And why were you standing forlorn in a corner waiting to be saved by your court jester in shining armor?”
Salomeh stared off into the distance for a moment as though she was contemplating her answer.
“Yes, Marta invited me. She lives in the building, obviously. And as for my damsel-in-distress routine, you made me promise to act like I was having fun, so let’s not discuss that.” Salomeh paused and then gave him a look of pure curiosity. “What’s up with this crazy accent? I can’t place it. It’s not French or Italian, but it sounds Indo-European. I think. It’s not one of those random Hellenic languages, is it?”
Julian hadn’t known his inner language nerd was capable of arousal, but hearing Salomeh discuss linguistic groupings was basically intellectual foreplay. In addition to getting him wound up, he realized this discussion could segue into discussing Bardhyn if he played it right. “My accent isn’t ‘crazy,’” he said disdainfully. “It’s Albanian, and it’s much sexier than either a French or Italian accent. American accents don’t even rate a mention, of course.”
He held his head up haughtily, extending his pinky as he took a sip of his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye to catch her reaction.
She smiled and shrugged unapologetically at him. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she said. “All the boys with the cute accents are already taken, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”
She stared into her drink, concentrating as if you could tell fortunes from soda bubbles. She was embarrassed by her admission. Julian almost allowed himself to be distracted by the implications of her words, but reined his ego in.
Get it together, man, he chided himself. It wasn’t as if he’d never charmed an attractive woman.
“Since the accent is unfamiliar, I take it you’ve never met an Albanian before?” he pressed.
“Surprisingly, I haven’t. You’re my first,” she said with a sly grin that made Julian’s cock stiffen, but then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, wait!”
“Yes?” Julian asked expectantly.
“The super in my last building was Albanian. I used to bring him books for his kids because he wanted them to learn about everything,” she said with a pleased smile that faded. “He sometimes told me stories about how everything fell apart in his country. Some of the stuff he told me was very hard to listen to. Families being killed, lives destroyed by war, and all for nothing.”
For a millisecond, anger pulsed in Julian’s veins. As hypocritical as it was, the thought that Salomeh was playing him, that she knew about his parents and sister and his lonely days fighting a war with the hope he would be granted the release of death, infuriated him.
Did Bardhyn put her up to this? he wondered.
But then something in her eyes softened, and her hand was warm against his arm again, understanding in her touch as she ran her palm over the old wounds.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought that up. It was tactless of me.”
“It’s okay, although you should know there’s a lot more to the country than death and pain,” he said, though it was the first time he had acknowledged that in years. “We also have very beautiful beaches.”
“Are you going to try to sell me a timeshare?” she asked with a smirk.
She doesn’t know anything, he thought. She can’t help you catch Bardhyn. She probably didn’t even know he was the one responsible for what had happened to her. Julian would fix this for her, but there was nothing that could be done until at least the next day. The transcripts would have to be cleared for release as evidence in order for her to be exonerated, and that couldn’t happen until they took down Bardhyn.
Julian put his drink down on a nearby banquet table and stepped closer to her. If she didn’t have any information that would be useful to the case, then she was no longer off limits, he reasoned. He didn’t want to spend another
Salomeh stared off into the distance for a moment as though she was contemplating her answer.
“Yes, Marta invited me. She lives in the building, obviously. And as for my damsel-in-distress routine, you made me promise to act like I was having fun, so let’s not discuss that.” Salomeh paused and then gave him a look of pure curiosity. “What’s up with this crazy accent? I can’t place it. It’s not French or Italian, but it sounds Indo-European. I think. It’s not one of those random Hellenic languages, is it?”
Julian hadn’t known his inner language nerd was capable of arousal, but hearing Salomeh discuss linguistic groupings was basically intellectual foreplay. In addition to getting him wound up, he realized this discussion could segue into discussing Bardhyn if he played it right. “My accent isn’t ‘crazy,’” he said disdainfully. “It’s Albanian, and it’s much sexier than either a French or Italian accent. American accents don’t even rate a mention, of course.”
He held his head up haughtily, extending his pinky as he took a sip of his drink, watching her from the corner of his eye to catch her reaction.
She smiled and shrugged unapologetically at him. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she said. “All the boys with the cute accents are already taken, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”
She stared into her drink, concentrating as if you could tell fortunes from soda bubbles. She was embarrassed by her admission. Julian almost allowed himself to be distracted by the implications of her words, but reined his ego in.
Get it together, man, he chided himself. It wasn’t as if he’d never charmed an attractive woman.
“Since the accent is unfamiliar, I take it you’ve never met an Albanian before?” he pressed.
“Surprisingly, I haven’t. You’re my first,” she said with a sly grin that made Julian’s cock stiffen, but then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, wait!”
“Yes?” Julian asked expectantly.
“The super in my last building was Albanian. I used to bring him books for his kids because he wanted them to learn about everything,” she said with a pleased smile that faded. “He sometimes told me stories about how everything fell apart in his country. Some of the stuff he told me was very hard to listen to. Families being killed, lives destroyed by war, and all for nothing.”
For a millisecond, anger pulsed in Julian’s veins. As hypocritical as it was, the thought that Salomeh was playing him, that she knew about his parents and sister and his lonely days fighting a war with the hope he would be granted the release of death, infuriated him.
Did Bardhyn put her up to this? he wondered.
But then something in her eyes softened, and her hand was warm against his arm again, understanding in her touch as she ran her palm over the old wounds.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bought that up. It was tactless of me.”
“It’s okay, although you should know there’s a lot more to the country than death and pain,” he said, though it was the first time he had acknowledged that in years. “We also have very beautiful beaches.”
“Are you going to try to sell me a timeshare?” she asked with a smirk.
She doesn’t know anything, he thought. She can’t help you catch Bardhyn. She probably didn’t even know he was the one responsible for what had happened to her. Julian would fix this for her, but there was nothing that could be done until at least the next day. The transcripts would have to be cleared for release as evidence in order for her to be exonerated, and that couldn’t happen until they took down Bardhyn.
Julian put his drink down on a nearby banquet table and stepped closer to her. If she didn’t have any information that would be useful to the case, then she was no longer off limits, he reasoned. He didn’t want to spend another
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