want to think about it, to be responsible for it. She had come because Henri had told her to, and now she wanted to stay because Oleg wanted her to. There was the doctor’s note, of course, that Henri held in ransom for her day with Oleg, but even without the sanctioned excuse for missing her final, Sam would have wanted to spend the afternoon with him.

  Approaching her car, Sam remotely unlocked the doors. Once there, Oleg opened the door for her. “I’m driving myself today.” He pointed to the silver Maserati they’d passed. “Follow me to the restaurant, and I’ll try to explain to you about my perspective on the word ‘safe’.”

  She didn’t reply, and he didn’t ask for one. He shut the door with a firm press and jogged in the other direction. Sam tapped her hand on the steering wheel and waited. The urge to stay put until he appeared again kept her foot off the gas pedal. Yes, the smart move was to pull away and leave Oleg and everything about his world in her rearview mirror. She knew the rules that young single women should follow.

  The low yet aggressive purr of mechanical testosterone idled next to her, and she pressed her lips together. Smart was on vacation, and rules were for people who were scared of the consequences. Sam was ready for an adventure of her own kind.

  *

  Oleg locked eyes with Samantha and hoped he’d be able to confirm what he’d expected. She’d be following him to the restaurant after all. Good girl, he thought, and a pleased smile passed his lips.

  He drove slowly, unusual for him, but it would ruin his day if he let her get lost. In fact, the idea of losing her felt very, very wrong indeed. The notion was almost offensive. He hadn’t a clue what to do with that inconvenient fact, but there it was, nonetheless. Henri was a true son-of-a-bitch for temping him this way.

  He got him on the phone.

  “Allo, Oleg.” There was an expectant lilt to his voice that made Oleg grind his back teeth.

  “You’re a dick, do you know that?”

  “Moi? Surely you’re not just discovering this?”

  Oleg chuckled through a sigh. “No, it’s what makes you one of a kind, my friend.”

  “And so, have you frightened the neophyte away yet?”

  “She is following me to lunch.” He took a sharp turn onto Rue la Fayette.

  Henri laughed out loud. “Wise choice to provide herself with a getaway car.”

  Oleg shook his head. “What are you trying to do here, Henri?”

  His tone turned serious. “Listen to me. I do not want to see you locked into something you don’t want. It’s completely against what you believe in, what you stand for. We are men who make the rules. We don’t fucking follow them. We established that a long time ago. I’m not going to let you forget it.”

  Oleg sighed. “Henri…”

 
“Just spend some time with her, eh? You want to, I know it.”

  “Just the afternoon.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Oleg ended the call. They were close to the intimate little gem he liked to frequent when he had business in the 10th. Samantha was still behind him. They could spend a little more than an hour together before his appointment with his tailor. He’d call and reschedule it, but Maurice would have him waiting another week out of spite.

  Inside, their coats were taken, and they were seated next to each other at his usual table in the back corner, near the small fountain depicting a miniature version of Botticelli’s Birth of Venus with water bubbling from the top of her head. It was tacky as hell, but the food was delicious, and the staff catered to him like family.

  “Hello again, monsieur,” the small, slightly balding man clapped his hands together in delight as he approached their table. “How nice it is to see you.”

  “Ciao, Alberto,” he replied. “Ça va bien?”

  “Eccellente, merci,” Alberto replied.

  Like most Europeans, Oleg was fluent in several languages. They sometimes ran together into one, especially when speaking to another son of immigrants like himself. Alberto shared the tendency.

  The host held a chubby hand out to Sam. “What a beauty.”

  She began to oblige him with her own hand, but Oleg cleared his throat, catching her attention. He shook his head, and she placed her hand back in her lap.

  “Very nice to meet you, Alberto,” she said instead.

  Alberto smiled and called over a young man to fill their glasses with Pellegrino. Menus and a basket of bread were left, and they were alone again.

  “Does he have the cooties or something?” Sam asked with an incredulous look on her face.

  Oleg opened his napkin and placed it neatly onto his lap. Where to even begin? He took a moment before speaking.

  “You asked me if I was safe,” he said finally. “I believe the answer to that question lies in whether or not I make you feel safe.” He picked up the tall glass vessel resting on the table and poured some of the dark-green extra-virgin olive oil onto a small plate. “Many would say that I am not safe, that I’m quite dangerous, in fact. But I’m not interested in what many people think.” He tore a piece of crusty bread and offered it to her.

  She took it between two hesitant fingers.

  “I don’t even know what to think. You are the oddest man I’ve ever met.”

  Oleg smiled at that. “Then don’t think.” He reached forward and trailed his finger over her apple-shaped cheekbone. Alberto was certainly correct. She was a beauty.

  She chewed the bread as she watched him watching her. Then her eyes dipped away. Oleg never lost that contest.

  “What is your last name?” She asked.

  He smirked a bit. “Do you think we are on a last name basis?” Oleg wasn’t quick to divulge that bit of information about himself. “I don’t know yours yet?”

  Samantha’s gaze dipped again to her plate. “Fine. Let’s keep it a mystery.”

  He grinned. “A little mystery is good.”

  She looked at the menu. “So what’s the best thing to eat here? I don’t read Italian.”

  “I’ll order for you. What do you like?” He browsed the selections. “I think something warm and hearty, yes?”

  He mused at the way she chewed subtly on the inside of her cheek, hesitating, and then deciding to ask. “Are you…” She didn’t quite finish. He’d love to work on her conviction.

