Monochrome Interview Read online

  She set her jaw. Any warmth coursing her system fizzled out the moment those words left his mouth. He did a background check on me and dared to fling it in my face like a dirty rag?

  “I look into everyone I deal with, Abby.” His frosty words were like a stab in the gut. “You are no exception.”

  “Please leave,” she forced through gritted teeth.

  Alexander smirked and took a sip of his coffee. “Perhaps next time you won’t have to put on an act to try and deter me. I have lived long enough to be able to see through people like you.”

  “According to my research, you’ve inherited the club from your father. My boss—”

  He removed her glasses and undid the hair tie that sent her fiery locks cascading around her shoulders like a curtain. “There, you are much more pleasing to the eye. Don’t you agree?”

  “Get out!” she yelled.

  Alexander pointed to his drink. “But I have not finished my coffee…”

  “Leave!” she snapped, louder.

  He inclined his head. “Come to Russian Roulette when you think you can handle me, young lady.” With that, he ambled out of her apartment.

  Abigail simmered with anger. She stormed into her bedroom and screamed her frustrations into her pillow. Money may have given him a glance at the real her, but she would be damned if she went to see him again. He didn’t deserve another second of her time.

  After she threw the pillow across the room, she took a shower and climbed into bed. Every time she closed her eyes, those silver eyes haunted her.

  What on earth is wrong with me?

  Unable to sleep that night, she took her laptop to bed and started her research on Russian Roulette. None of the articles had any photos available. What caught her attention was that every owner’s name was Alexander. She assumed that it originally belonged to his grandfather since it wasn’t uncommon for businesses to remain in the family. The fact that no photos of his family existed bothered her. Before their interview, Jennifer warned her not to take any photos, either.

  Is he camera shy?

  She relaxed against the headboard and tapped her chin with her index finger. No matter what it was, when it came to Alexander, things didn’t fit right. He was gorgeous. His charm, movements, behaviour, accent—they all spoke volumes about a man full of experience in life and women. The only problem was that on paper he was twenty-five. And, unless she was writing a fantasy story, she’d think he was Dracula in disguise. She snorted. The stress of her father’s hospital bills was getting to her.

  Abigail scratched her head as his words replayed in her mind, ‘I have lived long enough to be able to see through people like you.’ What did he mean by that? Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he couldn’t possibly master the skill of knowing who the person was with a single look.

  She recalled the speed with which he’d brought her into his office last night. One moment she was on the last step of the stairs and the next he had her back pressed against a wall a dozen feet away.

  How did I miss this before? More importantly, how did he do it?

  CHAPTER 4

  “You can’t tell me it’s not even a little bit strange,” Abigail protested.

  Jennifer, her boss and the only woman in the world she respected, sighed. “I think you’re a little fixated on him. Did you inadvertently fall for Alexander?”

  “Of course not!”

  Leaning back in her leather chair, Jennifer raised a dark brow. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Look, I’ve warned you about him. He can get under your skin. Just drop this issue and move on. Walk away while I can still protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  Her boss folded her arms. “From yourself. Your curiosity will get the best of you and, before you know it, you’ll be going through his bins or worse, stalking him.”

  Abigail snorted. She hadn’t considered going through his rubbish. It wouldn’t help her figure out who he really was.

  Could Jennifer be right? Am I fixated on him for no reason?

  She rubbed her tired eyes. She spent her night trying to do more research into the Grekov family. The problem was that nothing came up. It was as if Alexander didn’t exist beyond a dozen media articles advertising his club. Her gut told her that he was hiding something, and, whatever it was, she wanted to bring it out into the light.

  “Until I have something solid, you will keep thinking I’m crazy. I get it.”

  Jennifer groaned. “What you need is some time off to see your dad. When was the last time you’ve visited him?”

  “Last month, I think.” She slapped her forehead. “Crap! I forgot it’s his birthday today.”

  “I’ll let you get off work early to see him. Don’t forget you have to interview the O’Briens on Monday since I can’t make it.”

  Abigail pursed her lips. “Yeah, I’ll do that. And the main reason I came here is because I have to request some time off in two weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “I have jury duty. The note said that if I’m not selected for the panel, I’ll be able to come to work after midday.”

  “That’s fine. Just send me an e-mail about it later.” Jennifer gave her a warm smile. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

  Abigail grinned. “Will do.”

  She finished her paperwork for the day and e-mailed Jen the request for a leave of absence before grabbing her jacket and heading out. In her head, Abigail ticked off the items she had to pick up for her dad. By the time she got to the ground floor, she decided on buying a couple of books from a bookstore. He was addicted to thrillers and what better way to spend the time in a hospital than in another world?

  Abigail walked into the ward with a bouquet of red roses and the brightest smile she could muster. Her lips tugged downwards only a fraction when she saw her dad. He had lost weight again. His skin was stretched over his high cheekbones and strong jaw. After the recent round of chemo, his complexion appeared paler than the magnolia paint on the walls.

  “Hey, Dad! How’s the best man in the world doing?” She gave him a tight squeeze.

