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Eric strutted across the street in the humid night air, acting as if he belonged at such a ritzy joint. The book had always chosen careers for him that, despite his two rounds of college, kept him from being wealthy. He was hoping in his next go around of life, the book would be kinder, but he knew that bastard had it out for him. It most likely took pleasure in keeping him in the lower middle class, just like it probably took pleasure in giving him a taste of the most incredible woman he’d ever met only to keep her from him.
He walked in through the golden phone booth entrance and was greeted by a tall, cool brunette dressed in a body-hugging burgundy dress. She had a tablet in hand, ready to check the guest list. The list Eric wasn’t on.
“Hello,” Eric purred. He caught the name on her name tag. “Shaylee, is it?”
Shaylee flashed him a brilliant smile. “Name.”
Eric ran a finger down her silky bare arm, though it gave him no pleasure; in fact, it made him feel ill in a way he’d never experienced. Almost as if his body were telling him his touch was meant for someone else. He knew who he wanted that someone to be. However, he had no choice but to touch the hostess if he wanted access to the club. Eric caught the gaze of the pretty brunette, which was exactly what he needed. He held her eyes with his own while focusing intently on what he needed her to see. Energy built up inside of him—energy that contained the picture she needed to see and the words she needed to speak. Once it was fully formed, he pushed the energy into her.
Shaylee blinked and twitched as if she’d been hit with static electricity, but she did exactly what Eric had silently instructed her. She looked down at her tablet and scrolled down her list. “I see you here, Mr. Knight.” She gave him a toothy smile. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thank you.” Eric moved past her, half hating himself for manipulating the woman, yet knowing tonight it would be the most harmless thing he would do. He flexed his hand as if it would remove the sensation of Shaylee’s skin from his fingers. It was odd—he’d never had that reaction before. Normally the feel of a pretty woman’s skin would give him some pleasure, but everything seemed to be different ever since the book had pushed him headlong into Sorrel’s world.
The club had a masculine bent to it, with several leather couches grouped in different seating arrangements throughout the place. The smell of cigars and brandy lingered in the air. Eric weaved his way through the crowd toward the bar when he spotted Ivy Davies sitting in a private corner near one of the hearths deep in conversation with a portly, bald man dressed in an Armani suit. Eric stopped and ordered a dry martini from the bar—Ivy’s favorite drink, according to one of his informants—before making his way over to the pair.
With drink in hand, Eric sauntered over to Ivy, who looked bored talking to the gentleman who only had eyes for her. He probably didn’t know she was sleeping with her boss. At least Eric could put the poor man out of his misery.
“Ivy,” Eric interrupted. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”
The pair looked up at Eric from their seats on the leather couch. The portly man sized him up, and defeat flashed across his face, evidence that he knew it was best to retreat. He graciously stood and said his good nights. Ivy, on the other hand, tried to place Eric, but it was obvious from the confusion in her eyes that she couldn’t. That didn’t stop her from inviting him to join her. Eric was, after all, irresistible, unless your name was Sorrel, though even she had her moments.
Eric cozied up to the woman who had slits for eyes, like the venomous snake she was.
Ivy pressed her hand against the couch and leaned in. “For the life of me, I don’t remember your name.”
Eric smiled, not at her but at her gray roots. Someone had missed a hair appointment. “Eric. We met last year at the Mayor’s Gala. I’m with the Daily Post.”
“Oh, yes,” she lied.
Eric swirled the martini before taking a sip and then offering it to her. “If I remember correctly, dry martinis are your favorite.”
A look of unadulterated pleasure washed over her face. “Mmm. I think I’m remembering you now.” She took the glass from him and sipped from it.
Eric hated to, but he rested his hand on her knee. “I was hoping you would.”
Ivy downed the rest of the drink before placing the glass on the table in front of them.
“Would you like another?” Eric offered.
