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A sudden chill grabs hold of me as my legs fail me and I drop back to my chair. After I make sure no one is looking, I retrieve the flask I keep in my handbag and take a sip.
The burning taste of the tequila slowly snaps me to my senses. I inhale a calming breath as I’m about to stand up, congratulate the couple, then leave.
There’s no point in staying longer if I’m going to make her uncomfortable.
A shadow falls over me like doom from an apocalyptic movie. I smell him before I see him.
His cologne has strong notes of cedarwood, pepper, and musk. As loud as he is, but not gutting.
It’s subtle enough to announce his presence without him having to speak a word.
“You’re done here. Get off my property.”
I grind my teeth, but I fake a smile when I stare up at him.
Okay, I should’ve really taken another sip of my drink. I’m never drunk enough to deal with this bastard.
Men don’t unnerve me. In fact, I’ve learned to play their game, to climb in their ranks and snatch their positions until some have argued I have a manly personality myself.
However, Kingsley is on the small list of those who drain me whenever I think of or, worse, deal with them.
Sharing space with him is similar to being thrust underwater for minutes at a time.
We’ve always clashed. Fucking always. I’m the angel on Nate’s shoulder—the one who’s as diplomatic as he is when it comes to dealing with the firm’s delicate matters and futuristic vision. A fact that pisses this bastard off because he’s the offensive type.
The hit first, file charges later type.
The punch them when they’re down type.
In short, violence is his middle name and diplomacy has left the building of his egotistical, hellbound brain.
“The wedding isn’t over,” I say in the sweet tone that gets on his last nerve. “I think that means I’m staying.”
His eyes gleam and that highlights the tones of dark blue and stormy gray in them. They share the intensity of a sea hurricane, one that even pirates wouldn’t be able to survive. And when he glares down at me with his stupid god complex, it’s like he’s directing that destructive energy toward me with the sole purpose of destroying me. “Tell you what, witch. How about you leave and save us all the unpleasant sight of you?”
“I decline.”
“Either leave or I’ll report you for trespassing.”
I stand, no longer weak in the knees and definitely charged up for a challenge. “I was invited. I have the invitation to prove it.”
“As the owner of the property, I can revoke my hospitality at any time.”
“If that word and you met in an alley, they’d shoot themselves and splash your precious Italian shoes with blood.”
His face remains the same—timeless, emotionless, and utterly merciless. With the sun at his back, he appears as ominous as an old gothic chapel. “That’s two minutes since I rescinded my invitation, which should’ve been used to walk off my property.”
“I’m not leaving until I congratulate my daughter on her wedding.”
“You meanmydaughter.”
“I’m the one who gave birth to her.”
“I’m the one who raised her during the twenty years you were out of the picture.”
“For the thousandth time, I thought she was dead!”
“For the thousandth time, I have zero fucks to give.”
