The doorman tilted his hat as they passed.
Wow, I feel just like Pretty Woman, minus the hooker gig.
"Niccolo?" She tugged at his sleeve after the elevator doors closed.
He looked at her with his large dark eyes and flashed yet another stunning smile. "Sì, my love?"
Her heart made a happy little flutter. "You said we were going to talk after the plane ride. Aren't you going to say something?" she asked.
He tilted his head sideways. "What would you like me to say?"
An explanation of why he'd been entombed in Mexico, asleep for three centuries would be nice. Or how about the nature of his origins. Why were he and she "mates?" How did it happen? What did it mean? Was happiness a guaranteed part of the package? How about children? Did she need to pass some sort of math test to prove she was smart enough to be his companion for eternity? Not that she was worried; she was great at math.
Helena suddenly felt foolish, like a naïve child who required hand-holding. She opted for a question that didn't reflect her eagerness for answers.
She squared her shoulders. "Why did you pick this place to live?"
He frowned for a brief moment. "You are not pleased? You do not like the location? I assure you it is the finest penthouse in all of Manhattan."
She shook her head. "No. The location is … perfect. But, why New York? Is this where you're from?" She didn't think so since he sounded Italian.
He shook his head. "No. I am not from here."
Yep. Stupid question.
The elevator chimed and the stainless steel doors slid open. They stepped out into a quiet brightly lit hallway with cream-colored walls, thick floral patterned carpet, and beveled mirrors on either side of an ornately carved set of double doors.
"Do you work in New York, then?" She had no clue what he did for money.
He turned toward her, his jaw muscles pulsed. Was he frustrated? Had she said something wrong?
"It is simply … convenient," he replied.
"Why?"
Jaw ticking. "Buon. All will be revealed in good time, my bride." The doors swung open, and he tugged her through. "Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to bear with me. There is much I cannot discuss. It is simply forbidden."
"But you said I'm your mate. Doesn't that mean I'm allowed to know-"
She suddenly found herself pinned against the wall. He kissed her with such force that for a moment she didn't know if he was attacking her or merely feeling as hot under the collar as she was. His lips pushed and sucked as his tongue invaded her mouth. A jolt surged through her body. The elation was so exquisite, so powerful, that she thought she would either orgasm or pass out if he didn't stop. Either would be just a teensee bit embarrassing at this juncture of their relationship.
She then recalled being whisked away to what she believed was their bedroom. (Who the heck cared?) He pressed his body against hers, continuing to take possession of her mouth. He felt so good, so hard against her softness. A pulsating, sinful warmth pooled between her legs as his hands cupped her ass and pushed her possessively into his erection.
Is there any spot on his body that isn't hard? Tonsils? Kidneys? Oh! His tongue... silky little devil.
A deep rumble escaped his throat as his hands reached for the buttons of her jeans.
Were they going to do this now? So soon?
Hell, who was she kidding? She thought about it every minute of every day since she'd met him.
Yiiiippy!!
But did he know she wasn't … experienced? She'd seen him naked and knew his size was not to be taken lightly. No training wheels on that bicycle.
How she was able, she'd never know, but she broke the kiss to warn him and caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were dark abysses that mirrored her own uncertainty, raging lust, and fear.
She gasped. "Niccolo. Are you okay?"
A look of frustration. No. Wait … anger. No … fear. Oh, hell. It was a bad, bad look.
"Tomas will watch over you," he scowled before he flew from the room like a wintry gust, slamming the door behind him.
After Helena had caught her breath and splashed cold water-not nearly cold enough-on her face, she attempted to go find him. But instead she found the giant Slavic beast-Tomas?-at her door, with a gaze so icy he could freeze a penguin's patooty. That took the wind from her libido-sails.
She'd spent the rest of the day unpacking, watching television, and trying to avoid confronting the reality of her situation. But she'd never ventured outside the room where the scary blond man stood motionless.