  He chuckled. “I’m better now you’re here. John over there”—he nodded at the man in the adjacent bed—“was telling me how badly I needed to buy insurance from his daughter.”

  The grey-haired man in his late fifties laughed. “Better now than never, Neil.”

  Her father shook his head. “I’ll get it when I can afford it.”

  “Oh, she’ll do you a deal. I’m sure of it.”

  Abigail interjected, “I see you two are getting along.”

  Her dad patted her hand. “We only do until it’s poker night. Then, all bets are off.”

  She let out a laugh and put the fresh flowers in a vase by his bedside. Once she was done, Abigail handed him a bag full of books. “I picked up some crime thrillers for you. Thought you’d like them.”

  He fished out the top two novels and his eyes twinkled with excitement. “I can always count on you, Abby.”

  She cringed at the name. “Yeah. Any news from your doctor?”

  “Nothing much,” he said, setting the books aside. “I’m getting better, according to him, and our nurse has been eyeing me up.”

  John snorted. “Leanne was checking me out, not you.”

  Her father turned to him. “Is that what I should tell your wife next time she visits?”

  John raised his hands in defence. “Okay, I get the point. I’ll get back to watching the rugby match…”

  Abigail’s eyes watered. She was so glad to see her dad full of energy regardless of the dark circles under his eyes. She pulled up a chair. Holding his veiny hand, she squeezed it, making sure he was still there. “When you get out of here, we’re going on a pub crawl.”

  “You really are my daughter,” he said with a loving smile. “And the best one at that.”

  Her heart swelled. To prevent the waterworks from starting, she reached into the paper bag and handed him a chocolate cupcake with a single ca
ndle stuck in the middle. Out of her handbag, she produced a lighter and lit the tiny flame. “Shall we get this party started before the nurse comes to check on you?”

  He chuckled. “Definitely my girl.”

  ALEXANDER

  Alexander’s fingers flew across the keys of his laptop as he typed a business e-mail to his partners in the US. He was about to send it when he realised he had put Abigail’s name at the bottom. With a frown forming on his brow, he backspaced her name, removing a letter at a time. She hadn’t showed up as he had expected. Usually, after countering a woman in their game, they came seeking revenge.

  Am I disappointed?

  He sent the e-mail and checked the time. She would have finished work three hours ago. It wouldn’t take more than an hour to get to his club, less if she took a taxi.

  “No, this is for the better…” He grabbed his drink. Taking a sip, he couldn’t seem to enjoy the taste of scotch gliding down his throat as he thought of her spread out beneath him. Alexander muttered a curse and slammed his drink down, splashing the paperwork.

  He picked up his phone and called the top two girls on his list. Thirty minutes later, they were in his office, running their hands all over his chest as he reclined on the king-sized bed.

  “What is the matter? You don’t seem to be into it tonight,” London—a busty brunette—whispered into his ear.

  Her twin, Jess, bit his earlobe playfully, and he let out a groan. “Cheer up. We’re going to take good care of you.”

  Alexander cupped Jess’ cheek. He tilted her head to one side, exposing her neck. Like an obedient little lamb, she leant in.

  He planted a soft kiss against her pulsating vein. To answer his call, her heart rate jumped to match her excitement. His fangs extended, and he sank them into her neck, summoning an audible moan from the model. He let his energy coil around Jess, soothing her pain and bringing forth her pleasure.

  Jess gasped when he moved his hand to her soft breasts. She belonged to him and his will.

  The door to his office glided open and his lust died the instant he found Abigail standing there with her mouth agape.

  Separating from the girl, Alexander bit his thumb and rubbed his blood on Jess’ raw wound. “Abigail, I’ve been waiting for you…”

  She paled, taking a step back. “Did you just bite her?”

  “Of course not. That could kill her, right girls?” he glanced at London and her sister.

  The girls nodded, sliding off the bed.

  “I take it you want us to leave?” London pouted

  Alexander smiled. “Yes. I’ll call you again.”

  On their way out of the room, Abigail assessed Jess’ neck like a hawk. When she didn’t see anything other than his blood on the model’s pearlescent skin, she frowned. “I definitely saw you bite her…”

  “All a part of your wild imagination,” Alexander assured her, getting up.

  She backed up another step. One more and she would be out of his office’s bounds. “So what? Do you just pretend you’re a vampire with your hookers?”

  “They’re models,” he corrected her. “But you already know that. Why the name-calling then? Are you jealous?”

  Abigail’s brows jumped. “Why would I be? You’re not appealing at all with blood smeared on your face.”

  “Ah, does that mean I am appealing without it?”

  “No!”

  He chuckled, taking out a handkerchief from his trousers’ pocket. With measured movements, he dabbed at the corners of his mouth and lips. “Why did you come here?”

  “Because I know you’re hiding something.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She snorted. “Seriously? You think this blood fetish doesn’t make you even a bit suspicious?”

  “You have a point.” He kept his distance in case she wanted to run away. After what she had seen, he couldn’t let her out without making sure she would stop seeking the truth.

