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“Just tolerate me? I’m quite positive you would more than tolerate me, given the right amount of encouragement.”

I imagine the multitude of ways I would like this man to encourage me. My nipples go hard at the thought. My pussy flutters to a staccato on its own. Cool air hitting the sweat on the back of my neck jolts me to the present. I need to remove myself from this situation. Once again, I turn to scan the room for onlookers. When I glance at Ethan, he pushes off the wall with a smile.

“I’m sure my client is waiting for me. I should get back to him.”

He looks at me as though assessing my excuse and nods.

“Perhaps you better. Who is your client anyway? I’ve seen you visit him a few times. Though, I haven’t been able to learn much about him. Reclusive fellow, isn’t he?”

“You mean, with all your stalking skills, he slipped through your net?” I push my bottom lip out in a mocking pout. “So sad…”

“Careful, darling. Before, he wasn’t interesting. Now, anyone you spend time with is interesting.”

“Are you worried there’s something more happening during our visits?”

“Of course not.” He pauses, and a pensive expression crosses his face. He looks into the main room and then back to me. “Is there?”

“He’s like a grandfather. But what would you do if I said there was?”

All humor vanishes as he brings his face inches from mine. The lethality in his glare sends a thrill through me.

“I’d tear his limbs from his torso for touching what’s mine.” His gravelly voice rumbles through clenched teeth.

Energy thrums through my body at the thought of being his.

Great, Patience. Yes, get excited over the stalking serial killer who thinks you’re his.

Rolling my eyes internally, I break from my thoughts to see his sapphire blues predatorily trained on me. The coolness means he’s on the edge and can’t reel himself back to safety. I run my finger along his chiseled jaw. His beard tickles my fingers, drawing a smile to my face.

“He’s just a client, a very nice one too. Leave his limbs where they are, please.” I run my fingers over his ear, then through his thick hair. The storm of anger spooling in the depths of his eyes slows. With a blink, the softness returns to his eyes. His vicious expression’s replaced by confusion.

“I’m sorry.” He moves back, as if he’s afraid to touch me.

“It’s fine.” I don’t really care if he has an edge. If anything, it’s nice knowing I’m not the only one who wears a mask for the world to see. “I really should get back, though.”

He nods, but I don’t miss the disappointment in his gaze. I move past him to step out of the alcove, pursing my lips. Maybe what he needs is a distraction.

“I’m sorry for what I did to your dresser,” I murmur.

His brows furrow as he peers down at me visibly uncomfortable. I, of course, didn’t do a thing to his dresser. He begins turning a shade of peachy red when a cold chill runs down my spine drawing my attention deeper into the room. Scanning from wall to wall, I find nothing out of the ordinary. Ethan’s spine straightens as he takes a step beside me.

“It’s all right. I understand.” His smooth voice instantly calms my nerves and draws me back to the fun I was having.

The cold touch along my spine softens as I peer up at his soft smile. What were we discussing? Shit. His dresser. Yes, the dresser that I didn’t touch.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say, reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze. “Well…bye.”

I move into the main room, buzzing with people. I try to spot a tiny man in a white suit. It should stand out, like a beacon amongst the sea of tweed and black. Honing in on a flash of white to my left, I find Lennox standing at the back of the room. A cool look of indifference is cast my way as I step forward. His gaze spears over my shoulder, shattering his mask of indifference which turns to a look of contempt. Maintaining my calm smile, I continue walking toward him.

“Sorry about that. I was talking with someone,” I say, trying to stress the lightheartedness in my voice.

“Yes…I saw…who is that?” He lifts his hand and points toward the alcove, where Ethan’s texting on his phone.

“Remember when I told you someone outbid me for the manuscript?”

Lennox hums, nodding in confirmation.

“Well, that’s him.” Shrugging, I try my best to hide any feelings on the matter.