Chapter 3
Ava felt Aleksander’s fingertips brush her nape as he helped her into her coat and lifted her braid from beneath the collar. She hoped he didn’t notice that she trembled ever so slightly at his touch.
His car, a sleek black Ferrari—Ava decided then and there that he didn’t have kids—was already parked at the curb with a doorman holding the door open for him.
Aleksander opened the passenger door, and after Ava was settled, walked around to get behind the wheel.
Soon they were streaking toward her apartment in East Village and in the small space, Ava’s sweet scent again clouded his senses. It had a sexy, almost narcotic quality, and at the same time, it was safe.
The song on the radio spoke of love betrayed, but Ava heard only poetry. It wasn’t until he switched on the windshi
