CHAPTER 163: CHAPTER 163 THE POLICE

*LORENZO*

I took a deep breath and wander back into the hallway. She was standing outside my darkroom looking at the door and holding a laundry basket.

“It’s a darkroom,” I said as I strode toward her.

Her lovely brown eyes meet mine. She was curious. And I remember that I’d asked Ximena not to clean it sometime ago. It had been a while since I’ve been in it myself.

“I’ll show you.” I was grateful that she doesn’t back away like she normally did. “Do you want to see?”

She nodded, and as I grabbed the laundry basket, my fingers brushed hers. My heart slammed against my ribs. “Let me have this.”

My voice was gruff as I tried to calm the pounding in my chest. Placing the basket on the floor behind me, I open the door, switch on the light, and stood aside to let her enter.

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Danica entered the small room. It glowed with red light and smelled of mysterious chemicals and the stale air of inactivity.

There was a bank of dark counter cabinets lining one wall, with large plastic trays on top. High above the cabinets were shelves crowded with bottles and stacks of paper and photographs. Beneath the shelves was an empty washing line from which a few pegs hang.

“It’s just a darkroom,” he said, and flicks on the dim overhead light so the red glow vanishes.

“Photography?” Danica asks.

He nodded. “It’s a hobby. I thought at one time I would take it up professionally.”

“The photographs in the apartment, you take them?”

“Yes. All of them. I had a few assignments, but...” His voice trailed off.

The landscapes and the nudes.

“I love taking pictures.” He turned to a glass cabinet filled with cameras that was behind him. He opened one of the doors and took out a camera.

******************

*LORENZO*

Danica caught the name “Leica” on the front.

Holding the camera up to my eye, I studied Danica through the lens. She was all dark eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones, and full, parted lips.

My groin tightened.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, and press the shutter.

Her mouth dropped open, but she shook her head and covered her face with her hands, though they don’t conceal her smile. I took another shot.

“You are,” I said. “Look.” And I hold the back of the camera out to her so that she could see the image. She stared down at her face that’s been captured digitally in fine detail and then looked up at me, and I was lost.

Lost in the magic of her dark, dark gaze.

“See,” I murmured.

“You’re stunning.” Reaching forward, I tipped up her chin and, leaning down, inching closer and closer so she had a chance to move away, I brushed my lips against hers. She gasped, and as I pulled back, she touched her fingers to her mouth, her eyes growing rounder.

“That’s how I feel,” I whispered, my heart pounding.

Will she slap me? Will she flee?

She stared at me. An ethereal vision in the muted light, she tentatively raised her hand and traced my lips with her fingertips. I froze, closing my eyes as her tender touch reverberated through my body.

I didn’t dare to breathe.

I didn’t want to frighten her away.

I felt her feather-light touch, everywhere. Everywhere.

Fuck.

And before I could stop myself, I pulled her into my embrace and wrap my arms around her. She melted against the length of my body, her warmth leaching into me.

Oh, man, the feel of her.

I slid my fingers under her scarf and gently slipped it off her head. Clasping her plait at the base of her neck, I tugged lightly, bringing her lips up to mine.

“Danica,” I breathed, and kissed her again, softly, slowly, so as not to frighten her. She stilled in my arms, then brought her hands up to clutch my biceps, closing her eyes as she accepted me.

I deepened the kiss, my tongue teasing her lips, and she opened her mouth.

Fuck.

She tasted of warmth and grace and sweet seduction.

Her tongue hesitant and faltering against mine. It was captivating. It was arousing.

I had to hold myself back.

I wanted nothing more than to bury myself in this girl, but I didn’t think she’ll let me. I draw back.

“What’s my name?” I murmured against her lips.

“Sir...,” she whispered as I ran my thumb down her cheek.

“Lorenzo. Say Lorenzo.”

“Lorenzo,” she breathed.

“Yes.” I loved the sound of my name on her mouth.

See, that wasn’t so hard.

Suddenly there was a loud, insistent banging on the front door.

Who the hell was that? How did they get into the building?

Reluctantly I stepped back. “Don’t go anywhere.” I held up my finger in warning.

“Open the door, Mr. Moretti.” A disembodied voice bellows from outside. “Police!”

“Oh, no,” Danica whispered, and she clutched her throat, her eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

I haven’t committed any crime. Best to my knowledge.

The knock rattled the door once more. “Mr. Moretti!” The voice is perceptibly louder.

“I’ll deal with this,” I muttered, pissed off that we’ve been interrupted. Leaving Danica in the darkroom, I headed down the hallway.

Through the peephole in the front door, I assess the two men outside. One was short, the other was tall, and both were dressed in cheap gray suits and black parkas.

They don’t look particularly official. I pause, debating whether or not to answer.

But I should find out why they’re here and if they were truly police officers.

I thread the sturdy security chain through the catch and open the door.

One of the men tried to burst in, but with my body pressed against the door, the chain held him back. He was the short one.

Thickset and balding, he oozed aggression from every pore in his body and from his sly, shrewd eyes. “Where is she?” he barked.

I recoiled.

Who were these lowlifes?

Baldy’s partner loomed behind him: thin, silent, and menacing. The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

“Can I see some ID?” My voice was equally menacing.

“Open the door. We’re from state CID, and we believe you have a wanted criminal in your apartment.” The stocky guy spoke again as his nostrils flare in anger.

He had a distinct Eastern European accent.

“You need a warrant to search these premises. Where is it?” I hissed with the authority that came from a life of privilege and several years at one of the best public schools abroad.

The large man hesitated for a moment, and I smelled a rat.

Who the fuck were these men?

“Your warrant, where is it?” I snarled.

Baldy looked uncertainly at his cohort.

“Where is the girl?!” The tall, thin bloke yelled.