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Goose bumps rose on my skin. But whereas I struggled to maintain a semblance of calm, he regarded me the way a scholar would examine an old but thoroughly forgettable text. A hint of interest, tempered by a sea of indifference.
“In that case,” he said, the words like velvet in his cultured voice, “I’m happy to help.”
An unwelcome surge of anticipation leaked into my veins, but it was dampened by unease. Dante and Vivian always got lost in their own world, which meant I was facing at least two hours of Kai’s uninterrupted company.
“Excellent.” Vivian beamed, looking happy over something as simple as a group dinner.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. My desire to experience Monarch warred with trepidation over a night with Kai. On one hand, I refused to let him ruin a bucket list item for me. On the other…
“Guys, I have to go.” Sloane came up beside me, so quiet I hadn’t heard her approach. Sometime in the past five minutes, she’d tossed a camel Max Mara coat over her blouse and pants and swapped her slippers for a pair of sleek leather boots. “My client landed early.”
She nodded a curt greeting at the men and handed me and Vivian our bags, effectively dismissing us.
We were too used to her work emergencies to be offended by her abrupt announcement. Sloane wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type, and her face should be stamped next to the dictionary entry forworkaholic, but if things went to shit, I knew I could count on her. She was fiercely protective of her friends.
“Who is it anyway?” I asked, discreetly dropping the dildo back into my backpack while she locked the door. “Anyone we know?”
Most of her clients were business and society types, but she took on the occasional celebrity like British soccer star Asher Donovan and the fashion model Ayana (one name only, à la Iman).
“I doubt it,” Sloane said as we walked to the elevator. “Unless you follow thelazy playboyssection of the society pages closely.” Her voice seeped with cold disdain.
Okay then. Whoever the client was, he was clearly a sore subject.
Vivian and I fell into step with her while the guys brought up the rear. Normally, I’d pester her for more information, but I was too distracted by the soft footfalls behind me.
The clean, woodsy scent of Kai’s cologne drifted over me in a warm rush of air. I swallowed, tingles of awareness scattering over my back. It took every ounce of willpower not to turn around.
No one spoke again until we reached the elevator. The oak-paneled car was built for four at most, and in our jostling to squeeze into the tight space, my hand grazed Kai’s.
A golden streak of heat shot through me, electrifying every nerve ending like live wires in the rain. I pulled away, but the phantom thrills remained.
Beside me, Kai stared straight ahead, his face carved from stone. I almost believed he hadn’t felt the touch until his hand, the one I’d inadvertently brushed, flexed.
It was a small movement, so quick I would’ve missed it had I blinked, but it grabbed hold of my lungs and twisted.
The air compressed from my chest. I quickly tore my eyes away and faced forward like a teen who’d been caught watching something inappropriate. The hammering of my heart reached deafening decibels, drowning out Dante, Vivian, and Sloane’s chatter.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kai’s jaw tense.
The two of us stood there, unmoving and unspeaking, until the doors pinged open and our friends spilled out into the lobby.
Kai and I hesitated in unison before he nodded at the exit in a universalafter yousign.
I held my breath as I brushed past him, but somehow, his scent still infiltrated my senses. It muddled my thoughts so much I almost walked into a potted fern on our way out, earning myself strange looks from Vivian and Sloane.
I suppressed a groan, the next two hours stretching in front of me like an endless marathon.
This is going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 8
Kai
Ihadn’t planned on tagging along with Dante after our meeting, but when he mentioned the Monarch reservation, I’d been curious. My job included checking out the most buzz-worthy places in the city, and I’d been putting Monarch off for too long.
Certainly, my decision to abandon a relaxing night in for the somewhat tedious fine dining scene had nothing to do with Dante’s casual comment about picking Vivian up from girls’ night with her friends.
Sloane had departed for the airport, leaving me and Isabella in the back seat of Dante’s car while the newlyweds cozied up in front. Of all the nights, Dante had to choose tonight to drive instead of relying on his chauffeur.
