Irresistible Nemesis Read online

  “So they’re using my people as a scapegoat? Why now?” Natasha glared back at him with a mixture of both skepticism and seething hostility.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a particular group of individuals was singled out amongst us,” Andreas retorted. “Think back to the 15th century, when the Romanians fought against the Ottoman Empire. That battle wasn’t over land. It was nothing more than a cover up to conceal one vampire’s blood-thirsty rampage.”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way.” Natasha cocked her head to the side as if considering the possibility.

  Then she lifted her hand to her mouth, her lips forming into a perfect “O.” Andreas saw recognition weave its way through her subconscious. “But this time, there’s more to it than just putting an end to one madman’s killing spree. Natasha, it may come down to them implicating you, specifically. They feel the Russians are under your jurisdiction. It’s possible they will blame you for what transpired.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I had nothing to do with either of those incidents. Andreas, you’ve got to speak to the board on my behalf. I have served you well all these years.” A single tear rolled down her battle-hardened cheek.

  Andreas wanted to wrap her up in his warm embrace and take away the hurt reflected in her eyes. But he knew she would take it the wrong way. Instead, he squeezed her shoulder in support. “They plan to meet next week to discuss Ivan’s fate. Don’t worry. My father and I have your back. I’m just asking that we be very diligent in the future.

  It is imperative that we adhere to the employee code of conduct that’s already in place. No exceptions.”

  Natasha straightened her shoulders and shook her head from left to right. “No exceptions. I couldn’t agree with you more. I admit that in the past, I have been more lenient than is acceptable. That type of blatant abuse won’t be tolerated in the future.”

  “Good. I’m glad we came to consensus on this matter.” Andreas heaved a sigh of relief. He stood up and grabbed his tuxedo jacket before he escorted Natasha out of the house to the waiting limousine. “Let’s just hope those old geezers take it easy on us next week.”

  Chapter Eight

  A Soiree at the MET

  Eva’s strapless, black-sequined gown shimmered like diamonds against the backdrop as a swarm of paparazzi gathered around. Their flashbulbs clouding her vision. She held on to Oliver’s arm as they made their way up the red carpet toward the main entrance of the museum.

  “You look absolutely ravishing, my dear.” Oliver used the crook of his finger to force her to look up at him. Eva lowered her lashes and bit down on her bottom lip. Compliments weren’t her cup of tea. She didn’t like to attend high-class soirees like this either. But they were just a part of the job. Still, Eva had gone above and beyond this time. If she was perfectly honest, she’d admit there was only one pair of eyes she wanted to attract at tonight’s gala. Those eyes belonged to the elusive Mr. Andreas Kristopolous.

  “It’s a good thing you’re my BFF. Otherwise, I’d swear you just tried to hit on me!” Eva let an innocent giggle slip out. Sure she cleaned up well. But in her opinion, nothing close to the vivacious vixen Oliver claimed she’d blossomed into.

  Her floor-length, fitted gown clung to her like a second skin. It emphasized voluptuous curves and a provocative little slit up the side that left nothing to the imagination. A mass of dark brown hair was swept into an up-do, as soft ringlets cascaded down her bare shoulders. With only a hint of make-up to add color to her cheeks, Eva’s natural beauty made her truly luminous.

  Eventually they reached the west wing of the museum where the event was being held, and Oliver handed their engraved invitation to the man at the door. He took several minutes to flip through the guest list before he eventually granted them admittance. Once inside the exhibition hall, Eva found the room bustling with people, each one a member of New York’s exclusive social elite. While some were here for philanthropic reasons, the majority merely vied for the cover of the latest celebrity tabloid. Scantily-clad bimbos sipped champagne and eyed one another with disdain. Eva began to work the crowd a little. After all, snacking on caviar and Dom Perignon while she rubbed elbows with the rich and famous was par for the course.

  “Oliver, would you mind getting us a couple of drinks? I’m going to mingle a bit.” She told him. Then sauntered away with a mischievous little smirk on her face.

