Maelstrom

Chapter 40: Oh ... Shit

My head began to spin. This could not be happening. I had finally started to relax and believe I was safe here, that I could pretend that I was nothing but a young woman on a date with an exciting, magnetic, handsome man at a fancy party. What were Cousin Hasse and Sophie doing at a campaign fundraiser for the mayor's potential opponent?

It didn't matter. Right now what mattered was me getting out of here before either of my relatives spotted the young woman Hasse had always affectionately, presumptuously, and erroneously referred to as his niece.

"I need some air," I told Ivan, stepping to position his large, muscular frame between myself and the vice president of Hellström Industries.

He looked at me in concern and took the champagne glass from my hand, placing it with his on a nearby table. "Come on. I bet this place has an incredible view from the roof." He led me out of the double salon and into the hallway with its row of elevators.

Not far enough, I thought wildly as he pushed the top button to call the elevator. My eyes were locked on the exit to the Roth room and in mere seconds beheld Cousin Hasse as he began to step into the quieter hallway with us, one hand pressed to his ear to better hear his caller's voice.

My mind went blank with fear, and in a move born of desperation, desire, and hundreds of Hollywood movies, I pulled Ivan to me and kissed him.

His surprise melted immediately into an ardor that completely took my breath away. His warm lips were almost bruising with the intensity of his kiss. One strong, fine-boned hand reached around to hold the back of my neck, the other reached around to grab my ass with a terrifying passion. My arms wrapped around him and my lips parted to take in his insistent tongue. I moaned softly as he penetrated my mouth, and I licked and sucked on that soft, warm tongue until he moaned in return.

The silk and lace covering my nipples were suddenly an agony, the tiny snippet of lace over my sex a hideous encumbrance, and Ivan was ludicrously overdressed for the things I wanted to do to him. I could feel the bulge of his erection pressing into my belly, straining to be free of the luxurious confinement of the tailored wool suit. I plunged my fingers into his silky hair and tugged gently for a reprieve, a moment to breathe before he continued his relentless assault on my mouth.

I was no longer concerned with Cousin Hasse seeing me; right now, I didn't care who saw me. I was only deliriously happy that this man had seen me, seen something in me that ignited him the same way he did me.

Ivan stopped abruptly and leaned his forehead against mine. "We have to get out of here," he panted.

"Immediately," I agreed.

We entwined our fingers, and he pulled me down the hall, past the potted palm where Cousin Hasse was averting his eyes from the embarrassingly amorous couple, down the stairs to the coat check where an envious young woman took the claim ticket from Ivan's impatient fingers.

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket and tapped it a few times with his thumb, his other hand still wrapped around mine.

He lifted the phone to his ear. "Bring the car around; we're ready to leave," he said, his eyes devouring me as I waited, flushed and primed and dying to be in his arms again. I saw a flicker of anger and concern darken his eyes.

"Just one?" he asked. He waited a moment for a reply while I collected my cape from the attendant and rummaged in my clutch for a suitable tip.

"Can you lose it?" He listened again. "No. Avoid the hotel. Go to the club and sit there for an hour or so before coming home. We'll get a cab."

He slipped the phone back in his pocket and reached out to help me drape the cape about my shoulders. He slid one arm inside the taffeta folds, holding tightly to my waist.

I was having a hard time thinking as we headed out the doors of the Ritz-Carlton and Ivan asked the doorman to get us a cab, but something about that brief conversation was lodged in my ear, and was demanding consideration.

"Why isn't Marshall coming for us?" I asked as he handed me into a taxi that had been waiting nearby. I opened the clasp of the cape again and let it fall from my shoulders. My body was on fire and the heavy cloth was suddenly stifling. Besides, the look on Ivan's face as he took in the sight of my long legs stretching to find room in the cab and the hard pearls of my nipples pressing the thin crêpe of the dress was priceless.

He gave the cabbie a NoHo address that was thankfully not too far away and passed him a twenty to pay for the trip in advance. He looked out the back window of the cab as we pulled into traffic and then back at me.

"He's picked up a tail," he said quietly. He seemed to be waiting for my reaction.

I quashed my initial feelings of alarm and self-recrimination and masked them with confusion. "You mean, someone is following him?" Of course someone was following him, you idiot – the surveillance detail from the OCCB. By this time, DiMarco almost certainly knew that the woman that their money-laundering drug cartel connection had stepped out with tonight was none other than their own rookie officer and all-round undercover fuck-up, Lärke Hellström. I was dead.

"The NYPD," Ivan confirmed. His voice was tight and low, though his face was composed as he looked out the windows of the cab with apparently casual interest. I could barely hear him over the blare of music coming from the front seat. "They like to follow me around the city. Normally I let them; they undoubtedly have reams of fascinating reports of me heading to Asylum and going home again, over and over, day after day. But though I don't care how much they trail me to my work and back, my private life is my own, and I will not have them compiling a dossier on whom I see and when, where we go and what we do. Marshall lost them on the way to your apartment, but they somehow picked him up again where he'd parked to wait a few blocks from the hotel."

A thousand emotions were crashing through my body, but relief was chief among them – DiMarco didn't know. Yet. My secret was still safe, no thanks to my own carelessness. I thought of our other "date" and regarded him with narrowed eyes.

"Is that why you came on the motorcycle to see me at the gym? To avoid being followed?" I asked.

Ivan grinned. "Among other reasons," he admitted. "They don't seem to know about the bike yet, and even if they eventually realize that I occasionally leave my building without my big, conspicuous town car, losing them on the Ducati will be easy. I'm sure they had a delightful time following Marshall around that day."

I was a bit alarmed to recognize that once again, one of the many emotions batting about inside me was pride – this time, pride that Ivan had so easily picked out the OCCB's surveillance and was clever enough to evade them at will. That cleverness, dangerous as it was for me, was also a huge turn-on. "So you're protecting me from the police as well as from unscrupulous politicians?" I asked, a delighted smile playing about my lips.

The way he looked at me was beyond intense. "I told you," he said, his voice a husky growl. "I will protect you from anyone and everyone." I watched his eyes rake over my body and saw their vehemence turn to a hotter, more familiar fervor. "I don't know who will protect you from me, though."