  Oleg didn’t look up from the menu, but the corner of his mouth lifted into a knowing smirk. He finished the question she seemed to be struggling with. “Am I going to feed it to you?” He closed the menu, having decided what he’d have her eat. “Say that you’d like me to.”

  She sighed through pressed lips, confliction muddling her expression.

  He waited. Patience was almost always rewarded.

  “Ugh, never mind,” she said and picked up her own menu again.

  “Samantha,” he said with measured punctuation. “Don’t dishonor yourself with a lie.”

  “What lie?”

  “The one that just made you run from what you want.” He tore another piece of bread and dipped it into the oil. He offered it to her, and this time he swatted away her fingers when she reached for it. “Stop lying. Open your mouth.”

  She did.

  “Say the words.”

  “I want you to feed me.”

  He smiled, and satisfaction coursed warm through his veins like a drug. If he was dangerous, then so was she. Dominating her shouldn’t feel this good this soon, not over something so small. What would it be like to have her at his feet? The desire building in him felt almost confusing. Needing something that badly was supposed to be the condition he put his subs in, not the other way around.

  It was Oleg’s turn to hesitate. He couldn’t afford to get too attached.

  Her tongue eased forward past her teeth, and his cock tightened. When he slipped the bread into her mouth, she licked at the tip of his finger, and it gave him the fucking chills.

  “That’s good bread,” she said.

  “Italians know how to do it.”

  “That’s kind of a sin to say in Paris.”

  His lip twitched. “I’m not afraid to sin.”

  Samantha chuckled. “I could have guessed that.”

  But Oleg was the one lying now, because the way he wanted to take her and lock her into his life for longer than just one afternoon was scaring the fuck out him. This was exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. Complicating his life with anything more than a casual arrangement involving an experienced sub looking for the same would be the stupidest thing he could do right now. Not to mention the aggressive way the Harakian brothers had raked their eyes over her. Armenian pride couldn’t be underestimated, not when family was involved.

  He’d spend one afternoon with her. What harm could be done? He wouldn’t even try to fuck her, though he was certain the possibility for that was as open as her mouth. He wouldn’t try, because if she felt as right in his bed as she had against his chest when they walked to her car, he couldn’t say what he wouldn’t do to keep her there.

  Chapter 10

  “Osso bucco for my guest. I’ll have my usual.”

  Samantha sipped her Pellegrino as Oleg ordered their meals. She waited until the waiter had left to voice her protest, if that was what it was. “Maybe I’m a vegetarian. You didn’t even bother to ask.”

  “Are you?” He grinned. “I’m not a bully, you know. I can pick you out something else.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, a wry smile tickling her lips. “I was just making a point.”

  “You’re not a vegetarian because that lentil soup you like so much is full of beef.” He licked his bottom lip, and Sam felt as if he could taste the attraction she had for him. “I probably know a lot about you, Samantha,” he said.

  Thank God, he didn’t know her last name or anything about where she came from. One Google search with the right keywords, and he’d know her mother was the most high-profile senator in the United States. Every other guy who found out either ran for the hills or tried to get the inside track on a staffer post. Oleg didn’t seem interested in being anyone’s staffer. Still, she wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Here’s something you don’t know. No one actually calls me that,” she said. “Everyone calls me Sam.”

  “Which do you prefer?”

  “Sam, I guess.” She gave it more thought. “You can call me Samantha if you like.”

  “If I choose to give you another name, it won’t be Sam,” he said.

  The waiter returned with the bottle of Amarone Oleg had requested. He opened it and allowed Oleg to approve with a taste before attempting to fill their glasses. Oleg waved his hand away, opting to pour it himself.

  Once again, Sam waited until they were alone before she spoke. “Do you mean a pet name?”

  “If you were to earn o
ne.” He took a sip from his own glass. “What entertainment that would be.”

  “Yeah, I bet you would really enjoy watching me try to earn a pet name.”

  “You don’t even know what that would involve, do you?”

  “I can imagine.”

  “I promise you that you can’t.”

  Samantha took a big gulp of wine and let it warm her chest. “Why does everyone assume I can’t handle the truth about your lifestyle?”

  “Because you are undisciplined and naïve.” He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table. “I’ll show you.”

  He dipped his index finger into his glass, and a drop of the full-bodied wine clung to the tip. With his other hand, he took hold of her jaw and placed the purple drop at the center of her bottom lip.

  “Don’t allow your tongue to wipe that away.” He grinned at her mischievously. “It’s going to drive you crazy.”

  She had a good feeling it was going to drive him crazy too. Sam let her tongue wander her top lip and focused on teasing him instead of the nagging urge to sweep at the place his finger had dabbed a drop of the most delicious wine she’d ever tasted. It was a game she enjoyed playing, and in her mind she was winning. But when her tongue made another appearance, Oleg surprised her with a kiss.

  It was a kiss that curled her toes.

  “Ha ha. You lose,” she whispered, meaning the taunt to be taken as a joke.

  But Oleg didn’t smile. He kissed her again, and the world became apocalyptic, crumbling to insignificant rubble around them. Tongue met demurring muscle in the sheer fierceness of domination. He took her mouth and deeded it for a few pounding heartbeats. Then he changed the subject with a deep, heavy sigh.

  “Don’t you have any classes today?”

  Sam shook her head as her hand bumbled its way to her glass of wine. But more wine wasn’t all that she wanted. Oleg wasn’t looking at her any longer with those blazing hazel eyes, and the absence of the heat it draped over her was palpable. “It’s mid-term week. No classes.”