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I snorted. “I’m probably safer here than any other bar—at least you noticed what was going on and kicked Zakary out.” The smile slid off his face and the air around him seemed to sharpen. “Yeah. I work with that douchebag.”
A hard, distant light that I didn’t like came into his eyes. “He’s stalking you. Kicking him out wasn’t enough. I—”
“Hey,” I said and clamped down on his arm before I realized what I was doing when he looked down. “Woah. My bad. Consent goes both ways.”
He rested his cheek on his shoulder. “Does it? Well, you have mine.” My cheeks flushed and I knew my face had to look incredibly dorky with surprise, lips parted and eyes wide. “While I work for yours—you were saying?”
“I, um…” I couldn’t remember what I was saying. I thought he would speak, but he didn’t, simply turned to face me more, and waited, an endless sort of patience in his face. He wouldn’tspeak, I realized, he’d wait, and now my entire body seemed to flush. His head tilted a fraction to the side, and he studied me, his gaze slow and curious, as though he didn’t want to miss a single thing. I dropped my gaze as my stomach twisted with tornadoes of butterflies and I knotted my hands in my lap.
He's probably just a player. This is his stupid game. He’s not interested in you like that. You know this song and dance, you know better than to date a guy who piques your interest, who seems like he can keep up. Don’t forget what happened last time—
“Do you need me to find your friends?” He asked softly. “Or get you a car?”
I blew out a breath and shook my head, lifting it. I needed to get a grip—I needed to calm down, I needed—chocolate.
“Do you have anything to eat?”
CHAPTER SIX
Daniel
Ithought I had tonight all figured out.
By some stroke of luck, the protections on Iris’s phone had been dismantled, and I’d known she was coming here—toSerafino’s–tonight. I’d rushed across town to get here on time and arrived later than I’d wanted.
I’d been on the verge of losing my mind with impatience to see her face as I’d stepped onto the floor, prepared for anything—or so I’d thought.
As though I’d been expecting or had known where to look—I’d seenher. As though some primal instinct had guided my gaze to see her right away. And I’d frozen, just as I had the first time I’d seen her.
Of course. That’s Iris.
I hadn’t even bothered to check my phone, to double-check, I’d simply known. It was been too much of a coincidence, and if I’d feared or believed in God, I might have crossed myself.
But it was her. And though I’d already known I had to find out what the fuck was going on, I’d found myself ravenous with curiosity.
I’d wanted to know everything about her, everything that she thought about, worried about, dreamed about—and fantasized about. I’d wanted to know if she was Korean, as I’d guessed, and what foods she liked—if she’d laugh at my paltry knowledge of her culture’s cuisine, my love of kimchi, gochujang sauce, and tteokbokki. Or if she’d think I might be worth her time because I could handle spicy food, and I had a pretty impressive spice cabinet—
I’d cut those thoughts off, unnerved by this odd, intense lust and curiosity for this woman. But since I’d seen her outside the Speakeasy last week, I’d thought of her. Often.
A woman who pulled at everything inside of me—desire, logic, need, nerve, and sense. She was stunning, yes, even more so than I’d remembered in the middle of the night when I’d fantasized about her, biting my pillow so I wouldn’t lose my mind with want. Long, dark hair weaved around her oval face, with high cheekbones, and long eyes, accentuated with eyeliner sharp enough to stab me through the heart. I loved that she had gold glitter to play up her deep, beautiful tan skin, that she wore bold red lipstick, and had fake nails. She also wore a gold dress that left little to the imagination, her perfect, flared out hips, herlong legs, and ample chest. My entire body went taut with desire, and I almost felt light-headed, as though I’d made her up.
How could she be Iris? Was it luck? Or a fucking fatal cruel twist that life only seemed to deal the likes of me?
As I’d continued to study her, I had thatof coursegut instinct. I knew what had pulled me in, beyond her fucking incredible beauty. Her beauty was amplified by the intense intelligence in her gaze, the fierceness radiating around her, and then, as though sensing me—or knowing where to look—we’d locked eyes.
I’d felt my chest contract with a hard breath as she’d staredmedown.
Something hot unfurled in my chest as I realized she was unafraid. Surprised, sure. I was in the same boat. The look on her face, her wide eyes, and parted lips told me that she hadn’t been looking for me, in fact I might have been the last person she expected to see, and yet neither of us could look away.
And I’d been so arrested by her, so taken by that intense gaze on her beautiful face that I’d almost missed the asshole dumping enough benzodiazepine in her drink to take out a fucking elephant.
I barely remembered the next few seconds, somehow signaling to get Heavy and Pasquale over there, to get the guy, and stop her before she drank it.
Next time, I’ll have Heavy and Pasquale take him on a road trip,I thought to myself. Hell, I’d almost offered it earlier, but when I’d even broached helping her, she’d pulled back, and seemed reticent in a way that didn’t sit right with me.
Plus, this entire time we’d been talking, I didn’t know what to do with myself, even as I tried to play it cool—I had to beat down the urge to make sure she was okay, to simply look at her until she flushed again, or ask her what she thought about—anything.
And now—here I was, against my better judgement, leading Iris into the back, through a winding hallway, and into a bright kitchen. There wasn’t a kitchen crew on—we only served food for special occasions, it was more set up for people who wanted to rent the space and cater, but we always had snacks and food on hand.
