Jason’s head shakes back and forth, his chest heaving with his staccato breath. “Listen, you don’t understand. He made me. He would have killed me, man. I can’t—I didn’t have a choice.”
My head tilts, filing away his slip of the tongue for later. I’m not surprised he isn’t the one behind the whispers, Ru and I both have many enemies, and someone of Jason’s stature is more likely to be a bitch boy than a mastermind. My stomach tightens, wondering if he’ll be forthcoming with the name, or if I’ll have to drag it from his throat by force.
I nod, sliding from the booth and running my hand down the front of my suit as I move to his side of the table. I bend down next to his ear. “There’s always a choice.”
And then I walk away, my eyes already locked on the girl at the front of the bar.
9
Wendy
“Oh, fuck, he’s coming over,” Maria whispers, practically vibrating on the barstool next to me. She zoned in on him the first moment we walked in the bar, nudging me in the ribs until they ached, letting me know her man was in the house.
He’s just like she described—surrounded by suits, sitting in the back booth under lighting so dim you can barely make out his shadow.
But I can feel him.
Being raised around a man similar in stature has fine-tuned my ability to know what it feels like when someone bleeds power. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I understand the appeal.
I smile and wink at Maria, twisting in my seat to see, but her nails dig into my arm, clamping down like a vise. “Don’t look,” she whispers. “What are you thinking? This is my moment. We can’t act too eager.”
Angie snorts into her drink. “As if he hasn’t seen you staring over there every two seconds. How do you even know he’s coming for you? He’s probably just going to the bar.”
Maria’s eyebrow quirks. “When have you ever seen him do that?”
Angie shrugs, and I take a sip from my wine, the dry red liquid making me cringe as it hits my lips.
“I bet he is,” I say. “You and him had a connection or whatever, right? He’s probably just been busy until now.”
“You think?” she asks.
I nod, desperate to get on her good side even though she’s been nothing but a bitch since the second we met. “Seizing the moment!” I giggle as I fist pump the air.
Her ruby red lips split into a smile, her gaze widening the slightest bit as they slide past me.
“Fancy seeing you here, darling.”
My breath whooshes out of me, dread snaking its way through my insides, because I would know that voice anywhere. And from the way Maria is staring, I have a sneaking suspicion that her man is also my stranger.
I ignore him, hoping that maybe if I don’t react, he’ll just go away. But lately, it feels as though nothing I wish for comes true, so, of course, he doesn’t.
Maria draws her shoulders back, pushing out her chest, and whether I like it or not, my stomach twists, because even though I don’t want his attention, I’m not sure I want her to have it either.
I choke down another sip of wine.
Heat prickles along my back, making my hair stand on end. I peer from the corner of my eye and see Maria’s face change, her lips drooping ever so slightly. Glancing the other way, I notice Angie’s gaze flickering between the man at my back and me.
“Ignoring me in my own bar?” His breath coasts across my ear, and I close my eyes, fighting back a shiver. “That’s not very nice of you.”
I look one more time toward Maria, trying to convey an apology through my expression, before exhaling a heavy breath and giving my attention to the man who wants it. “I didn’t know it was your bar.”
Spinning around, I expect him to back up, but he doesn’t, and my knees brush against his thighs as he crowds my space. My chest squeezes as my eyes meet his icy blue gaze.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” His head tilts. “Let’s change that.”
My mind replays all of our encounters. “Was it you that let us in the first time?”
The right side of his mouth lifts.
“And the secret admirer sending drinks?”
He watches me, his hands slipping effortlessly into his pockets, so similar to the first time we met. “Would you like me to say yes?”
“I’d like you to tell the truth.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Wendy.” Maria’s voice cuts across the air, snapping me out of the moment. “Are you going to introduce us to your... friend?”
“I wouldn’t call him my friend.” I grimace. “Maria, Angie, this is James. James, this is Maria,” I wave my hand toward her, ignoring the slight churning of my stomach. “And Angie.”
“Hello, ladies,” he greets, his eyes never leaving mine. “Pleasure.”
“Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” Maria pipes in.
I resist the urge to cringe at her tacky line but wait for him to shift his focus. To realize there’s a woman here who’s ripe and ready for the picking. I’ve always assumed men like easy targets, and while I won’t lie to myself and say I haven’t enjoyed his attention, I am most definitely not a sure thing.
Still, his eyes stay locked on mine.
And I don’t drop his stare either, feeling somehow like if I do, then I’ll have lost something I didn’t even know to keep.
The air grows thick, and my tongue swipes out to lick my dry lips. His eyes darken as they drop to my mouth.
Angie clears her throat. “So,” she says. “You own this place?”
His gaze lingers before he finally, finally, breaks away and turns to Angie. My chest expands as I take my first full breath in what feels like a century and I glance over at Maria, but she’s avoiding my stare, her lips pursed and back rigid.
Great.
“Something like that,” he responds. “I hope you’re finding everything satisfactory?”
Angie’s cheeks grow rosy, and she grins. “Drinks could use some work.”
“Oh?” He steps in closer, the heat of his body racing up my side and blanketing me in its warmth, his arm resting on the back of my chair. A simple nod from him, and the bartender rushes over, the white towel on his shoulder contrasting against his dark brown skin.
“Sir?”
“It would seem as if the ladies aren’t satisfied with their drinks, Curly.”
I watch as Curly’s broad shoulders stiffen, and for some reason a prickling sense of urgency comes over me. Like it’s important he knows the drinks are fine, that Angie was just making a joke, most likely to ease the tension that’s still radiating off of an eerily silent Maria.
“The drinks are incredible,” I reassure. “They’re perfect, James. Angie was just teasing.”
His gaze moves from the bartender to me. “You’re sure?”
I nod, and he turns back to Curly. “These ladies are the most important people here, understand? Their money’s no good, and you give them anything they ask for.”
Curly nods. “You got it, boss.”
“In that case, I’ll take another.” Angie giggles. “You guys want?”
James is already locked back on me, his stare so intense it splits me in half and burrows in my chest.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
He smiles. “I don’t have to do anything.” His hand moves up and brushes a strand of hair from my cheek. The gesture is soft, gentle, and butterflies erupt in my stomach. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of, darling.”
Heat flares deep in my abdomen, and I resist the urge to rub my thighs together, not wanting to show how much he affects me. How this virtual stranger can say something like that, and instead of being repulsed, or disgusted, I’m turned on.
His palm slips into mine, my stomach somersaulting at his touch, and he raises it to his mouth, lips grazing the back of my hand. “Go on a date with me.”
Goose bumps sprout along my arm. Vaguely, I hear a gasp to my left, but I can’t focus on that, because everything about this man sucks me in like a vortex. An alternate dimension where everything is muted apart from him.
Excitement swirls in the pit of my stomach. “Okay.”
He grins, and my breath stutters at how disarming he is when he smiles. Before he can say anything else, a young man—the same one who let us in the bar the other week—rushes up behind him, whispering in his ear. And just like that, James’s entire demeanor shifts, the sparkle dropping from his face. He nods before turning back. “Unfortunately, I have to handle some business.” He brings our tangled palms up, pressing them into his chest. “You won’t leave without saying goodbye?”
I shake my head no, unable to form the words on my tongue, and he brings his other hand forward, his thumb swiping across my cheek. “Good.” He glances toward Angie and Maria, tipping his head. “Ladies.”
And then he walks away, leaving me to gaze after him, my heart in my throat—weighted stares burning holes through me from both sides.
10
Wendy