Page 11
CHARLOTTE
“ J ust go to the bar or something. I’ve got plans tonight.”
Misha brushes me off and opens the bathroom door.
“Plans? You had me scoping out the potential meet areas on my own today. You are meant to be my handler, not the other way around.”
I stomp towards him and he spins to face me, his nostrils flaring.
“What’re you gonna do about it, little princess?” he mocks, running his hand through his hair.
When he chuckles and shakes his head, I glare at him.
“Nothing. Just as I thought. Now run along. Go have a cocktail. Might loosen you up. This whole uptight, stick-up-your-ass thing you’ve got going on is not hot.”
My fingers twitch by my side.
“And this whole manwhore thing you’ve got going on is doing you real good, isn’t it?” I laugh.
He’s a fucking useless mess.
“Shit at your job. No woman stays more than one night. Well, not even that if you pay them.” I count on my fingers for dramatic effect.
“Shit haircut,” I say, staring at him.
“Bitch,” he hisses, and his hand flies towards me. I grab his forearm, digging my nails into his flesh as he cripples over.
Plunging my knee with full force into his gut, he cries out in pain.
I don’t let go but tighten the grip. If I’m not careful, I’ll dislocate his shoulder. Then he will be completely useless to me.
So I hold it where it is, enough not to do full damage.
“What was it you called me? ‘Little princess’? How’s that looking now? Huh?” I whisper in his ear.
“Get off.”
“No,” I snap back.
God, this feels good.
“Say sorry.” I bite back a grin.
He growls, so I tug back just a tiny bit more, and he screams out like a little bitch.
He knows not to fight back in this position.
“Fine. I’m sorry.”
I release him and he almost stumbles into the wall, and I can’t hide my laughter.
“Asshole. I’ll see you in the morning,” I chirp.
I flip him off and stroll out of his door, slamming it behind me.
Adrenaline fuels me as I jog to the stairs.
Now I do need a drink so I don’t go back in there and shatter his skull.
By the time I get to the bottom, I’ve calmed down slightly.
I’m less murdery.
Tugging my black dress down, I fluff up my long, big curls with my fingers and head to the restaurant area.
I hear the deep laughs and chattering from the main doors to my left, and as I take another step forward, I collide into something.
Holding out my hands to break the impact, I look up, completely flustered—into those beautiful blue eyes.
The air gets trapped in my throat, my mouth falls open, and it’s like my brain turns to mush in his presence.
“S-sorry,” I stutter.
His eyes track up my body, not in a creepy way, but in an appreciative way.
Especially when a smirk tugs on his lips.
“We need to stop meeting so aggressively, sweetheart.”
God. His Irish accent melts me. My heart rate spikes as I take another step back.
I need space from him to think.
“I didn’t punch you in the dick this time. Improvements.”
I grin as I speak.
My cheeks start to flush, he clearly notices as he shoves his hands in the pocket of his black shorts.
I can’t help but stare at those muscular arms, smothered in dark ink. And those veins that protrude from his hands and forearms. He clearly works out.
“Heading in for a drink?” He points behind him.
I nod, but words don’t follow.
“Would you care to join me?” he asks.
And I freeze.
Rubbing my hand along my forearm, I open my mouth, everything inside me is screaming to say “yes”.
To loosen up as Misha said.
Then Vlad pops into my head. It not only risks me, it risks Jimmy.
I’m Vlad’s property. If my life were different, I’d jump at the chance.
It feels so right. Sparks crackle around us. He is the first guy I’ve crushed on since I was a teenager.
“I won’t bite. Just a drink,” he says with a soft smile.
But his eyes dart down to where I’m rubbing my arm, and he frowns.
“I can’t. Thank you for the offer, though.”
I swear he’s disappointed as he chews the inside of his mouth.
Well, so am I.
He seems cool. I bet he has good banter. And he makes my stomach flutter.
He simply nods and steps to the side and I rush past him in a hurry.
I clutch my purse tighter against me and perch up on a stool.
I look back and steal another glance. The other guy looks similar to Jimmy.
They have the same slimmer face with a chiseled jaw. Except he has tattoos all the way up to his jawline and up around to his ears.
As he turns, I see the ink spanning on his head where his hair is shaved at the sides.
As his gray eyes meet mine, I look away.
“What can I get you, Miss?” The petite bartender asks.
“What cocktail do you recommend?” I ask, grabbing the menu and scanning the words.
“Sex on the beach?”
I find the details on the page and it sounds sickly sweet.
“Okay. I’ll take one of those. Thank you,” I tell her.
Rubbing my hands along my thighs, I feel safe with my blade under my dress.
I’ve learned to trust no one. That’s why I instinctively picked the barstool with the view of the room and my back to the wall.
No one can get to me without me noticing.
I can’t resist stealing a glance over at Jimmy and his, I assume, brothers.
I expected them to be downing beers and laughing, but instead, they’re staring at their drinks in complete silence.
A burning fire heats my core as his eyes lock with mine.
I’ve been caught ogling him. But it’s hard not to.
He’s, by far, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.
He has an aura about him, commanding his space.
Even down to the silver rings over his fingers, the mean tats, and the all black outfit.
As he winks at me, I cross my legs as pressure builds down there.
What the hell is happening to me?
I’m captivated, but I attempt to tear my gaze from his. I can’t.
And when he scowls, I arch my brow.
“What’s your room number?” A soft voice asks.
That shakes me out of my spell.
I turn to the bartender and pick up my bright pink and orange drink.
“Three-oh-two.”
Taking a sip, I’m pleasantly surprised. It’s not too sweet, with a hell of a lot of booze.
“Is this seat taken?” A husky Italian voice distracts me from my drink.
As I look at him, he grins, pointing to the stool right next to me.
“Without sounding rude, I’d quite like to be on my own. The other stools are empty,” I tell him.
I point to the other ten available out of my personal space.
“You’re too pretty to be sitting at a bar all by yourself. Let me join you. Please.” He fake pouts and I hold up my hand to cut him off.
“No. I’m perfectly fine. Thank you.”
He taps his fingers on the red leather of the chair and doesn’t move.
His dark eyes glare at me. A shift from rejection.
“Can I at least buy you a drink?” he asks, this time smiling fully and revealing his gray teeth.
Ew.
“No, I’m good, thank you.” I hold up my glass.
Get the fucking hint.
As he steps around the stool, I stand, placing my drink on the bar.
“Do not take another step forward, sir.” I keep my tone harsh.
He tilts his head, running his gaze up my legs and pausing on my breasts.
Absolute creep.
“Let me buy you a drink.” This time, his tone is less welcoming, more aggressive.
“No.”
He takes another step and I suck in a breath, scanning the room to work out how many witnesses would see me beat his ass down. I’ll have to downplay my skill slightly.
I wait as he leans in. It’s then I hear my drink start to fizz, and I see him pull his hand back from the bar down to his side.
Slowly, I slide my hand under my dress and put my fingers on the handle of my knife.
“Fine. I’ll leave,” he whispers and steps back, holding up his arms.
As he does, he crashes straight into a furious Jimmy, who grabs each shoulder and holds him in place.
My mouth drops and my heart hammers.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
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- Page 9
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- Page 11 (Reading here)
- Page 12
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