Aleksander rolled his eyes, not at all thrilled that Thaddeus was again sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. He was sick of being analyzed like a patient even though he could not say his brother’s analysis was off the mark. “I’ll stop by Blackthorn’s and I’ll meet you there.”
“And take that Ferrari of yours out of hiding,” Thaddeus said. “What’s the point of having all that supercharged horsepower and black metal tucked away in your garage?”
Aleksander sighed. “See you at ten.”
Perhaps the electric atmosphere would dissipate some of his dark mood. He needed to keep his spirits up Olivia’s sake.
Park Avenue
Markus Blackthorn’s penthouse
9:00 p.m.
* * *
“I have bad news, and I have worse news,” Aleksander said, looking at his partners. He continued when no one responded with anything other than concerned glances. “I won’t be able to help with the Russian deal for a while because things have taken a turn for the worse with Olivia. I just came from the hospital.”
“Here.” Markus Blackthorn, Aleksander’s partner, put a glass of Macallan whisky in his hand.
“Thanks,” said Aleksander, gulping it down without tasting it. He welcomed the stinging bite burning down his throat. Any kind of pain was preferable to the hellish torment of knowing his daughter was going to die.
“What did they say?” asked Benedict Lockeheart, his other partner.
“They want me to take her home,” he bit out, leaning his head on the back of the sofa and looking up at the towering ceiling of Markus’s living room. “They said…continuing the treatment would only prolong her life without improving the quality. That it’d be better if she spent her…remaining days in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by the people and things she loves.”
“Shit, man, I’m so sorry,” Benedict said, and out of habit, he moved his hand as if to comfort Aleksander, but then he let it fall back in his lap.
Aleksander put his hand over Benedict’s and squeezed. Ever since his partner had lost his eyesight in a criminal explosion at their pharmaceutical company, those telltale little gestures had been diminishing, but they still happened. “Thanks.”
“Have you told her?” Markus asked, sitting beside his wife, Hannah.
“In a way. I asked if she wanted to go home for a while.” Aleksander sighed. “Do you know what she told me? She wants to spend the holidays at Lake Tahoe. And she wants for us to have lots of parties, starting with Thanksgiving dinner, a Christmas night, and a New Year’s party.”
“And?” prompted Benedict.
“As soon as I find a trustworthy caretaker team—and a doctor—to take with us, we’re flying there.” He shook his head. “I’d rather have the same nurses who are already treating her. She likes them and it would be easier for me too, since they already know her…”
“Let me help, Alek,” said Hannah, speaking for the first time. “I’ll gather up this team for you tomorrow.”
He could hear the choked-up emotion in her voice. Hannah had lost her mother to breast cancer a few years before, and after marrying Markus, she dedicated a great part of her time to raising funds for research and volunteering in hospitals. Being pregnant now made her even more sensitive to his and Olivia’s problem. He straightened his neck and gave her a sad smile. “I appreciate it.”
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll talk with the hospital administrator,” she said, with the knowledge that money was a great help at a time like this. “What time will you be at the hospital?”
“Seven probably,” he said. “I like to be there for Olivia’s breakfast. The nurses say she eats better when I’m around.”
“I’ll be there too,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn. “Sorry. It seems I’m always sleepy.”
“Then it’s time to take my son to bed,” Markus pointed out, running his hand over Hannah’s already rounding belly. “We still have a few things to discuss.”
The men rose and she kissed her husband affectionately on the cheek, following up with Benedict. Then she stopped in front of Aleksander and gave him a tight hug. “I promise you this: Olivia will have all her parties.”
She might not have said the word—she might not have even thought it—but he heard it nonetheless: her last parties.
Chapter 2
Sloan Kettering Memorial Cancer Center
9:31 p.m.
* * *
“That was the last patient, Dr. Larsen.”
Ava Larsen looked up from the file on her computer screen and focused on a nurse standing in the doorway with her bag already on her shoulder. “What?”
“That was the last patient of our shift.”
The twelve-hour day is almost at an end. The fourth twelve-hour day of the week. “Ah, yes. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
She listened with half an ear to the clink of locks and the rattle of file drawers as she finished her notations and turned the computer off.
She wanted coffee for the long night of studying she had ahead of her, some clean clothes, and to go home.
She rested her head on the chair thinking about what she’d have to do when she got home before she could finally collapse on her bed.
“Dr. Larsen.”
She sat up quickly and turned to see Doctor Leslie Carter in her doorway. “Hi.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but if you’re close to quitting, I wanted to invite you to come with us to the Rose Bar. It’s Jennie’s birthday today and her father is buying the first round.”
Ava smiled and said, “What is she now, fourteen?”
Both women laughed, then Dr. Carter said, “I know. All of the interns look like they’re still in grade school.” She laughed again. “She’s twenty-four today. Will you join us?”
Ava leaned back in her chair, took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, puffing out her cheeks. “I wish I could. You guys go on, and tell her Happy Birthday for me, okay?” Though she liked people-watching, she had little to no patience for sceney places where she might not be able to get in or may have to wait in line. Besides she had a ton of study to do.
