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“You say that as if you’re always getting ready to run.”
I turn. He is so much closer than he was a second ago. The world fades away as he shifts into stark focus.
His lips are curved and gorgeous. I didn’t notice it before, but black ink marks swirl out of the collar of his shirt, whirling around his thick neck. “You have tattoos.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“So did you. Earlier. It makes me think you’re hiding something.”
“I am,” he admits freely. “But I’m not lying to you. Are you lying to me, Francia?”
The false name lands with an awkward clunk between us. “No.”
He moves even closer. “Did you see your boyfriend down there in the crowd? Maybe a husband? You have a guilty look about you.”
“You recognize that look, hm? Maybe that’s why you know so much about everyone else’s affairs—because you’re the one causing them.”
“I don’t know a thing about you or yours.” His gaze drips down my face like honey, slow and sweet. “Who are you?”
I bite my lip and turn back to the doorway. I take a slow step forward. Then another. My stepfather is gone, so I can let myself relax against the doorframe like I don’t have anything to hide. “I’m no one’s wife or girlfriend, I can promise you that. And unlike everyone else here, I have no desire to be. I’m okay on my own.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I snap my attention to him. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t believe you. You saw someone in the crowd. But if you don’t want to tell me, so be it. I don’t care who it was.”
I should deny it, but he can see straight through me. “Why not?”
“Because there’s not a single person at this party who can stop me from doing what I want.”
The thrill that races down my spine is reason enough on its own to get the hell out of here. I’m supposed to be having fun, not falling into devastating lust with a handsome stranger.
But I can’t leave. Because for the first time in…well, maybe forever, I feelsafe. I feel like, if my stepfather walked through this door, this man would put himself between him and me without hesitation.
“I don’t need you to protect me.”
He drums his finger on the side of his glass. “I saw you try to fend off Stefanos downstairs. You did your best, but it wasn’t quite enough, was it?”
“I don’t like to whip my kung-fu out on civilians,” I joke lamely. “I prefer to handle things nonviolently.”
He chuckles. “As you should. Me, though? I have a different approach.” He fingers the edge of his lapel, which would normally be fine and dandy, but sinceI’mthe one wearing the jacket, those fingertips are venturing just a little too close to my bare chest. “I think some things should be handled right to the point of breaking. Again, and again, and again. And then—only when they’ve proven they deserve it—thenyou give them the little bit of violence they’ve been asking for.”
“Oh…well, that’s…certainly something.” I swallow past a massive knot in my throat. “But I can handle myself just fine.”
Considering the heat brewing inside of me, I’ll definitely behandling myself, alright. Maybe two or three times in a row.
I formulated my opinion on men like this one a long time ago. Rich, powerful men in expensive suits who drink aged cognac. They are used to getting what they want in life and nothing less. When it’s denied to them, they aren’t afraid to take it by force.
Standing here in nothing but a jacket, a gentle buzz brewing in my veins, I should be terrified. He could take advantage of me. He could force me out of this jacket if he chose.
But he won’t.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do.
“You know, I should probably go.”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I know it’s the right choice. Get out of here before I do something—or someone—I’ll regret. Plus, I haven’t seen Jorden. I’m sure she has downed several more flutes of champagne since I left her. She’s going to be drunk and she’ll need my help getting her sloppy self home.
