AllFreeNovel
Share Us
SIX
Seraphina wanted togroan in frustration. The man wouldn’t leave her alone or let her pass. Would nothing go right tonight?
First, Ito tried flirting with her though she’d told him at the last Ice Ball that she wouldn’t touch him if he was the last man alive. Somehow that had translated into try again next year. Save her from men with overinflated egos.
Now, she had to deal with this one. She’d spotted him the moment he entered the ballroom. He was hard to miss. Tall, well over the six feet mark. Dark hair falling about his head in neat waves, neither too long nor too short. Perfectly cut as one would expect from someone with credits to indulge in that sort of thing.
Everything from his posture to the way he walked screamed dominant, confident male. The jut of his jaw, the set of his shoulders. Her lower region quivered.
She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes due to the distance between them, but she knew they’d be brown. Her file on him had been precise down to his shoe size.
Roarke Callim.
As soon as she saw him, her senses had immediately come to life, desire exploding at the perfect embodiment of what she craved. She licked her lips as she watched him, wondered how long it would take to convince him to take her to his room. Never hers. She wanted to be able to leave without fanfare or conversation.
Then as if a switch flipped, he changed before her eyes, dousing the arousal in an instant. She didn’t want a callous playboy. She wanted a man who knew his way around a woman’s body and appreciated giving her pleasure.
On the outside, it might look as if she chose her lovers randomly but much more care went into it than that. She wanted a man who knew the score, wouldn’t press for more and would give and receive pleasure equally in the bedroom. There were four names on her list of potentials to select from the attendees.
Seraphina always reviewed the guest list before accepting her own invite. Guests were chosen for their prestige and locked in place. Rarely did new people get a chance to come, making Roarke an anomaly. She didn’t like anomalies thus the thorough file she’d paid handsomely for to access his background.
Roarke’s high collared black jacket and matching black pants flattered what was surely a muscular frame and flaunted his defiance of the dress code. Admiration reluctantly flared within Seraphina. His body was probably a thing of beauty, hard angles and firm plains. Her favorite.
She tended to pursue his type at these events and would have picked him if not for one tiny detail. This was his first year attending.
It wouldn’t be the first time Jarad tried to catch her with subterfuge.Good luck, bastard. The Ice Ball was one of the few places his name couldn’t buy entry and it thrilled her to no end to thumb her nose at him by using the event to take out those in the close circle around him.
One by one, she’d eliminated his top echelon in the part of the drug trade he ruled. Humor flittered through her mind as she thought of Jarad’s desperation since he finally figured out what was happening. He reeked of fear whenever she viewed his public appearances.
Well deserved since Coco’s last moments had been fear filled pain. But Roarke. Seraphina didn’t think he was in league with Jarad.
Roarke Callim, sole descendant of the extremely private, gemstone Callim family and alleged friend of the Ice Ball organizers. His invite had been sent months ago. Not a last minute addition to kill the infamous Tempest. Still, she’d have to settle for another candidate tonight.
Annoyed, she turned to go around him. His mouth twisted to the side, a wry expression replacing the arrogance. “What did I do wrong?”
The sincerity behind the question gave her pause. She allowed herself another sweep of his broad frame. Such a waste. “Do you really want to know?”
He returned the visual sweep with one of his own, his gaze gliding over her from head to toe. When he lifted his gaze, heated passion blazed from his brown eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Hmm.” She tapped a finger to her chin, ignoring the thrill his smoldering stare caused. “A man of your word, I take it?”
He cocked his head to the side and hesitated. Unease slivered over her shoulders, but she shook off the dark moment.
“Sometimes.”
“Alright. I don’t like fake men.” Simple but the truth and a standard she tried to stand by.
He jolted in place, lips parting slightly before snapping closed. “Fake?”
She could tell she’d taken him aback. “Yes. You walked in confident and assured. Your stride as you made your way around the room greeting others spoke to your comfort in who you are as an individual.”
At her assessment, his brows shot upward then he rocked back, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. Confusion replaced the surprise on his face as he studied her a moment longer before asking, “That made me fake and you not interested?”
“Oh,” she corrected quickly. “I was interested but when you decided to make your approach, all of that changed. The confidence melded into cocky. Self-assurance became insouciance.”
His expression said he was shocked or still not getting it so she clarified further. “I was attracted to the man who walked in here, but the one who came toward me was someone else and I’m not interested in him.”
In a move, he couldn’t have expected, she stepped forward aggressively. Their fronts pressed together as she wrapped her arms around his lower back and rested the side of her face against his rock-solid chest. She let herself imagine what could have been. Heat. His body burned with an inner heat and her nipples puckered beneath the thin material of the gown.
