“This isn’t Rome.”
“You’re right. It’s New York City. Way more cutthroat.” She whipped up two more of Hearts of Thorns, one for each of them, holding her glass up in cheers.
Clinking his glass to hers, Gabriel held her gaze for an eternity, wishing he had a guardian angel on his shoulder, a clear voice of reason in the chaos.
Because right now, only the devil whispered in his ear.
Bloody hell, he needed this witch behind his bar like he needed a stake through the fucking chest. But something compelled him to keep her close. Something that went far deeper than his need to punish her, deeper than his quest to find Duchanes and his need for leverage and his desperation to unravel the curse. Punishment could be meted out swiftly. Leverage could be bought, as could dark witches who unraveled curses—he’d learned that the hard way in his early days as a vampire, in his early desperation to break another sort of curse.
So why hadn’t he ended this charade yet?
You don’t need her, you damned idiot,said the devil in his ear.Youwanther. So fucking claim her…
He waited for the angel’s reply. It never came.
“Obsidian opens next weekend.” Gabriel sipped his drink, then slid a credit card across the bar, his gaze wandering down the V of that tight T-shirt once more. “Order yourself some suitable things to wear.”
Chapter Ten
Gabriel wanted everything to be perfect.
And as he walked through the main level and took in the sight of his new club, he realized everythingwasperfect…
Except for the bloody witch.
An hour before Obsidian was set to open, she sauntered through the front doors as if she quite literally owned the place, hair swept into an elegant twist, a glamorous red smile painted to perfection. All heads turned to her at once—his security staff, the other bartenders, the cocktail servers, the VIP attendants.
And of course, Gabriel himself. He couldn’t help it—the pull of her commanding presence was an electromagnetic force that tugged on his entire body.
He gaped at her. His heart thudded. His mouth went as dry as the Nevada desert he’d left behind.
Fuck, little moonflower. What are you doing to me?
Not only had she ignored his demands to call for an escort before leaving the apartment, but when it came to wardrobe choices, apparently he and his witch hadwildlydifferent ideas about the definition of “suitable.”
Spiked silver heels gave her five inches of new height and all the confidence to match. Her black leather pants looked as if they’d been painted on, and her top was little more than a few studded leather straps strategically positioned to cover all but the most sensitive areas. The elegant slope of her neck and the bare curves of her shoulders shone with some sort of silver powder, her skin luminescent in the dim light.
He was about to ask her who the fuck gave her permission to wrap two seatbelts around her chest and call it a shirt when her low whistle of appreciation cut him off.
“Wow, Prince. You clean up well.” That gorgeous red smile stretched wide as she took in his appearance—bespoke black suit, a dress shirt and silk tie the color of pale butter, silver cufflinks.
Fifteen minutes earlier, Gabriel had thought it the height of elegance. But now, next to the witch’s way-too-sexy leather ensemble, he felt old and stodgy.
And thanks to the sudden bulge of his cock, the fitted suit pants were quickly becoming a fucking nuisance.
He turned away from her and took several deep, slow breaths, trying very hardnotto imagine tying her to his bed with those studded straps…
“Something wrong, Prince?” she asked.
“You aren’t supposed to leave your apartment without an escort,” he barked out over his shoulder.
That was it. All the words he could force from his useless mouth.
Undeterred—or perhaps just accustomed to his foul moods by now—the witch walked around to the other side, where she could look into his eyes once again.
Her own gaze sparkled with mischief. “And yet I made itallthe way here on my own, an entire half-block away, in heels mind you, without getting into any trouble at all. I probably deserve a raise.”
Annoyance simmered in his gut, but as much as he tried to stoke it into a proper rage, he just couldn’t. She was too fucking beautiful, and her bubbly, upbeat demeanor was warming him in all the wrong ways.
