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Will it even make a difference?
I swiped away the thought as soon as it appeared. It didn’t matter that I’d been literally inside the opponents den and came away with nothing. All that mattered was to keep building a connection, one that preferably didn’t contain our lips touching.
Keeping myself under control was a must. I had to be professional. I had to keep my eye on the prize.
Pulling in a sharp breath, I pushed my shoulders back and made my way across the dancefloor toward his booth. I was only five feet away when I heard, “Back the fuck up,” from behind me. A hand collided with my back, right between my shoulder blades as she pushed me and sent me barrelling forward. I hadn’t been prepared for it, but my instinct kicked in and I threw my arms out in front of me, grasping onto the nearest table to keep myself upright—the table that Theo was sitting at.
In the loudness of the club, I didn’t hear anything else as I turned to see who had pushed me. Her glossed lips were moving a mile a minute, her hands waving in the air.
I winced as I stood upright. It wasn’t that it hurt, but it had taken me by surprise, and I was still healing from last week.
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes on her. The short black dress I was wearing wasn’t the best clothing to throw down in, but I would if I had to. I had to keep my cover intact because you never knew who was watching. Even though every instinct in me wanted to march her off the dancefloor and slap some cuffs on her wrists.
Calm down, Lena. Keep it cool.
“I said: back the fuck up.” She moved closer, putting her face within centimeters of mine.
“I’m sorry?” The words were out of my mouth before I could even think about it. It was meant to sound more like a bitchy “I’m sorry,” but it came out more like a genuine apology. “I’m not really sorry,” I added on, trying to backpedal.
Her nostrils flared, her anger flashing over her face. “Leave,” she growled out. “You have no business being on this side of the club.
I blinked, tilting my head to the side as I looked her up and down. Her dress was practically painted on her body, showing her lack of curves. I was the complete opposite thanks to the hips I’d inherited from my mom. “Are you the boss here?” I asked, knowing full well that she wasn’t. I probably knew more about the employees of this club than the owner did, and he was sitting mere feet away.
A quick glance at his table told me that he wasn’t watching us fully, but his body was tense, his head turned so that his ear was closer to us. He was listening. I had a feeling that he was always listening.
She huffed, almost as if she was going to walk away, but I spotted her lifting her arm out of the corner of my eye. I refused to get hit again, especially from her, so I grasped her wrist, holding just tight enough to let her know that if I wanted to, I could overpower her within seconds. “You touched me once,” I said sweetly, batting my lashes at her. “But that was only because my back was turned.” I stared directly into her eyes, pushing my point home. “Touch me again and I will lay you out in five seconds flat.” I pressed closer to her. “Got it?”
Her eyes widened as she tried to yank her wrist from my grip, but I didn’t let go. She reminded me of the bratty, privileged kids I went to high school with who thought they were hot shit because they had the latest phone and their daddy’s splashed out on expensive cars for their sweet sixteens.
I wasn’t that person though. I was the one who would sit in the corner, doing my work and trying my hardest to get a scholarship into any college that would offer me one. Extra-curriculars were a way of life. And it got me somewhere—it got me here.
“Now”—I squeezed her wrist for emphasis—“I suggest you take your own advice, and back…the…fuck…up.” I let her arm go, pushing as I did, knowing that it would knock her off balance.
Her eyes widened as she teetered on the heels that were entirely too high not to hurt like a bitch after an hour, then watched as she spun around, gaining her equilibrium, and stormed off back into the middle of the dancefloor and left me standing there all alone.
Now what did I do? I could turn away and act like I hadn’t seen Theo right there, or I could plop down in his booth like we were old friends about to catch up.
The seconds of indecision felt like minutes, but I didn’t have to wait too long to figure it out because the choice was made for me as his deep voice commented, “You handled her like a pro.”
Goose bumps spread over my skin as he spoke. This wasn’t good. I shouldn’t have had a reaction to him like that but it was hard because…well…he was Theo Black. He was the bad guy and I was the good guy, yet I couldn’t help but like the way his tough voice sounded. I could bask in it for the moment, right? There was no harm in that.
“She pushed me,” was all I could think to say as I turned and faced him. A half round table separating him and me. I scanned his arm that was stretched along the top of the booth, tattoos peeking from underneath the edge of his sleeve and down onto his hand. Everything in me wanted to know exactly what they were and what they meant.
His lips lifted on one side as he stared at me. “You know, most women in this club would have backed away and let her get away with it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mean girls don’t win out of high school,” I declared, repeating what my mom had told me every day that I had to go into the school I hated. Those words were the only thing that kept me going when I was a teenager. Now in my twenties, I’d be lying if I still didn’t tell myself it now and again.
He sat up a little straighter at my words, his head tilted. “She normally does.” His eyes narrowed, his hands coming under his chin as he analyzed me. Any other person would have probably cracked under his scrutiny, but all I found myself doing was squeezing my legs tighter together.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This couldn’t be happening, not with him, not here.
His one brow raised, my small movement not getting past him. “Sit,” he demanded. Now, I wasn’t the kind of woman who did as she was told. I was reprimanded time and time again in the Academy and as a rookie for not listening to orders when I didn’t think they were right. But there was something about Theo. Something that pulled me toward him, an invisible string urged me closer and closer until I was sitting in his booth.
I told myself it was my job as I slowly lowered into the booth. I came here to have a conversation with him. To build up a rapport so we could see how close we could get.
This was my work. It was my mission. It was what I’d been trained to do.
So there was no harm in shuffling a little closer to him, right?
