She wags her finger at me to stop talking…so I do. And nerves that weren’t there before when I stood up for her make their presence known.
Now that the sea of nosey onlookers has dissipated and we’re as alone as two can be while standing in the middle of a crowded gentleman’s club, I’m finally able to take her in. Not only are her eyes the most striking shade of blue, but every feature, from her defined cheekbones framed by black hair styled straight and skimming her shoulders to her full and kissable lips, to her warm olive skin that glows beneath the dim lights, every feature from head to toe is nothing short of a work of art. A masterpiece.
“What the hell are you sorry for? The last time I checked, someone with a set of balls as big as yours doesn’t need to apologize for a damn thing.” She winks, lowering her hand to the lapel of my suit jacket, tugging it.
My throat tightens.
“Aww, don’t go shy on me now,” she coos with pouted lips since I’ve apparently lost the ability to speak. “Who knew allthatwas hiding under allthis.”
A rush of heat skids across my cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I am now,” she says with a smile I return by default.
“Good.”
“Sooo…” She steps back, shifting her weight from her heels to her tiptoes, flirtatiously at that. “Since my boss just told me that I should take the rest of the night off, I feel that consummating our marriage with a drink… or several, only feels right.”
“When did he say that?”
She mutters to herself before looking in the direction she walked over from, glaring at the man I’m assuming is the owner talking on the phone. “A few seconds ago. Anyway, it’s for the best. I rather drink with myhusband.”
Fuck. What did I get myself into?
I glance at the bar near where we’re standing, it’s packed with no empty stools in sight.
“Not here,” she snaps, directing my attention back to her.
“You got it, but under one condition.”
Her lashes flutter. “Yes?”
“You allow me to pay for you.”
“Are you seriously, after all we’ve been through in the last ten minutes, attempting to tell me what to do?”
I cling onto the flirtatiousness in her tone, letting it give me the dose of courage I need to push through the nerves wreaking havoc on me. “No, I told you what I’dliketo do. I’m your husband, remember?” I wink. “I’m only treating you how you deserve to be treated.”
“Right.” There it is again, that sadness I saw hidden in her eyes before. However, this time, it dissipates as quickly as it rose to the surface as she changes topic. “Nice suit. Armani?”
I lift my hands up, shrugging playfully. “Guilty.”
“Thought so. Custom?”
“Guilty again.”
“I know a custom Armani suit when I see one. The gray looks good on you. It brings out your—” Her gaze falls to my groin. “Features,” shesettles for. “You’re not in the mafia, are you?”
I can’t help but laugh at her bluntness. “No, sadly my career is not that interesting.”
“Damn. Honest too.” She snaps her fingers, and I can’t tell if she’s relieved or disappointed. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing if you were. Trust me, after surviving one of the worst relationships ever, I’ve learned there are far worse things than getting caught up in a mafioso’s web.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“Like dating an attorney.”
My airway tightens as she once again abruptly shifts the conversation. “Enough about that. I need a drink sliding down my throat, stat.”
