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I curl my fingers into a fist and inch it away.
“The Mulliner. Part of Breitling’s collaboration with Bentley, I believe. It has an automatic flying tourbillon which beats more than twenty-eight thousand times an hour.”
His lips twitch. They are plump and pink, with a deep cupid’s bow that, annoyingly, makes my mouth water. “Impressive. Maybe you could get a job at Breitling, then you’ll be able to pay for your own drinks.”
I lean back against the bar, partly because I suddenly got a waft of his scent—a cocktail of expensive cologne and mint, and it’s making me far drunker than I am—but also partly because I’m hoping his gaze will drop to my cleavage.
It doesn’t.
“I don’t want a job. I want your watch.”
He cocks a brow. “Well since you asked so nicely.” He turns back to his paperwork.
I slam my hand against his file, sending his pen mark flying across the page. Dark annoyance threads through his features, but only for half a second, before that bored expression is back.
“You’re incredibly annoying,” he says quietly.
“So I’ve been told.”
“And at this point, I’d give you the shirt off my back to get you to leave.”
I glance down at his shirt. Like every other part of him, it looks expensive. Crisp, white, molded to his body like second skin. He’s forgone a tie in favor of a collar pin with two gold dice punctuating each collar point. A thin chain connects them. Begrudgingly, I like it.
“Your shirt, but not your watch.”
“Not my watch.”
“What if I win it?”
I look up at his face just in time to witness it shift. A spark of something, intrigue perhaps, dances within the walls of his irises. Now, the full weight of his attention presses heavily against my body.
His pen slips from his hand and lands on the files with a dull thud. “Win it? You want to make a bet?”
Out of the corner of my eye, Dan stills. I should take it as a warning sign, I know. But before I can process it, my mark smiles.
Holy shit. It’s like looking at the sun. Not because his perfect teeth are blinding, but because it feels dangerous. Like if I stare too long, the handful of morals I have left will go up in a puff of smoke. Faint lines frame his eyes, making me realize despite his annoyance with me, he probably smiles quite often.
And he does have dimples.
“What bet?” He pins me with a sudden velvet charm that steals my breath from my lungs. I bet it secures multi-million-dollar deals and makes women drop their panties without a second thought. Hell, if I didn’t have a hundred problems, I could see myself being one of them.
“A game of my choosing.”
“Hmm.” He runs a palm over his jaw, and a diamond dice cufflink winks at me. “What are the odds of winning?”
“Ten-to-one.”
“You just made that up.”
I hitch a shoulder and bat my lashes. “Maybe.”
His gaze crackles and glimmers with amusement, lingering on mine a beat too long. I’m almost thankful when a buzzing sound slices through the air. His attention shifts to his cell next to me. I glance down and see the name Angelo flash on the screen.
“Excuse me for a moment,” he says softly. He brings his cell to his ear, slides his other hand in his pocket, and saunters into the shadows.
With distance between us, I realize how fast my heartbeat is. It’s fueled by adrenaline and something a little more…fuzzy around the edges. I turn to grab my glass of water and come face-to-face with Dan.
That customer-service smile is nowhere to be seen. He says something, but I don’t catch it, because his mouth barely moves.
