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Less than two weeks, that’s how long I was at Urban before he came for me. I cursed under my breath when he entered the kitchen—there was no way he didn’t know I was alone in there. Busying myself washing the champagne glasses, I kept my eyes down to the sink and simply hoped he was looking for someone else and came in here by accident.
But I knew better. No one else was here, and I doubted someone like Emrick would goanywhereby accident or for a lovely stroll.
It was the first time I had seen him come down from the balcony, and I trembled as he stood across the steel counter, staring at me. He stood unnaturally still, his chest and arms a solid barrier. I didn’t look up, and the sound of glass against glass in the sink wasn’t enough to drown out my heart pounding in my ears.
His presence was suffocating me, and it was almost a physical strain not to look at him now, not to challenge him with a stare, daring him to look away first. I cursed my curiosity. I simplyhadto keep looking at him, didn’t I? I just couldn’t keep my eyes from straying to the balcony, and every now and then, I’d catch him looking right back at me, and I never looked away fast enough. Sometimes I even let my gaze linger, and we’d pause like that for a moment, simply looking at each other, a silent communication over the club’s noise.
Perhaps like recognizes like. His darkness reflecting mine.
Maybe he was simply checking me out.
Dammit.
Emrick said nothing and started drumming his fingers on the steel bench. I allowed myself the smallest sideways glance at his hand, taking a moment to study the hints of his tattoos peeking out the sleeve of his hoodie. All his men wore suits or long jackets, but Emrick was almost always in a hoodie. I supposed when you had his sort of power, you could wear whatever you wanted.
That was hardly important right now, and I almost forgot to breathe when he stalked around the U-bend of the counter and came to a stop behind me.
Immediatelybehind me. So close I could feel my ass brushing against the fabric of his pants.
“Hello.”
His voice was so deep it sounded like it should belong to a sex god.
Maybe it did.
Shaking my head and holding back a tremble in my shoulders, I dared not turn around but found I couldn’t continue washing glasses either. Frozen on the spot, my hands hovered over the sink. Maddie’s warning about being too close to him was screaming in my mind.
Run.
Dangerous.
But I was trapped against the counter.
Where could I run to?
And the intrusive thought, reminding me of who I really was—would I run, even if I had the chance?
Emrick was electric against me. I wanted to lean back against him, imagining those fingers that had drummed impatiently against the counter running over my body.
No.
All the things I had heard about Emrick had made him something dark and mysterious—a forbidden temptation, a curiosity, the cryptic figure on the balcony who I could project my messed-up fantasies onto. His dark image was amplified as the warnings I should have listened to screamed and rattled around inside my head.
He had a reputation.
Murderer.
Pure and simple.
Although me, of all people, should know it’s never that black and white.
Emrick removed people who got in his way on his rise to the top. Rumors of ex-employees being dropped off buildings, people losing fingers for stealing, even of someone being literally branded a thief as though Emrick got the inspiration for his punishments and messages from medieval times.
Then there was what Maddie had told me about young men and women invited to his office for a drink, and whatever happened traumatized them so much, they never came back.
Or maybe they were simply never seen again.
“Hello, Mr. … sir,” I stuttered when I realized I didn’t know his last name.
