décor behind me. Eyes closed, she rested her hands on her purple crystal ball, a cigarette dangling precariously from her lips. She peeked one eye open to look at me, then closed it again in concentration. As her crystal ball filled with smoke and who knows what else, a frown knitted her brows. I let out a gasp when she grabbed my palm, pulling me halfway across the table to look at it. And then she saw something that made her laugh. And laugh. She sat back, rested an elbow on the table, and took a long draw on her cigarette. “So vat do you vant to know?” The fact I put any weight into what she told me should be alarming, but Pd never been able to let her words go. I wanted more than tepid caresses and French conjugations. I wanted more than Sperry loafers and soft hands. What I wanted was someone like this man, with Russian on his tongue and tattoos on his fingers. He bit his cigar between his teeth and winked at me. That wink settled into a tight ball of heat in my stomach as I headed back to his office and changed into a pair of shorts. The bowl of soup sat untouched on the side table while I curled up on the couch and pulled the new mysterious blanket over me. It wasn’t how I thought I would spend my first night in Moscow, and I shivered at the idea of how badly it could have gone... If not for a nautical star necklace. A restaurant. And a man wearing black with secrets in his eyes. Xx The scent of cigar smoke woke me. It invaded my senses, mixing with the deep, masculine scent embedded in the walls forever. I sat up on the couch and met Ronan’s gaze from behind his desk, selfconsciously running my fingers through my long hair. I straightened it religiously, but every time I slept, those unruly curls came back with a