“Okay, but if you change your mind, we’d love to see you there. Jenny’s father made reservations.”
Ava watched her smile, turn, and leave. She could not go out and drink tonight. Well, she could, but she definitely shouldn’t. She was already too far behind in her studies and needed to do some housework she’d been putting off forever.
I never have time for myself. And that thought made her bolt up out of the chair.
“Leslie! Wait up,” she called out, grabbing her purse and heading into the hall. “Let me just freshen up. I’ll meet you in the garage.”
“Sure thing, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
She entered the doctors’ locker room and took out the black dress and heels she kept in her locker for such occasions and quickly changed. Twisting her hair up in a stylish bun, she applied a bit of eye make-up and gloss.
A cursory look at the mirror told her she was elegant enough to be granted entry into the exclusive, high-end lounge where trendy people mixed with an older wealthy crowd.
She might even relax a bit from her stressful day.
The Gramercy Park Hotel, Rose Bar
10:25 p.m.
* * *
Rose Bar, at The Gramercy Park Hotel, had it all—from a pool table to Twombly and Basquiat works adorning the walls. It was busy, but not crowded. But it was pretty impossible to have a normal conversation because of the blasted music. Despite that, his brother tried anyway, asking him why he hadn’t called the woman Thaddeus had introduced him to. “She wants to see you again.”
“Well, that makes one of us. I’m not interested.”
“How could you not be? She’s smokin’ hot. Are you seriously going to deprive your cock a piece of that?”
“What I do with my cock is none of your business.”
“You’re my brother. That makes it family business.”
&n
bsp; Thaddeus was a man on a mission—one that Aleksander didn’t necessarily agree with. “Just drop it, Thaddeus.”
He turned his head to look at something other than his brother, and froze when his eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at a table. Not even the dim light could shadow her beauty.
Her white-blond hair was swept up into a French braid, leaving her long, slender, alabaster throat exposed. Soft tendrils framed her face. She wore a simple, classic long black dress with long sleeves, with an off-the-shoulder neckline that left her collarbone and pale shoulders sensually exposed and complimented her breasts—rather sedate and tasteful for a bar. It wasn’t exactly the kind of dress that drew unwanted male attention but it hypnotized him.
She was gorgeous—ethereal, and at the same time, earthy—and so stunning, so beautiful, he could hardly think a coherent thought.
Sitting alone at a table, sipping a glass of water, Ava looked around the lounge.
There was no arguing that the bar was awesome—sexy and hip—in more original ways than others Ava had been to—not that she had been in many in the last ten years. The grand tall ceilings, the art on the walls, the pool table, and the quirky touches here and there made it almost feel like someone’s home—a really fancy someone.
Everyone in her party had gone dancing and mingling but Ava was not exactly in the mood for it. Then she’d sensed something, something that had coiled her muscles.
When she turned—when she saw him, and their gazes locked—she felt a slow motion one-two punch she hadn’t been able to evade. He was the most handsome—beautiful even—hottest stranger she had ever seen.
He was at a table with another man, and Ava recognized the solitary vibe that surrounded him. It resonated deep inside her. There could have been ten thousand people in the building, and he would have remained detached from them.
She studied him for another moment and couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
Suddenly Aleksander couldn’t seem to draw a breath. He felt as though this were his first time seeing a woman.
He blinked, disoriented at the jarring feeling pressing on his chest. Have I loved you somewhere before?
He thought he wasn’t in the mood for flirting—or anything else that involved a woman—but his body was giving him signs that he might have been wrong. He was so astonished at his reaction, he mumbled, “Jesus.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“What?” he asked.
Thaddeus pointed—not very discreetly—at Ava and said, “Go over there and talk to her.”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Did you think no one noticed you drooling with stars in your eyes?” Thaddeus leaned toward him. “Alek. Brother. Listen to me. I’m being serious now, okay?”
With a raised eyebrow, Aleksander looked at his older brother.
“It’s okay for you to be interested in women. You don’t have to pretend you’re not. Sex is part of life. And you’re allowed to live. You’re not betraying Rachel, or even Olivia for that matter, by taking one night off from all the stress and grief.”
“I guess I wouldn’t complain if I found myself kissing her.” Aleksander glanced over at the blonde beauty. What the hell. I have nothing to lose. Aleksander got up and walked over to the bar and asked for champagne.
A few minutes later, with two flutes in his hand, he approached the sofa she was sitting on, still alone. “Have we met somewhere before?”
The fatigue simply drained away as she looked at him. “I’m certain that we haven’t.” If we had, I’d remember.
Tall, perfectly proportioned body. Broad, straight shoulders. Narrow hips. Long legs.
His hair was a shade of rich chestnut with highlights of cinnamon and honey. Cheekbones high and prominent. Lips so crisply cut they could be sculpted from marble, if they weren’t so sensual.
His perfect proportions hid quite how tall he was until he was right next to her and Ava had to crane her head to look into his amazing, magnetic grayish-green eyes.