  “Are you positive that’s a good idea? Please promise me you won’t do anything outrageous.” Oliver pressed his palms together as he pleaded for her cooperation.

  “Cross my heart.” Eva traced the sign of the cross over her chest. “I’m a Catholic school girl, remember? I can do no wrong.”

  “Yes, I remember. But you seem to forget that I attended Catholic schools as well,” Oliver quipped sanctimoniously. “And the young ladies I knew were better known for their risqué behavior than anything else.”

  “There’s a time and place for everything,” Eva replied. She prowled across the dance floor like a cat ready to pounce.

  Her objective for the evening. To seek out Andreas Kristopolous and ensnare him with her powers of seduction. The only way to earn his trust was to give into their mutual attraction. And trust was all she needed to crack this case wide open.

  Eva heard the crinkling of taffeta and lace and turned as a tall red-head stalked toward her. “Excuse me, Miss. You look so familiar.” She gazed up at the statuesque beauty with the creamy, white complexion. Struck by the woman’s cat-like slink and sinister green-grey eyes, the hair on the back of Eva’s neck stood on end.

  Everything about her screamed trouble. “Have we met before? Maybe on the arts council? Or possibly the New York City Literacy Project?” As the woman spoke, Eva caught a glimpse of her sharp, elongated fangs. Vampire. She’d seen her somewhere. But for the life of her, Eva couldn’t figure out where they crossed paths? After slaying vampires day after day for the past five years, names and faces blurred together. On top of all that, Andreas had her emotions twisted in knots. It was a damn good thing she had Oliver to help her sort through it all.

  “We may have run into one another in the past. But it wouldn’t have been in the capacity you speak of.” Eva waved off the prickling sensation crawling up and down her spine. “A friend of mine convinced me to attend this little shindig at the last minute. I don’t normally come to events like this. It’s just not my scene.”

  “Yes, that’s rather obvious.” The female vampire stood with both hands perched on her hips. She almost dared Eva to end her miserable existence.

  Just then the disrespectful wench stuck out her hand to introduce herself. “My name is Natasha. Natasha Blagovich. Oh, and the next time your friend needs a date, tell him to steer clear of trailer parks. They produce the foulest trash you can imagine.” Without another word, the vampire bitch turned and walked away. She stopped a few feet away and snatched a champagne flute off a serving tray. After she chugged half the glass, she peered over her shoulder and threatened the huntress with a flash of her deadly incisors. Eva tsked and shook her head. Natasha Blogovich wouldn’t intimidate her. Once she repeated the woman’s name in her head, it hit her. Natasha Blagovich was Andreas’s right hand man, or in this case, woman. She remembered seeing her face in the photograph from the Interpol file she handed over to Oliver that morning. However, instead of the waist-length fiery coif portrayed in that outdated photograph, Natasha’s hair hung in a shoulder-length bob.

  It wasn’t the photograph that jogged Eva’s memory. On the contrary, a vision appeared in her head. One of two blondes and a red-head lounging on a luxurious sofa, draped over Andreas like a trio of cheap suits. Suddenly, Eva had the urge to claw the bitch’s eyes out.

  Where’d that idea come from? Could it be that Eva was a tad bit jealous of Andreas’s relationship with his head of security? Not possible. The man was an ass. Plain and simple.

  Speak of the devil. No sooner had his arrogant-as-all-hell image popped into her head, did E
va spot him engaged in conversation with two people across the room. One of them, she recognized as Father Mancini. What was Andreas doing chatting up a man of the cloth? Maybe there was more to Father Mancini than meets the eye. She would have to do a bit more investigative work to get to the source of the unexpected development.

  The other person involved in the discussion was a woman. She looked like a librarian. A middle-aged, spinster sporting an ultra-conservative pants suit and a pair of Coke-bottle glasses. According to her nametag, Ms. Louise Shepard worked as the museum’s curator.

  Apparently, even stuffy intellectuals fell subject to the man’s infallible charm and charisma.