Would Niccolo ever return? Damn him. Why did he leave her alone? Perhaps she was a terrible kisser and his eyes were like mood rings that turned black when a science-dork touched him?
Ugh! Stop it, Helena. There has to be a rational explanation. He wouldn't bring you all the way here, buy you a home, save your life … just to dump you after one kiss.
Helena opened her journal. Yes, she would make sense of everything by separating fact from fiction-aka her deranged imagination-and sort them in an orderly manner, which would lead her to a rational explanation for everything she'd seen, heard, and felt.
Start with the creepy assassin at your door.
Was he a vampire, too? Maybe.
Would he hurt her? Not likely. Niccolo was über protective and wouldn't leave her with someone who would harm her.
Okay, that settles it. See. Nothing to be afraid of. Just go out there, introduce yourself, and have him point you to the kitchen.
She peeked one more time outside the bedroom door and shut it once again. Dammit. Tomas was just too big and deadly looking. He also had the whole supernatural vibe going. It rattled her bones.
"Ma'am," she'd heard a low voice on the other side of the door.
Helena gasped and covered her mouth.
"Miss Strauss? I can hear you breathing. I know you're there."
Crap. What should she do? If she didn't answer, she'd look like a coward. For some bizarre reason, images of chickens flashed in her mind. Didn't the stronger hens always peck at the weaker ones until they were sad looking and without feathers? Did vampires think themselves the stronger hens? She couldn't show weakness and let them peck her.
Helena took a deep breath and yanked open the door. "What? What the hell do you want?" she barked.
Tomas took a step back, but didn't appear at all bothered by her tone. "Niccolo told me that I was not to disturb you under any circumstances. But I doubt he anticipated you'd stay in your room without eating for an entire day. So, considering he'll take my head if you suffered under my care, I thought I'd risk it."
"Oh." Helena cautiously eyed him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so … rude … " But you scare the hell out of me.
A tick of amusement flashed in Tomas' eyes. "I can see you are not quite comfortable with leaving your quarters just yet, so may I order you some food?"
Helena lifted her chin. She was determined to bury her fear, and that included her wobbly knees that seemed to recognize she was talking to a lion who, under normal circumstances, viewed her as a tasty gazelle. "Sausage Pizza and … Dr. Pepper."
Tomas stared for several moments, fear filling his eyes. "I am certain we can find you a pizza, but I was not aware you are ill and require a doctor. Niccolo will have my head."
This was going to be a very, very long day.
***
Eight Sad, Long Weeks Later …
Helena stared out the window of the obscenely spacious penthouse overlooking Central Park. In contrast to the stark white walls and white modernist furniture, outside was a vision of drab, sooty gray. The late afternoon rain pattered against the tinted glass, which partially obscured the breathtaking view, all twenty million dollars of it. Not that she cared.
Sadly, this day was one she'd repeated more times than she cared to remember in recent weeks: alone, waiting, and too much time to think.
Even her thick beige turtleneck and wool socks weren't enough to ward off the coldness lurking in her bones today. Reality had finally sunk in, gonging like a huge bell, really.
I left my home and family for Niccolo.
She still hadn't figured out what she would eventually tell everyone. Right now, they believed she was on the east coast conducting research for a marine biology outfit in New York. If anyone knew the truth, her best friends Ann and Jess, her mother, they'd all say she'd lost her noodle. Helena barely grasped the situation herself, and no amount of journaling could fix the facts because they didn't add up to anything that might be recognized as logical.
Almost three months earlier she'd gotten herself stranded in the jungle where she met a vampire-irresistibly sexy … yes! But nevertheless, a real live vampire. She'd then become inexplicably stricken by the urge to spend every waking moment, for the rest of her life and every moment thereafter, at his side. Like a damned puppy!
Yes, he had saved her neck, but the intensity of her feelings still didn't make sense. And frankly, she was exhausted from trying to figure it out.