I blink back my surprise and drag the file into my lap. “I wasn’t aware there was a Councilman Yeatts.”
“There will be,” he says simply, like he’s an all-knowing being. He turns his attention back to his computer screen.
I scoot forward in my seat, feeling uneasy. If my father is confident enough to draft up a deal with a not-yet-elected Councilman… that can’t mean anything good.
“Dad, I don’t believe this is a wise move. After what happened with Councilman Rogers, I suggest that you–”
“I’m sorry, do you think you have a say in this matter?” he interrupts, his voice raising slightly, but not enough to draw attention from anyone outside this room. “Do you think you know what our shareholders desire more than me, the man who sat down with the entire board this morning just to draft this up?” He tips his head at the file. “The original deal with Rogers is gone, but that doesn’t mean that we should abandon the opportunities out there. Or should I call the board and have them turn their limos and planes around, then have them carry their asses back up to my office because you suggest it is unwise to strike a new deal with anunrelated Councilman? Tell me, Fallon. Is that what you think I should do?”
I swallow against the lump in my throat, feeling too much like the chastised eighteen-year-old girl who dared to believe her mother would come back to her.
“Of course not,” I say robotically, fortifying the shield around my heart. “I was out of line. I’ll bring this to my team right away.”
I head back to my office, tuning out whatever comment Clay throws my way as I pass, and get to work.
Leaving Axton Harbor for good can’t come soon enough.
There is just one thing I want first, and I need Cerberus’ help to get it.
“Pass. Pass. Oh, look at that one! Definitely smash.”
I roll my eyes at Quinn, though she isn't wrong. Even in the dim lighting of the club, and from our table high in the VIP balcony, I can see the hard features of the guy below who is heading to the bar. Smash is right, and after a day like I just had, I could use a little fun. I glance back down at my phone screen, to the bios I was sorting through.
“Girl, you need to let loose,” she snatches my phone, “and stop working. It's Friday night.”
Flipping her the bird, I can’t stop the laugh that escapes. She’s the only one who won’t lose a finger for touching my things. She interrupted my research –stalking –of Lunar Security’s three CEOs. My father wants me to have a write up ready on a new security company and these guys are supposed to be the best.Well, they sure as fuck are the best-looking.
“Fine. Okay, batter up.” I take a sip of my very dirty martini as I scan the crowd. I like my drinks like I like my attitude,salty.I catch a flash of white on the edge of the dance floor but when I scan back, my eyes are drawn into the dark stare of a skull mask. A chill snakes down my spine and the fine hairs on my arms rise as he fixes on me. What the hell? It’s April, nowhere near Halloween.
Just as I turn to tell Quinn about it, I feel a hand at the small of my back on the strip of flesh showing. Tearing my gaze away from the masked man, I slowly spin and take in a tall, thin guy with too much cologne and a thinning hairline. And by too much cologne, I mean the kind from middle school when the boys didn't shower after gym class but bathed themselves in Abercrombie’s signature scent. Not the nostalgia I was looking for.
“Well, hello gorgeous ladies.” His nasally voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the music. Noting he has a hand on both me and Quinn, irritation crawls up my spine at what is clearly an attempt at a three-way. The only reason weusethe VIP space is to avoid perverted fuckers like this. With an arched eyebrow, I give a pointed look to the offending appendage that now rests on my hip, and then back to his face. Channeling death into my glare, his arrogance falters, and he removes his hand.
“Much better.” I turn to Quinn who is in the process of popping the top of his other hand.No. Bad.I smirk as I scan the crowd below for the guy in the mask, but he’s gone. I lean into Quinn. “Let's dance.” The creep we just rejected skulks away, clearly dismissed.
When we get to the stairs that take us to the main level, she cackles. “Fuck girl, I thought you were about to melt him with that look. Such a bitch.”
I chuckle and keep walking. “Well, he shouldn't have touched me without permission.”
My clunky heels hit each step with a thud. I do enjoy a power heel. Not only do people tend to get out of my way faster, but it adds that extra swing to my curves. The curves showed up in high school, but the whole loving them part came later.
Slipping past grinding bodies, we make our way out onto the floor, losing ourselves to the music. Several songs pass as we dance with each other, and others that are brave enough to approach us. Quinn is now off with some redheaded chick who decided to shoot her shot; apparently with success.
When strong hands circle my waist from behind, a huge masculine frame molding to my own, I let the beat take me as we move together. My hands run down my body in a sensual move as I grind against him, but the goosebumps that break out on my skin don’t come from the physical contact but the deep, rich voice in my ear. “Mmm. Good girl.”
Fuck me. Haven't even seen his face and I am ready to jump on the massive erection that is grinding into me. Apparently the whole don’t-touch-me-without-permission thing does not apply to hulking men who ooze dom energy. Grasping his hand, I press harder into him before turning around and coming face-to-face with a man in a skull mask. The four small horns protruding from the top of the mask seem to drip black, but what really catches my attention are dark amber eyes.
He leans closer and my heart races. “See you soon, Fallon.” With a wink, he turns and disappears into the crowd.
How the fuck did he know my name?Mouth slightly open, I stare at where his form disappeared. It isn’t until I am jostled by moving bodies that I realize I am standing still on the dance floor. Suddenly parched, Ihead for the bar. Knowing Quinn, she will be coming up for air soon and will need a refill as well. My mind is reeling over the stranger who made me feel more in two minutes than anyone in over two years.
Trying to weave through the crowd gracefully never really works for me; I tend to have a different approach. I channel a celebrity who once said that all you have to do is put your chin down and think murder. Apparently the combo of this and my Resting Bitch Face does the job because I find myself at the bar rather quickly.
The mirrored shelves above the bar show a warped view of the party behind me as I order the next round from the bartender. She hands me my drink and I pass over my card. While I wait, I catch my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I look damn good tonight, with smokey eye makeup and leather pants slicking over my curves like a second skin. I have just enough height to blend in as average but not so much that it limits my shoe selection. I laugh internally at the thought.As if being tall would stop me from wearing heels.
I startle when I catch the reflection of a man nearly a foot taller than me wearing a mask, standing several feet behind me just staring at me in the mirror. My body surges with excitement, until I notice this mask is completely different, and this guy is dressed in a long-sleeved gray t-shirt, not a black one. While this mask is a skull, the top half is painted black with some kind of rune or symbol in the middle. The man fixes his eyes on me. As I lean closer to the bar to get a better look in the mirror, he tracks my movements. I accidently lean too far forward and knock my drink into the bar, spilling it everywhere.
“Fuck, I am so sorry.” I jerk my attention back to the mess I made and the annoyed bartender. She goes to make another drink and I slide another ten in the jar.
