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“Noted.” I swallow. I blink rapidly at his diamond-hard stare. “Ouch,” I whisper when his fist tightens. He drops my arm immediately, then lifts it to inspect for any damage. I withdraw it and rub the sore area, scowling at him.
“I apologise. I didn't intend to hurt you.” His tone, although remorseful, does not match the angry glare pointed my way. Frowning, I refuse to meet his gaze and hum. I suspect he did. Idon't think this man has a kind bone in his body. A big soft hand takes my chin, and I flinch but stay connected as he lifts my face to his.
“This is an exclusive gentlemen’s club, the only women lucky enough to be in here, dance.” His eyes sweep my face and stop on my postbox red lips. Lucky my arse!
“Seems I missed the application process.” I swallow thickly. His eyes flash, but his lips twitch. My face is dropped, and he returns to the fridge to retrieve another bottle of water. He holds it up. “No thanks,” I say quietly.
“You sure? If you swallow any more, your mouth will resemble the Sahara,” he mutters.
I lick my lips.
“Yes, I’m sure.” He points to the chair, demanding that I sit, and I do, as he begins to drain another bottle of water. For a moment, his eyes are cast away, and I can really look at him. I see the dip of scars and smooth tan skin, but beyond that is just an expanse of tattoos. He is categorically the most handsome man I have ever seen, and in my business, I have come across a lot, have worked with many, and despite the danger that surrounds this man, his beauty is all-consuming. It absorbs its audience and mocks the definition of man. He is a dark delight.
“You’re staring, Miss Reid.”
I jump, caught red-handed.
“Well, I’m sitting in your office with a gun less than a foot from my face, so forgive me for being a little concerned,” I snap. I battle with asking for his name, but I know he won't tell me. He chose not to introduce himself back in the foyer, and he’s made it clear I’m not welcome here. It seems unlikely that he would willingly offer me more information, even something as simple as his name. I’m far too stubborn to ask for it or to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m intrigued.
“And that warrants you to look at me, does it?” he quips.So we’re back to playing games?
“It’s not going to shoot itself,” I grate.
He moves and picks it up; the barrel facing me, and he looks over it as I hold my breath. My heart begins to palpitate and stops before I let out a silent breath when he drops it into a drawer. His eyes lift, and he looks over me thoroughly. The black dress is skimpy by most standards, but it feels see-through when his night-dark eyes trail over me.
“Going out for the night?” he wonders.
“I had a shoot earlier.”
“Ah, so you can fire a gun, but I can’t?” His tone is grave, but I can see he is playing me.
“I’ve never held a gun in my life.”
“Do you want to?” he asks me. It’s such an out-of-place question that I laugh.
“No, do you want to model this dress?” I scoff, flicking my hair over my shoulder and relaxing back in my chair.
“I think we both know it looks far better on you than it would me.”
“Hmm.” I refuse to meet his eye. I tug at the short hem where my bright red nails draw his eyes to the movement. “How long will Oscar be?” I say, clearing my throat.
“Any moment,” he replies gruffly.
“Good.” I nod. I want to get out of here and away from this colossal man. He lowers back into his own chair, and we sit in silence. After a beat, I lift my gaze, and he is inspecting me openly. Neither of us blinks, and I hold his stare as second after second ticks past and tension begins to pulse between us. The silence is deafening, the tension palpable, but the heated gaze keeps me rooted to my chair. My eyes never flinch from his, and after what feels like minutes, his jaw ticks. It’s such a small movement that I barely see it, but his breath leaves his nostrils on a heavy exhale, and I too breathe more heavily, but I refuse to break under his stare. I won’t let him win.
Chapter Four
There is a loud knock at the door, and I jump a little. The suited man in front of me smiles darkly, and I scowl back over his desk at him.
“Some friend, leaving you out in the dark,” he murmurs, his head tilting so he can regard me further. I shift in my seat. It had crossed my mind, but I trust Oscar explicitly. I trust him more than any other person, although I did have a moment earlier where my fears eclipsed all rational thoughts, and I believed Oscar to be in on my downfall.
“Come in!” he calls. His deep voice carries, and the door opens. I don't turn because something stops me from looking away from him: hecommands respect, acknowledgement. “Ah, Oscar, we were expecting you,” he hums.
The low grunt of pain has me spinning quickly. Oscar is slumped between two men, his face a bloody, bruised mess.“Oh my God.” My eyes fly back to the owner of the club, but his face is expressionless. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit, rushing to my beaten friend, who is barely conscious, and my eyes prick with tears.
“Many a thing.” The deep voice is right at my back. I stiffen but refuse to look round at him. I scoop Oscar out of the arms of the two men who carried him in with distaste, andalthough I’m half their size, they drop him into my grasp, causing me to grunt at his weight. Keeping him upright is a difficult task, andit is complicated more by my heels. I don't ask for help while I struggle with my friend, huffing and groaning as I pull him along. They follow and watch me, and when someone curses;him, the owner, I feel Oscar’s weight tugged out of my grip. I’m shaking—my eyes filling with hot tears. I pull him back.
“No! No!” I slap at his chest, tears slipping down my cheeks. “Get off. You. Fucking. Get. Off!” I spit, hitting him between each broken word. His lips twist, and he drops Oscar’s weight fully back to me. I huff along as my poor friend groans in pain, trying to shift him as I go until I’m at the door. One of his henchmen pulls it open wide for me. I refuse to thank them and struggle through with Oscar slumped over me. I kick my heels off, knowing I will never manage the stone floor with Oscar weighing me down.
