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“Because you need to let loose. You’re fucking tense, and it’s making me twitchy.”
I lean in closer so my lips rub his plump ones. He sucks in a breath, already anticipating what’s coming next. But I’m not going to give in this time. “I need to concentrate on finding the fucking traitor. I don’t have time for your games.” I shove him back in his seat, and he pouts.
“You’re no fun. I was looking forward to walking in there with your cum dripping from my ass.” He shoves the door open, and I realize we’ve stopped in front of the venue. He jogs to my side, yanks my door open, and gives me an exaggerated bow. “Your Highness.”
“Stop,” I hiss, stepping from the limo and jerking my jacket together to button it.
He chuckles under his breath, and I want to punch him in the face. “Think about how much better you would feel if you’d just give in.”
“Fuck off.”
“I can’t. I’m bodyguarding, remember?”
Some days I truly regret giving him that fake title. I don’t need his protection, but I need to keep up pretenses when I’mbusinessmanKane. “Stay alert in here.”
He nods. “Yes, Boss.”
We step inside the spacious ballroom, and all eyes land on us. I have to hide a grin when they move out of our way as we walk through. These people are well aware of who I am, and with that comes fear. But they’re too greedy to turn down money, no matter how bloody it is. As a server passes, I snag a glass of champagne and take a sip. “Take your post.” Blaze wanders off with the rest of the security detail, and I make my way around the ballroom. I’m either greeted with disdain or begrudging respect. I still have legitimate businesses to run, so I have to pretend like I want to be here.
I’m talking to one of the senior partners at the top law firm in New York when a guy I’ve never seen before catches my eye. He’s not quite as tall as my six-foot-three, but close. He has light brown curly hair, and his tux fits him to perfection. He turns toward me like he can feel my eyes on him, and his lips tilt in a half smile. I’m intrigued since he’s holding eye contact with me. Something that never happens. “Excuse me,” I say to the asshole I’m talking to, determined to talk to the mystery guy. Maybe Blaze is right, and I need to let off a little steam.
“Kane Lyubava.” That voice makes me stop dead in my tracks. I turn to face my father’s fourth ex-wife, my guard already up.
“Bianca.”
She steps closer and runs a red fingernail down my chest. “How have you been? It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has. You’ll have to excuse me.” I try to step around her, and she moves right back in front of me. She never could get a damn clue. “What do you want, Bianca?”
“You know what I want,” she purrs, thrusting the big, fake breasts that my dad bought her toward me.
“You do absolutely nothing for me.” Even if I weren’t gay, it would still be a hard pass. “We’ve had this discussion before.”
“I think I could change your mind, Kane.” Her hand slides over my pec, and I’ve had enough.
I lean closer so no one can overhear what I have to say. “If you don’t remove your fucking hand and move, I’ll cut it off.” She was touchy even when she was married to my father, and it took him actually catching her in the act to believe me. Her face blanches, and she steps to the side.
When I look up, the guy I was after isn’t standing there anymore. I turn in a circle, and when I don’t find him, I walk toward the bar, pissed as hell that I missed him. I trade out my champagne for a fresh glass and feel someone step up beside me. I turn and come face to face with crystal blue eyes attached to the mystery man.Exactly my type.“I’m Jaxon.”
“Kane.” I gesture for him to sit on the stool and take a seat beside him. “I’ve never seen you before, Jaxon.”
“I just moved here about a month ago.” I watch his body language for any deception, and I relax a little when I don’t see any. It’s in my nature to be suspicious, and with everything else going on, I can’t take any chances.
“Lucky me,” I smile. He nervously licks his lips, and I track the movement greedily. Something about him makes me want to break all my newly-made rules about not getting involved unless it’s serious.
We launch into a conversation, and I find myself soaking in everything that he’s saying. He tells me he’s a trust fund baby and came to New York to settle his dad’s affairs. He’s not from here, which means he has no clue who I am, or he wouldn’t be sitting here telling me his life story. His voice is smooth, with a slight accent that I can’t place, but I’m addicted to it all the same. I find myself leaning closer, trying to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t move back, but I can see him nervously swallow.
“You should let me show you around sometime,” I say.
He clears his throat. “I’d like that.”
“What about tonight?”
“Tonight?” He laughs.
“The city is beautiful at night.”
“Oh. Well…” Did I read this all wrong? “Let’s do it. I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
