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Dahlia turned back toward the elevator but quickly rammed into a man’s chest and jumped back, holding up her hands.
He lifted his chin, gesturing behind her. “To the table.”
Dahlia shook her head. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
The man’s eyes darkened. He had to be at least six and a half feet and pure muscle. “I won’t put my hands on you, but you’re not getting past me.”
Her breath lodged in her throat, and she inched backward, putting her farther onto the balcony. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but she refused to take her eyes off the menacing figure advancing on her. Wait a minute. I know you. Kind of. She’d never met the man before, but he’d been one of the guards from the night of her confrontation with Rod. Rogue had come into the office with Nash. And three men had stood outside. This man had been one of them. His gaze lifted over her head, and she spun around, abruptly stopping in front of the familiar man smiling down at her.
What the hell is going on?
“We weren’t expecting you, Dahlia,” Nash said.
Dahlia released a nervous laugh.
“It was a spur-of-the-moment plan.”
Nash slowly nodded. “Complimentary passes?”
“Yes.”
“Trey or Rogue give them to you?”
Oh shit. What were the odds he’d actually check if she lied? Considering the size of this mini-enterprise, they had to be making a killing. Why have passes if they weren’t meant to be used? She was rationalizing her mistake. Those passes were given out to only a select few. And Trey had never offered her one.
But Nash doesn’t know that.
She parted her lips, prepared to sell her lie, but immediately froze when Nash moved closer, leaving only a small gap between them.
“Your eyes shift to the right, then to the left, and back to the right. Then you take a shallow breath and blink.”
What was he talking about?
Nash smirked. “Right before you’re about to lie.”
Caught! She had only one option. Apologize and beg for mercy!
“I’m sorry. We took the passes. And while it wasn’t our intent to steal, I can see now it’s theft, and I am so sorry. I’d be happy to pay for the admission price. And Sloane’s, too.” She reached into her bag, but before she could grasp her wallet, she felt his hand wrapping over her wrist. It wasn’t aggressive or tight but halted her from any further movement.
“I can explain myself,” Dahlia said.
Nash’s lips twitched, and he jerked his head to the far corner of the room. He released her, and for reasons unknown, she followed him. There was only one man seated at the table, eyeing her suspiciously. Of course he was. She and Sloane had basically stolen a place in his club by taking the passes.
She stopped at the edge of the table, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Dahlia.”
The man stared down at her hand, and she heard Nash’s faint chuckle.
He had at least fifteen years on her. Salt and pepper hair that somehow only accented his appearance. Dahlia had never taken much interest in older men, but there was something about him. It was almost familiar in his chiseled bone structure and strong brow line. He was handsome but with an edge. He raised his brows, making it evident he knew she was staring, and she immediately looked away. It was awkward, to say the least. It was obvious he had no intention or interest in shaking her hand. She dropped her arm to her side and shifted on her heels.
Then, in a move she did not expect, he lifted his arm, extending his hand. Dahlia rubbed her hand on her jeans, wiping off the sweat, and grasped his hand. It was firm and solid. It could have been a show for power, but she didn’t think so.
“Dahlia Carter.”
He slowly nodded. “I know.” He motioned to the chair beside him. “Sit.”
Dahlia immediately followed his directions.
“What do you want to drink?”