  But do I want her to stop?

  He wanted to taste her. Her vanilla scent had wormed its way under his skin; another reason to keep away from this woman.

  Would having her for a night dissolve my interest?

  He shook his head. He did not fuck redheads. They were trouble, each and every last one of them. Just like my Katharine…

  “I suggest you leave here,” he said, his humour gone, “unless you wish to spend the night in my bed.”

  “You’re so full of yourself!”

  Before she could blink, he appeared in front of her, causing her to catch her breath. He wound his arm around her waist and slammed her against his body. “For your own sake, Abby, I suggest you leave.”

  “You know I don’t like that name,” she hissed, but her eyes betrayed the pleasure she took from his touch.

  Alexander lowered his head. His lips hovered next to her ear, and he whispered, “Abigail.”

  Her heart jolted—a sound that was almost musical when their eyes locked. Without the glasses, she was beautiful. Her full lips begged to be assaulted with a powerful kiss and her pupils dilated, making the darkness swallow the amber in her irises. Although he knew he should walk away, he couldn’t let her go. His fingers tightened on her back. She was so fragile…so human.

  “You’re a terrible man,” she whispered.

  “I know.”

  “I’m going to find out your secrets.”

  He smirked. “It would be best for you to believe I am a man with a penchant for theatrics and a blood fetish.”

  She brushed her fingers along the outline of his chiselled jaw. Her electric touch against his faint stubble made him close his eyes, so he could enjoy it to the fullest.

  “I hate liars, Alexander. And I can’t help but think you’re one of them.”

  Her words sobered him up, and he released her. “If you’re not here to share my bed then leave. I have business to attend to.”

  “Change of the subject. I was right,” she retorted, adjusting her leather jacket. “I’ll reveal the truth to the world whether you like it or not.”

  “The truth may not be something you can handle.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She stormed out of his office.

  CHAPTER 5

  ABIGAIL

  Abigail slammed the empty pint glass down on the lacquered table in the busy pub. “I hate men like him! All they do is fuck, use women, and act like they’re better than everyone else.”

  Her best friend, Ursula O’Neill, laughed as she lifted a pint of Budweiser to her lips. “Is he hot?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Ursula cocked a brow. “Everything.”

  “He’s a little hot,” Abigail admitted against her better judgement. She was sure it was the alcohol in her system talking and not her logical brain, which seemed to be taking a prolonged vacation.

  “So, you’re what? Interested in the guy?”

  “Of course not!” Abigail shouted, causing at least five guys at the bar to peel away from the rugby match that was playing out on the TV. She covered her face with her hand and grabbed her glass. “I’m going to get another drink.”

  “You’re running away again,” Ursula called after her.

  Abigail shook her head and ordered another pint from the tired-looking bartender. After getting her drink, she returned to the table with renewed determination to never see Alexander again. He was like the plague. If she didn’t distance herself from him soon, he would consume her and possibly be the death of her. Her secret thoughts made her blush. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, she wouldn’t mind being consumed by him for a night or two under the silk sheets. That hot idea vanished as soon as it came when she recalled him being in bed with two stick-thin models.

  “That man deserves to die,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Ursula snorted. “That’s why you’ll never last in a relationship if you keep picking the wrong guys. How about I set you up on a date with my co-worker? He’s single, cute, even plays a guitar
.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “You make it sound like a mother trying to hook up her thirty-year-old son who won’t leave the basement.”

  “Nah, he’s not thirty…twenty-eight to be exact. Got the abs of an underwear model.”

  Suddenly interested, Abigail leant in. “Really?”

  “Yeah, like an eight-pack. I nearly fainted when I saw that.” She fanned herself and her cheeks turned rosy. “Ah, if I wasn’t getting married in four months, I’d jump his bones.”

  Abigail traced her finger along the rim of her glass. This was a good chance to move on from her previous disaster of a relationship and, finally, start again with someone nice. She took Ursula’s hand and grinned. “Introduce us!”

  Her best friend giggled. “I knew that would work. All you need is abs.”

  “Hey, a fine physique is never a bad thing!”

  “And that’s why the only guys you’ve dated until now turned out to be stuck-up assholes.”

  “But they were hot stuck-up assholes,” Abigail corrected.

  They both burst out laughing and finished their drinks. Once they finalised the details of her date for Sunday evening with the mysterious co-worker, they left the pub and walked up the road to a taxi stop.

  “You sure you don’t want to catch a taxi with me?” Ursula asked.

  “Yeah, it’s only a ten-minute walk. It’ll help me walk off some of the drunkenness.”

  “You’ve never been drunk in your life.” Ursula checked the time on her phone and climbed into the available taxi. “Text me when you get home safely!”

  “Will do. Take care of yourself.” She waved goodbye to her friend and watched the taxi merge with the traffic.

  Wrapping her jacket tighter around herself, Abigail crossed the road and traipsed along the pavement. The old cobbled ground made it hard to walk in heels. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders and sighed. Maybe a caring guy in her life would help her get over this peculiar fascination she had with Alexander and his club.