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I lift my bourbon, meeting his eyes. His fingers brush my wrist as he plucks my glass from my hand—not tight, but firm enough to tell me he’s used to people obeying him. He studies my drink, then me, and sets it aside without asking. Like he already knows I’ll let him.
“Want to get out of here?” His voice’s dark and velvety. Before I can answer, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “You know what I see, Alessa? A woman pretending to be something she’s not.”
My spine stiffens. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
I should say no.
The words hang in the air, but the truth is, going with Dom gives me the perfect out—ditch this auction circus and follow a lead that actually intrigues me.
“I know enough.” His finger traces the rim of my glass. “I know you’re not some shy little girl who wandered in here by mistake. And those eyes of yours are cataloging every detail, storing it for later.”
A chill races through me. “That’s quite the imagination.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
His voice drops low, as his hand slides slowly across the bar top, just grazing my wrist.
“Tell me you’re not curious about what happens behind closed doors with a guy like me.”
Dad’s voice in my head warning me to stay away from the life he tried to shield me from.
What the hell am I thinking?
I’m here for the damn story, not to get tangled up with the exact type I’m supposed to be exposing.
Fuck... I don’t know...
Maybehe’sthe real story here. I glance back to where Silver Mask is now heading in my direction.
My heart pounds as I lift my chin, unable to tell anymore where the journalist ends and the woman begins.
Breathe, Alessa...
“Lead the way.”
The walk to his suite is an exercise in restraint. Each step in my heels clicks through the marble halls, an unspoken countdown to a moment I can’t take back.
The current between us hums, thick with unsaid promises, pulling me in. His hand rests lightly at the small of my back, thumb occasionally brushing the bare skin exposed by my dress. An innocent touch made sinful by its deliberate placement. I hesitate for just a fraction of a second, my pace slowing.
“Second thoughts?” he asks as we reach the elevator, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
“Just calculating risks,” I reply, keeping my eyes forward.
His chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Smart girl. Though I think we both know you made your decision the moment you sat at that bar.”
The elevator doors slide closed, sealing us in. The air thickens between us.
“Tell me something true about yourself, Alessa.” I raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “One thing that isn’t a lie.”
“You mean something that won’t get me in trouble?”
He smirks. “Try me.”
I exhale, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“That,” he murmurs, “I believe.” His finger traces the curve of my shoulder, goosebumps following in its wake. “Your turn to ask.”
“Why me?” The question slips out before I can stop it.