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Abort, abort!Alarm bells clanged in my head, but it was too late.
Something intense swallowed the humor in his eyes, and my already-scarce supply of oxygen dwindled to emergency levels.
Neither of us was paying attention to the movie at this point. Unfortunately, that meantallmy attention had rerouted to 1) the delicious warmth of Xavier’s body, which had inched close enough to short-circuit my brain, and 2) a salacious mental gallery of images that revolved around me, him, and a certain activity with the initials BJ.
My blood sang with sudden heat.
“Perhaps, but not tonight.” His silky murmur ghosted down my spine. “I don’t pass first base on the first date. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“You’re telling me you’ve never done more than kiss someone on the first date.” It wasn’t a question, but the voice that delivered it was so breathless, I didn’t recognize it as mine.
“I have, but that was years ago, we weren’t dating, and I wasn’t trying to woo them.”
Another type of warmth, one that had nothing to do with arousal, pooled in my stomach. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Woo me?”
“Depends.” A smile played on his lips. “Is it working?”
Yes. “No.”
“Liar.”
“A suitor shouldn’t call the object of his wooing a liar. It’s poor etiquette.”
“I’m honest when the situation calls for it, and you’d die of boredom if someone simply agreed with everything you said and did.” His pinky, still hooked around mine, curled just a bit tighter. I wished I minded.
“You think you know me so well,” I whispered, even though he was right.
“Only parts of you.” The gentle brush of his thumb against my hand unlocked a colony of butterflies in my stomach. “But we’ll get there.”
The implication that we would last until that point sent my defenses into overdrive, but the evening was so nice, and his touch felt so good, I ignored it.
It was only when the witch movie ended and the Christmas one began that I realized I’d watched a rom-com without writing a review for the first time in five years.
CHAPTER22
Xavier
If I had my way, I’d spend the next two months focused solely on Sloane.
We ended our movie date Saturday night with nothing more than a chaste kiss on the cheek, but it was the best damn date I’d ever had. She was warming up to me, and that was what mattered. I’ll be honest—I wasn’t used to chasing women. From the moment I hit puberty, I’d been inundated with female attention.
Dating was easy, and sex was even easier, so this whole trial thing with Sloane was uncharted territory.
Were it anyone else, I would simply let them go. But she wasn’t anyone else, and I was already making plans for our next date. We had two months, so I needed to make the most out of them.
Unfortunately, I had to deal with the pesky issue of my nightclub. Namely, securing the proper licenses, location, financing, and a million other things that came with starting a business.
That was how I found myself in Valhalla again the Wednesday after my date, face-to-face with the man who could make or break my plans before they even started.
Name number one on Kai’s list.
Vuk Markovic, also known as the Serb, sat across from me in his office, his eerie blue eyes devoid of emotion as I explained my idea. He’d eschewed the typical CEO uniform of a suit and tie in favor of a black sweater and pants. A brutal scar slashed his face into two halves, and a coil of burn scars wrapped around his neck.
I tried my hardest not to stare. Luckily, it got easier when I hit my flow. I hadn’t pitched a business plan since college, but I was a fast learner and a comfortable public speaker.
I needed a partner for legitimacy, and Vuk was perfect for the job. He was the current chairman of Valhalla’s management committee, which arguably made him the most powerful man in the city. He had over a decade of experience under his belt and a sterling reputation for being fair but ruthless when the occasion called for it.
Of course, he needed a compelling reason to go into business with me beyond a mutual acquaintance. Kai had gotten me in the door; it was up to me to close it.