Eyes that hinted at pleasures untold, laughter, and if she wasn’t imagining it, there was also some kind of pain held carefully in check.
A strange current zapped through her as if she had touched lightning. Bewildered, she told herself this was impossible. But rational thought was elusive with such remarkable male beauty filling her view.
“I’m Aleksander,” he said with a warm smile.
“Ava.” She smiled back but did not extend an invitation for him to sit.
So, you’re going to play hard-to-get. And that was something he wasn’t accustomed to. Not that he had a lot of experience dating. He didn’t, being that he had been married for more than ten years and had no interest after Rachel’s death just over a year ago. And when he had dated in the past, he’d never had to try hard. Women seemed more than willing to approach him, and his older brother was always ready to set him up. “May I sit?”
Yes, please! She shrugged. “It’s a public place.”
He identified a foreign accent in her nearly-perfect English. “You’re not American, are you?”
“No.”
Not wanting to shout, he scooted closer to her and was hit by her scent, a pure, mouthwatering sweet indulgence, like chocolate, vanilla, and praliné put together with burnt sugar. A dessert cart, and he so wanted to feast on it—her—it took him a moment to recall what he was going to say.
“If you’d care for champagne, I ordered a Dom Perignon Rosé and took the liberty of getting you a flute.” He took a sip from the flute in his right hand, then extended the one in his left to her. “Or you could take mine so you know it’s safe,” he said with a smile, now offering her both glasses.
She took the one from his left hand and said, “For some reason, I trust you.” Which should be ringing alarms in my head already.
“That’s a sign of great intelligence. I’m very trustworthy,” he said, still smiling. The strange feeling of not only having known her from somewhere, but actually having loved her before was still there.
He opened his mouth to ask the question and then shut it again because the woman would think he had lost his mind. Hell, I feel a bit crazy myself.
She smiled and lifted her glass to her lightly shaded lips. “Mmm.” Her eyes closed on their own volition when the champagne hit her tongue.
He enjoyed her reaction immensely, the flutter of the lashes, the faint flush, the closing of the eyes—a similar response to a woman purring under a man’s hands. The skin at her throat looked like cream; he wanted to lick it up, taste the heat of her neck, and press his body up against her. He shook his head. I thought I was immune to this shit! “Problem?”
She opened her eyes to look at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had champagne?”
I wish I did. His lips curled up. “No.”
“Neither do I.”
He chortled. “If you have the same memory loss regarding your last good meal, we can—”
“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said, cutting him off, “this is a private moment.” Unashamed, she closed her eyes as she lifted the flute to her lips again.
“As you wish.” He watched her as she gave herself to the pleasure of drinking a good vintage champagne and he could almost taste it through her. Not knowing what she would like to eat, he signaled the waiter and ordered one portion of risotto croquettes and one of bruschettas.
Almost as if he was thinking out loud, Aleksander said, “It’s strange. I didn’t even want to come here tonight, but I did for some reason. And as soon as I saw you, I knew what the reason was.”
“Oh?” It was a husky question.
He didn’t say anything for a moment as the waiter arrived with their snacks and the champagne bottle in a silver bucket.
“It’s not a line,” he offered, after he shooed the waiter away and refilled her flute himself. “Do you think I’m exaggerating?”
She peered up at him through her lashes. “Maybe. Maybe not
. I think you’re a man who’s had a lot of practice charming women into bed.”
Her bluntness took him by surprise for the briefest of moments.
“I’m not, sorry to disappoint,” he said, shaking his head, amused. “So you don’t believe people can have an instant attraction to each other?”
“Sure I do, a physical one,” she said, with a chuckle, and then her eyes returned to her flute. “But then after the initial attraction wears off, they show their true stripes.”
Just when he thought he’d broken through her guard, she’d thrown him a curveball.
Ava realized that she hadn’t checked Aleksander’s hand for a wedding band. She glanced at the appropriate finger and saw a white strip where the ring had been.
“I’m a widower,” he told her with a slight smile, obviously having read her glance accurately.
“I’m sorry,” Ava told him.
“It’s been a year.”
“That’s quite a while,” she said, wondering if she should just get up, collect her bag and coat, and leave. It seemed to Ava that the white space on his ring finger should have filled in after a whole year.
Aleksander sighed. “Sometimes it seems like a century.”
Ava bit her lower lip, then burst out, “You aren’t one of those creeps who goes around saying he doesn’t have a wife when he really does, are you?”
“Wow…now I am mortally offended.” He put a hand over his heart.
Ava picked up a bruschetta and put it in her mouth, ashamed that she’d asked the question, even though she wouldn’t have taken it back. The experience with Otto Grinberg, her latest, long-ago scumbag of a boyfriend—if one could call him such—had taught her that a woman couldn’t be too careful about such things.
“Ava?”
She lifted her gaze to see him studying her. “What?”
“What was his name?”
She blinked. “What was whose name?”
“The guy who told you he wasn’t married.”