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„You could say that,” I say. „But there’s more to it. Not all of the girls you see here are guests, some of them work here. When The Velvet Rooms first opened, they hired girls to entertain the patrons, and they were divided into angels and devils. The devils were dressed in black and available for a lot more than just conversation.”
She startles when I pause and lean in even closer to her pretty face. I can feel the heat of her erratic breath on my lips, when I place the tip of my finger beneath her chin, slowly tilting her face up to mine.
„And then there’s the innocent angels, dressed in white, and not to be touched,” I go on, relishing the way her chest heaves and her lashes start to flutter again. „Just like you.”
„N-not to be touched?” she utters, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
„Well, except by me,” I say. „You’re mine for tonight.”
She doesn’t shy away when I come closer, and she doesn’t fight me when my lips finally land on hers. It’s just a peck, a quick brush of my lips against hers—and before it can turn into more than that, I feel something cold and wet against my chest.
Confused, I retreat, and the shocked look on her face tells me right away that something is amiss.
„Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she blurts out, her eyes glued to my chest area, before she pulls them away and looks at the empty flute in her hand. A large, wet spot is spoiling the white shirt beneath my tuxedo, causing the soaked fabric to cling to my chest. She managed to pour her drink at the worst place possible, right in the middle, where my white is exposed.
A smile plays at the corner of my mouth.
She just gave me the first reason to punish her.
Chapter 3
Claire
Oh my God. Of course I would do this. Of course I would ruin the night before it even began. Of course I would spill my drink on his shirt, when he kisses me.
But that kiss…I’ve never felt anything close to the heat that was rushing through my core when this man’s lips met mine. He’s so out of this world handsome, almost god-like with his tall stature and controlling demeanor. He exudes power and control in an elegant manner that makes me weak in the knees.
And I just spilled my drink on him.
He doesn’t look mad, though. He takes a step back, his movements slow and deliberate, while his gaze is locked down to his chest where a clearly visible wet spot is spreading across his otherwise immaculate shirt. A shirt that probably costs more than anything I ever owned.
„I-I-I’m so sorry.” That dumb stutter again. I thought I had it under control, but stressful situations still awaken this old monster that’s been residing inside of me ever since I learned to speak.
„Well, look at that,” he says, his eyes still latched to the wet spot on his chest.
The sound of his deep and ominous voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I can feel my heart racing when he slowly lifts his head to look at me.
„Not even five minutes in, and you’re already in big trouble,” he says—adding a wink to his words.
„I’m really s—”
„Stop saying that,” he cuts me off. „Come. You’ll have to take care of this. Before I take care of you.”
Before I can ask what he means by that, he takes the empty flute out of my hand, turns around, and walks over to the bar, leaving both mine and his flute on the counter, before he leans over to talk to the woman working behind the bar. They exchange a few words and it looks like she hands him something, before he comes back to me.
„Come with me.”
My breath catches when he places his hand on my upper arm, his touch as gentle as his kiss, as he cautiously guides me away from the wall and through the room. His hand wanders down to the small of my back and feels surprisingly warm and comforting as we make our way through the crowd.
„Where are we going?” I ask.
I try to catch his eyes with mine, but he doesn’t reciprocate and keeps his focus on the room, as if he was scanning our surroundings for any potential danger.
„Do you trust me?” he asks eventually, still not looking at me.
„I…uhm.”
„If you don’t trust me, you should leave now, little flower.”
