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The moments tick away, and I still don’t know what to do when the three men accompanying the man I stare at saunter to a corner of the lobby and take seats in soft, comfortable armchairs next to a coffee table by the windows.
Maybe the fourth man will do the same, and my plan will become a reality.
I slide a trembling hand into my bag before searching for a bill inside my wallet when I turn to stone again.
Flashing a cocky smile, he pivots away, heading this way. He’s probably looking for the restroom.
The problem is that the path to the bathroom goes through this room.
He must be familiar with the hotel.
I know there is another restroom at the end of the lobby, but he wants to check the people at the bar, it seems.
And I’m right. He does swing his gaze around the room, and there is no way… No way he won’t see me.
I pin my eyes on my cocktail and tip my face down, hoping it won’t be the case.
I don’t dare to look in the bar mirror.
Perhaps he won’t recognize me. What could give me away? My pantsuit and my dark hair?
I hold hope that’s not the case.
Of course, I’m fooling myself.
A hand lands on my shoulder. It’s a warm, familiar gesture, and it’s bold, but boldness is his middle name.
“What are you doing here alone, beautiful woman?”
His words, slightly nasal, activate circuits of physical pleasure across my skin.
It’s like he’s talking to my body. And my body recognizes him.
He sets his elbow on the counter, keeps his hand on my back, and orders himself a drink. A pretext, by all means, to be here for a moment.
His friends are in the lobby, waiting for him.
They are probably getting their drinks over there.
The barman rushes to fill a short glass with hard liquor while I wait for the man to shift his eyes to me.
I don’t think I realized that night how handsome he was. Although I’ve seen him since then––the last time was two weeks ago on that rooftop––it’s only now that it dawns on me how dangerous this man is and how lucky I was to get away, unscathed.
Roman Cardenas has that lopsided grin across his lips, expressing self-confidence mixed with arrogance, sheer brazenness, and a dash of lustful pleasure coming from his messing with my mind.
Our eyes lock, his stare telegraphing an undercurrent of renewed interest in me. His magnetism is indisputable, and he is aware of every ounce of it.
He surely knows how to use it.
Our eyes talk, and his say big things. He wouldn’t have a problem booking a hotel room, taking me upstairs, and fucking me while his friends wait in the lobby.
It looks like he’s revisited our one-time deal and reconsidered his play.
I doubt money would be on the table again.
His first bid wasn’t for me, although I was the beneficiary of it. His bid was there for Kai.
Roman wanted to outbid them. And ruthless as Kai can be sometimes, he said yes. Why the hell not?