  ****

  Andreas spied her out of the corner of his eye as Eva inched closer. She tried to look preoccupied with the paintings hung along the south wall, but every now and again he saw her eyes dart in his direction. She must have caught him staring. Andreas couldn’t help it.

  She was breathtaking. His reaction to her instantaneous. The increased heart rate, sweaty palms, and painfully-erect cock he experienced started to feel like second nature anytime Eva was within a one-mile radius. He felt compelled to go to her and politely attempted to extricate himself from his two companions. But the damn woman next to him kept squawking like a lovesick turtle dove.

  If he didn’t need her endorsement in his bid for chairman of the arts council, he’d have blown her off hours ago. Before long, Eva found a way to infiltrate the small group of people surrounding him.

  “Father Mancini, it’s so good to see you.” Eva tapped the priest on the shoulder. Her smile spread from ear to ear as she pulled the old man into an embrace. “I had no idea you were a patron of the arts. How are you?”

  “As well as can be expected for a man of my age.” Father Mancini chuckled with robust enthusiasm, his swollen belly rumbled underneath his pristine-white tuxedo shirt. Then Father Mancini frowned and shot Eva a noticeable look of disapproval. “I didn’t see you in Mass last Sunday. You promised me I’d get to see your pretty face more often.”

  Andreas moved closer to Eva. He discretely placed the palm of his hand at the small of her back. Eva shivered at his touch. Goose bumps formed on the soft skin of her bare arm. “I agree, Father. She does have a very beautiful face.”

  “Dear Lord, forgive me. Pardon my rude behavior. Please let me introduce you to everyone.” Father Mancini talked with his hands as he motioned to the others in the group in typical Italian-American fashion. “May I present Ms. Louise Shepard. Louise is the curator here at the museum.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Shepard.” Eva smiled warmly and gently shook the other woman’s hand.

  “This is Eva Sambucco, a parishioner of mine at St. Patrick’s.” The priest focused his attention on the huntress. Then he cocked his head to the side and took note of Andreas’s hand on her back before smiling. “Eva, it seems you’ve already met Mr. Kristopolous. He’s an old friend of mine. He is also a member of the Arts—” She cut him off before he could finish. “Thank you for the introduction, Father. Your skills of deduction are impeccable. Mr.

  Kristopolous and I are well-acquainted. You might say that we work in some of the same circles.”

  “Well then, you must know that Mr. Kristopolous is the man responsible for tonight’s festivities, as well as for this beautiful new edition to the MET?” he asked.

  Andreas put his index finger to his lips in an effort to shush the older man. He didn’t need anyone to toot his horn. His ego was as healthy as any other millionaire in the room. “Father, please. I’m trying to keep a low profile.” Andreas joked with the priest as if they were old schoolmates.

  Ms. Shepard came to stand on the other side of Andreas and locked her arm in his. “No need to be bashful, Mr. Kristopolous,” the curator said before turning her attention to Eva. “Our friend here just bequeathed his late mother’s entire Picasso collection to the museum.

  It was her last wish before she died. It’s valued at nearly $50 million.” Andreas felt the muscles in Eva’s back tense and took note of the menacing glare she shot at the hapless Ms. Shepard. By now, he knew the huntress well enough to sense when she was about to attack.

  If Andreas didn’t know any better, he would swear Eva was jealous of the museum curator. Oddly, the gesture made him grin. He pulled Eva closer and rubbed his hand over her bare shoulder in an effort to still the rage. But in truth, this new territorial side of the huntress made his cock as hard as steel.

  “How fortunate that the MET can take advantage of Mr.

  Kristopolous’s generous donation.” Eva leaned into Andreas and wrapped her arm around his waist. Clearly, the huntress meant to stake her claim on him. Poor Louise didn’t have a clue who she was dealing with.

  Eva tugged on the lapels of his tuxedo jacket and forced him to meet her gaze. Her expression turned serious. “Your mother must have been quite some woman.”

