Liv stared at him with her mouth hanging open. “Pinto’s absolutely harmless.”
“No one’s harmless in New York. He could...do anything to you and no one would know.”
While he ranted and raged around her, she took the opportunity to simply look at him, starved for the sight of him. There was a hint of stubble to his jaw, a sunken, haggard look to his eyes. Yet nothing punctured the potency of his presence. She tucked her hands at her sides, every muscle in her quivering to touch him, to feel his solid strength with her hands.
She raised her gaze and met his, the scorching naked hunger in it robbing the breath from her. Her skin prickled with awareness, jolts of desire, hot as lava, sparking off every inch of her. For long, taut moments, they stood like that, staring at each other.
“Get dressed, we’re leaving.”
She jerked her head, wondering if she heard him right. “Not only did you break the lock on my door, you’re ordering me around now? The landlord will raise my rent again.” Was the man going to ruin everything for her? She shivered as a breeze flew in through the window. “You’re not the boss of me, at least not directly,” she added, as a gleam entered his eyes, “so get out.”
He didn’t say anything. Just maneuvered his tall, lean frame to the narrow counter and stove, which was technically her kitchen. He opened the cupboards above the counter, and the refrigerator, his movements rough and frustrated with each passing second.
He was standing there like he’d every right to, looking down upon her home, ordering her around, chipping away the wall of hurt and anger she had built up.
She did need the word stupid tattooed on her forehead.
She turned around and folded her hands, striving for a calm she wasn’t feeling. Dark color slashed his sharp-angled cheekbones, and her nipples instantly puckered, rasping against the thin material of her tee. “What?” She spat out the word, nothing more coherent coming to her aid.
He loomed over her, a giant, mobile wall of anger. “You have no food, a creep outside that door, you might have a concussion and you’re getting—” she winced as he cursed “—drunk. You’re a hazard to yourself.”
“Not that I’ve to explain myself to you, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
She swallowed as his gaze swept over her breasts. When had he moved so close that she could see the dark shadow of his skin under the white shirt, that she could smell the hint of spice in his cologne enough to buckle her knees?
He raised his hand and ran his long fingers over the graze on her cheek. “And look how well that worked out for you.”
Her breath hitched in her throat.
His mouth was a tight line as he studied the gauze, as if he’d waited on purpose before he acknowledged that she was hurt. “Why didn’t you wait for Carlos, Olivia?” His fingers trembled over her skin. “You know what rabid dogs they can be.”
She did. But she had been so angry and she still couldn’t get over how vicious they had been. She shouldn’t have drawn their interest at all. She had spent the past six months doing everything she could to maintain a low profile, except for the small incident with Vincent. Yet they had come after her just because of her connection to Alexander. His obsession over his privacy made so much sense now. “They just swarmed me as I was leaving King Towers. I’m not even... Anyway, I wanted to hit one idiot. You should see this one. He’ll put the whole horde that hounds you to shame. I can proudly say I’ve provided this particular scumbag with a livelihood so far. But of course, he couldn’t just let me be, he has to put a spin on everything that happens in my life.”
His gaze flickered to hers. “What did he say?”
She tried to even out the hurt from her tone. “He asked me how I was enjoying the success that was bestowed upon me by my brother-in-law.”
“You couldn’t ignore it and walk away?” He sounded ragged, at the end of his rope. “Why do you act on every impulse that runs through your head?”
“Why do you care?” She pushed the words through a throat raw with hurt and longing. She was slowly losing the strength to fight him, to fight this. Every argument with him eroded her decision to keep her distance, every little flash of concern beneath his cutting indifference knocked off a little more of her resistance. “Why are you here, Alexander?”
A huge sigh rattled his body, and he sank to her tiny bed. He tugged her down and she scooted over to keep a little distance between them. His long legs stuck out in front of him as he planted them on an old armchair. He pushed his hair back with his fingers, and held his head in them. “There’s something I need to tell you. And I—” she turned her head, giving into the urge to just look at him; his jaw was locked tight “—wanted to see you.”