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The trouble is, I don’t know what to make of him, or how to deal with him. He’s told me he isn’t about to let things get ugly, and I believe him, but he’s also making no move to leave. I don’t know how to make him go. Especially, as I get the impression he’s used to getting his own way, and worse, he has some kind of ace card up his sleeve.
I’ve dealt with all kinds of men throughout my career. The billionaire who is used to bending people, particularly women, to his will. The gorgeous ones who think tipping me a wink will turn me into a giggling idiot. And the idiots who think pinching my ass as I pass by them is an irresistible compliment.
What I haven’t dealt with is a guy like Dark and Stormy, who is confident to the point of arrogance, and yet doesn’t make me want to barf on his handmade shoes. Who doesn’t seem in the least bit perturbed to realize I am not about to become putty in his hands because he flashed me a sexy smile. And who is having such an effect on me I find myself flirting with him instead of dealing with the situation at hand.
He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. I can usually read people pretty quickly, and knowing who they are behind their masks is the fastest way to knowing how far I can go with them. I have no idea who Dark and Stormy is or what he hopes to achieve here. One thing for sure he has an agenda.
I wait for his answer to my answer and he surprises me again now. Instead of a cocky comeback, he just nods, then he turns and walks away from me. Dammit. He really is good, because now, yet again, I am the one who has to go chasing after him.
From the first moment he looked up and saw me, he has managed to turn a situation that should have been a piece of cake for me to handle to one where he is holding all of the power. I am not used to not being in control, and I don’t like the way he has so easily thrown me off my game.
By the time I catch up with him, he’s sitting on a barstool and the bartender is fixing him a whisky on the rocks. I debate telling the bartender not to serve him, but something stops me. Although I did—well do, kind of—want him to leave, I have to admit that I am now intrigued by him. He’s dangerously attractive and I can’t help but feel drawn to him.
What can I say? There’s a part of me that wants him to stay. I condone my crazy behavior by telling myself he’s not gambling anymore so it’s not like he can cheat the casino out of any more money. At least while he’s spending at the bar, we’re getting some of it back. It’s flimsy reasoning at best, but I can’t help myself.
Unfortunately, the more I tell myself I’m playing a dangerous game, the more I seem to want to keep playing. The problem with playing with someone like Dark and Stormy is I don’t think it will be a game I will win.
“Have a drink with me,” Dark and Stormy says. It’s not a request, it’s an order.
Immediately, I feel myself bristling beneath his gaze. I hate being told what to do. I bite back my anger, reminding myself to keep my composure. If he sees he’s rattled me, then all bets are off.
“I’m working. It’s against the casino’s rules to drink on duty,” I tell him.
He ignores me and turns to Jerry, the bartender who has placed his drink in front of him.
“Thank you.” He smiles. “And a gin and tonic.”
I frown. How does he know that’s my drink? I shake my head. It’s a common enough drink. It means nothing.
“With a slice of orange rather than lemon,” he adds.
That makes my jaw drop open. That’s no coincidence. No one would guess that. I don’t know anyone else who has orange rather than lemon in their gin and tonic. Who the hell is he? And how and why does he know so much about me?
He purposely avoids looking at me, keeping his gaze fixed firmly ahead of himself. Despite that, I feel as though he’s watching me, as if he’s waiting for my reaction. He’s playing with me and I don’t like it one bit, but I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s touched a raw nerve.
Expressionlessly, Jerry puts my drink down in front of me, and Dark and Stormy pays for the drinks, leaving another hefty tip. Jerry’s eyes widen. I don’t know if the excessive tipping is meant to impress me, but if it is, he’s wasting his time. Money is nothing when you have it, and watching a rich guy throwing it around means nothing to me.