  Her words took him by surprise. Andreas lowered his head and placed a hand over his heart in remembrance of his beloved mother. “Yes. We were very close. She was definitely one of a kind.” He hadn’t had time to think about his mother much lately. But the opening of the Picasso wing had the potential to get him feeling nostalgic. It took a woman as special as Eva to get him to realize it.

  “She was, indeed,” Father Mancini interjected. “Such a caring and compassionate woman. Christine did a lot for this community.

  She was a faithful Catholic, too. You could count on her to be front and center at Saturday evening Mass each and every week.”

  “Well, I should get going. My date must be looking for me by now.” Eva glanced out of the corner of her eye to see Andreas’s reaction. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Shepard.”

  “Likewise, Ms. Sambucco.” Louise kept herself firmly glued to Andreas’s side as she reached out to shake Eva’s hand. The huntress took a small step back and bowed her head with a smile, and politely refused to accept Ms. Shepard’s outstretched hand. Without another word, Eva turned and walked away.

  Father Mancini called to Eva as she moved through the crowd across the dance floor. “I’ll expect to see you at Mass on Sunday, young lady.”

  Eva winked at the old man over her shoulder as she made her way to the other side of the room. She headed straight toward Oliver who stood next to the bar in the far edge of the dance floor. Andreas watched her converse with her boss. She covered her mouth, giggling like an innocent school girl. Oliver let his shoulders droop, clearly relaxed in the huntress’s presence. The two seemed completely comfortable with each other.

  Eva spoke briefly to the bartender before he handed her what looked like a shot of whiskey. Andreas’s gaze locked on her as she downed the drink, the muscles of throat constricted as she swallowed.

  Damn if the woman wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He’d been hard since he first spotted her across the room, and he had to have her.

  Eva glanced at him sideways. She licked her lips provocatively then grabbed Oliver by the hand and led him to the dance floor.

  Andreas watched as his would-be assassin glided across the room. His gaze remained riveted on her as she pirouetted on the ballroom’s marble tiles like a wing-tipped angel. Eva’s flawless beauty and impeccable grace unsurpassed by the flock of worthless chits in the room. So why on earth was she waltzing with her boss, a man more than twice her age and absolutely no sense of style? He’d never had much of an opinion about Oliver Polinski, even though several members of his coven wanted his head on a platter. But seeing him so close to Eva, one hand resting on the curve of her hip and the other caressing her bare shoulder, made him want snap the man’s neck in two.

  Three songs played as if in slow motion. Andreas tried to talk some sense into himself. He suddenly understood Eva’s reaction to Ms. Shepard.

  Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing going on between them.

  And even if there were, you have no claim on her.

  When the fourth song, a slow-tempo samba, played ov
er the loudspeaker, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He was about to cut in when he noticed Ivan Olshanskey headed toward the couple, with Natasha dogging his heels. Andreas hesitated. The last thing he wanted was a cat fight to ruin his chances to get on the arts council.

  He could read lips well enough to know that Ivan was verifying some basic information about Eva including her name and address. Ivan evidently asked to see her invitation. She whipped it out and handed it to him with a hint of agitation.

  “I knew that little tramp was a party crasher. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have acted so defensive.” Natasha shouted over Ivan’s broad shoulder as Andreas approached the crowd. He saw the color of her eyes shift and knew he had to intervene before the ladies inadvertently unsheathed their claws.

  “Ladies and gentleman, what seems to be the problem?” Andreas stared back and forth between Eva and his two employees.

  His arms crossed in front of his chest. “Surely, this matter can be resolved without causing an embarrassing scene.” Eva stood still, her shoulders rigid and her head held high.

  “Your red-headed stepchild is upset because I upstaged her on the dance floor. The bitch is using her bodyguard to try and intimidate me and my friend, forcing us to leave your little soiree.”

  “Now Eva, that kind of talk is unbecoming of a lady of your stature.” Again Andreas recognized the cues from Eva’s body language. She was coiled tight, ready for battle. He placed his hand at the base of her skull, and massaged the tight muscles in her neck.

  Then, he turned to his head of security. “And Natasha, what do you think you’re doing harassing my guests?”