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The balcony was fairly quiet for the first hour of her shift. She hadn’t seen Trey, but she overheard one of the men saying he had a meeting with someone named Nash. At least it was confirmation he was in the building. That thought gave her butterflies in her belly. Two days, she discovered, was too long to go without seeing him.
Rogue showed up an hour later, not even sparing her a glance. Just the way I like it. Eventually, he demanded a drink, but he’d been so engrossed with making calls she was sure she’d be able to drop off the drink and go unnoticed.
She walked across the balcony, placing his drink down on the table. She was about to straighten, and he grasped her wrist in a tight, inescapable hold, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh. She resisted the urge to wince.
She met his stare, but he wasn’t looking directly at her. Rogue was scanning her face, taking a special interest in her left cheek. Shit! When she bowed her head, shielding her face with her hair, his grip tightened.
“Look at me!”
Dahlia peeked up through her lashes. His stare was always intense, but there was something sinister about the way he was looking at her. The seconds lingered without him saying a word. He just stared at her face, his gaze darkening. A chill shot up her spine, and her throat tightened.
“Get me a glass of water and some napkins.” He released her wrist, gave her arm a small shove, and straightened his back.
“Sure.”
It was an odd request, especially coming from him, but Dahlia wasn’t about to question Rogue. She rushed across the balcony, quickly poured a glass of water, and grabbed a handful of napkins.
She stopped at his table, placing the glass down next to his whiskey. Before she could drop the napkins, he slid the water across the table, landing in front of her.
“Wipe your face.”
Dahlia stilled, unsure about the request.
“Left cheek. Take your fucking makeup off.”
Oh hell.
“You do not want me to fucking do it.”
No, I don’t. She dipped the napkins in the glass and gingerly swiped her cheek.
“All of it!” His demand left no room for negotiation.
Dahlia flattened her lips and did as she was instructed. Her cheek was still tender, and she winced as she rubbed harder. Her eyes welled slightly, but she drew in a deep breath, hoping to counteract her tears. Not only was it a bit painful, it was humiliating with security watching.
Rogue’s jaw squared, and he jerked his hand, pointing at her face. “Who the fuck did that?”
Rogue was the last person she wanted to have this conversation with. She was set to lie, but Rogue didn’t give her the chance.
“Who?” he shouted, sending her back a step.
Dahlia clamped her lips, unsure what information she should give. Rogue gave her little time to come up with a story. He shot up from the table. Dahlia stood frozen until he was halfway across the balcony. He looked over his shoulder, his gaze almost black.
“Get your ass over here!”
Dahlia had no other choice but to follow him, and her dread increased when he made a left at the end of the hall. There was only one place he was leading her to.
Trey’s office.
Fuck!
****
Trey settled in the chair across from Nash in the sitting area of his office. When the meeting was set up, he knew what Nash was coming in for. Unfortunately, Trey couldn’t give him an answer yet. Rogue was still holding strong on not making a definite decision with Killcreek. They’d done the one job, which had been successful and lucrative for everyone involved. However, Rogue hadn’t agreed to a steady deal, which was what Oz and Killcreek were looking for. Trey understood it, but he’d yet to make further headway with Rogue.
“You think he’ll hold out much longer?” Nash sipped his bourbon.
The inquiry was valid. They were running on borrowed time with another shipment in two weeks. But panicking wasn’t Trey’s style. He’d placate all parties and work overtime convincing Rogue. This is where I shine.
