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“How did you get in?”
“I have my ways. And just in case you’re considering taking me out, know that I never do anything without an insurance policy.” He glances at Skye, and her eyes goes wide. “Devon says hello, by the way.”
Fuck. His insurance policy is Devon. “He’s just a secretary.”
“One whose life you value.”
“Where is he?”
“He’ll be back at the office, safe and sound, tomorrow morning.”
My jaw clenches and I tear myself from his grasp. His smile broadens. The fucker has the advantage. When we break contact, he gives Skye his full attention.
His expression softens only slightly, but there’s something in his eyes, like those of a wolf about to strike its prey, as he stands and greets her. “And you are?”
Her back goes ramrod straight, but she accepts his greeting. “Skye.”
“Very nice to meet you, Skye.” He holds on to her too long and practically leers at her, eating her up with his gaze.
“Enough!” I hiss.
Gideon gives me a knowing look before he laughs and releases her, as if I reacted exactly as he expected me to. Skye rubs her skin nervously as I glare at him.
“Why don’t you two sit and have a chat with me. I promise not to take too much of your time,” he says.
I weigh my options. If I call security now and Gideon truly has Devon, he could kill him. That would start a war I’d rather not initiate. Or I can listen to whatever bullshit he wants to throw my way, maybe learn something from it, and let him go, none the wiser that just a few floors below, my father sleeps. If Gideon knew, Father would already be dead. And if I seem too eager to get him out, he’ll suspect.
Pulling out a chair, I motion for Skye to sit. She glances at it and the man warily but complies. Then I take the seat between them.
He sits too, that fucking smile still on his face as he watches her. “Your business is with me,” I remind him. “Not my date.”
“Is it?”
“It fucking better be.” I place my hand over hers. “What do you want?”
He peers around the club. “Really nice place you have here, Arran. I must say, I’ve heard wonderful things and have been meaning to visit. I was just waiting for the invitation.”
“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”
“Wow,” Gideon says with mock dismay. Then he shows me the ruby ring on his small finger. “Is this how you treat all your customers?”
I study the Maxton House ring, wondering how he got it. Is it the one that belongs to Michael Williams?
“You’re not a customer,” I remind him. “You’re an unwelcome fly in my soup. So say what you want and get the fuck out.”
Gideon’s lips pull upward. His gaze moves from me to Skye, who’s staring at him wide-eyed and visibly disturbed by our interaction.
Our waitress returns with the most expensive bottle of wine we offer and proceeds to pour him some. When she comes to my glass, I stop her before she’s able to fill it. “When was the last time you saw me drink wine?”
The waitress seems stunned for a moment. “Whiskey. You prefer whiskey. I’ll be right back with that, sir.”
“That was my bad,” Gideon says. “I assumed you’d have good taste.”
“That’s because you’re an ass,” I tell him.
“What about you, my dear?” he asks Skye. “What do you prefer to drink?”
She looks between us, then says, “Water.”
