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He scoffs and sneers at me. “So, you’re tellin’ me you’ve got a magical pussy, then?” I fight the urge to slap him again since my first attempt was unsuccessful.
“Yet another incorrect assumption, Luke. You know what happens when you assume. I’ve never had sex with Joe and never will. It’s not part of our arrangement.”
His entire demeanor shifts, and he scratches his head. “It could still be dangerous. We don’t know who we can trust right now, and it’s not a good idea to bring anyone else into our circle.”
“I promise, Joe is not involved in a plot to kill the mayor. He’s harmless.”
He scowls and drags a hand through his beard. “If we vet him, I’ll allow it. But only after things have settled down and we understand our situation better.”
I raise one eyebrow. “You’ll allow it?”
“Take it or leave it, Zara. You either agree to vetting or you hand me your phones and I cut off all contact with your client list.”
His threat isn’t an empty one, and I can’t lose my phones, so I wave an arm at him. “Fine. Vet away.”
“Good girl.”
I bristle at the sarcastic praise. Genuine praise is my thing, but that’s not what he’s offering me. It’s condescending and filled with pompousness. I can’t even begin to convey how much it annoys me. That’s a good thing, though. I can draw on this annoyance any time I have dirty thoughts about Luke.
“Get dressed. We need to leave in half an hour.”
Without another word, he turns and stalks out of the room, slamming my door for good measure.
It just confirms my long-held belief that the vast majority of men are still petulant children on the inside.
Chapter 7
Luke
I’mannoyedbyhowmuch it pissed me off to hear Zara scheduling a date while she’s in Vegas. The way this woman is getting under my skin is dangerous. There is too much shit on my plate for me to worry about someone else’s wellbeing. Yet I find myself more than just attracted to her. Yes, I want to take her to bed, find out what makes her moan and scream. And I intend to do exactly that. But I also want to protect her. Provide for her. Make her leave that goddamn job. A sentiment I’m certain she won’t appreciate considering that we’ve barely known each other for forty-eight hours. Zara isn’t some trafficked woman with no choices. She’s a force of nature all on her own, and even though she hasn’t said as much, I know she chose her line of work. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to tear anyone to pieces who puts a hand on her.
Now I’m dressed in my charcoal and pinstripes waiting for her to emerge so I can take her to High Card. It’s a stupid place to take her. But I’ve been obsessed with the idea since I first realized I had to bring her home with me. I have no sense for what she likes in the bedroom. Is she even submissive? She’s feisty for sure, but that doesn’t mean she’s not capable of submission.
I don’t need a lot of things from a woman, but submission in the bedroom is one of them.
Her door opens, and I am stunned. In thirty minutes, she transformed from a beautiful woman into a fucking Goddess. I don’t know if Skylar helped her pick her dress tonight, but if she did, I’m kissing her right on the mouth—even if she does still hate me.
Her long dark hair that is usually board straight, giving her a no-nonsense look of authority, is curled, and framing her face so she looks like a damn angel. And the dress is going to kill me. It hugs her curves and has cut-outs down the front that shows off her flawless skin. Or nearly flawless. As my eyes dance down her body, they catch on a small puckered white scar peeking out from beneath one of the diamond shaped cutouts.
I want to run my finger over it and ask what happened. And now I want to kick my own ass for being a sap for an escort who is only here because I forced her.
She smiles and stares at me from beneath long lashes and it’s then I notice she’s changed her makeup. When she got into my limo in New York, her makeup screamed edgy New York socialite. Exactly what it needed to say to be on the arm of a Bowden at a function like that.
Tonight, the palate is softer, and she hasn’t done whatever women do to give their faces all those sharp angles. Again, the term angelic comes to mind.
“Is this OK?” she asks when I don’t say anything for several more seconds.
I blink and nod, offering her my arm. “It’s perfect. That dress is… criminal.”
She pulls on a long coat and ties the belt at the waist. Probably best, so I don’t have to shoot someone in the lobby of Hunter Novak’s casino for gawking at her too hard. We do try to stay on good terms with the casino mogul.
“We’ll eat dinner downstairs and talk before we head to the club. I need to prepare you for walking in there.”
“Skylar was vague when I was asking questions during our shopping trip, so it will be good to hear more.”
We walk arm in arm toward the private elevator of the penthouse suite, and I can’t help but admire our reflection in the mirror on the wall as we wait for it to open. To say we make a striking couple is an understatement.
“Why doesn’t Skylar like you?” she asks as we step into the elevator car.
