Page 50 of Restless Hawke

I do a slow, three-sixty spin in the grand lobby of the Hawke Hotel, trying to take in everything around me. But that’s nearly impossible.

Even after spending most of my life traveling and countless nights in ritzy, over-the-top luxury hotels, this place has still managed to render me speechless.

And it isn’t just the glittering opulence.

It’s the unique touches.

Things I can only imagine to be authentic New Orleans flair scattered throughout the design—the golden fleur-de-lis carved at the corner of each door and inlaid in the shiny, Italian marble floors. Bright, festive carnival masks decorating the walls. Magnolias flowing out of massive crystal vases placed on tables and pedestals throughout the massive space…

It somehow feels rich, yet homey. Welcoming, yet clearly offering an experience that will go far beyond what anyone can imagine. And I haven’t even made it into the casino yet…

My gaze drifts to the right, toward the entrance to it, where slot machines and tables extend as far as I can see.

Before I can take a single step, a warm, calloused hand curls around my elbow, and a familiar scent wraps around me, invading my startled inhalation.

Crisp ocean waves.

Coen…

“What are you doing here, Allegra?” His deep voice rumbles through me like an earthquake, threatening to knock me off balance in my heels. When I don’t answer immediately, his grip tightens and his lips brush my ear. “Well?”

I clear my throat and turn toward him slightly until I can see the warning in his gaze. “I came to play.”

It’s as honest an answer as I can give the man who will probablynevertrust me.

One of his dark brows rises slowly, and he shifts closer, until his entire body is pressed into the side of mine, his breath fanning my cheek, raising goosebumps along my skin. “Came to play what?” Those callouses drag lightly over my skin as he shifts his grip. “Me? Because we both know that isn’t going to happen…”

I shake my head immediately.

Not after what he did to me the other night…

He made itveryclear that he willnotbe played—despite my best efforts, which came back to bite me.

Hard.

I tried to distract him at that table in Macau, but apparently, all that came from my little game was the awakening of a sleeping giant intent on revenge—which he servedexcessivelycold before he walked away.

He left me breathless, trembling, wet, and wanting.

Not a position I often find myself in, nor one I ever want to be in again.

Coen holds my gaze, patrons of the hotel and casino moving around us, eyeing us speculatively. Apparently, the tension between the couple standing so close and glaring at each other in the middle of the lobby is as evident as it is for me as part of the stare down.

What’s he going to do?

Walk me out of Hawke Hotel and drop me on the street…

It should be his first inclination and honestly what I expected him to do once he discovered I was here, but I thought I’d have more time to scope out the hotel and casino, to get the lay of the land, and perhaps establish some sort of defensive position before I was captured by the enemy.

That didn’t go well.

And the longer this goes on, the two of us unmoving, pressed together with his tight grip on me, the harder it becomes to keep staring into those icy-blue eyes.

It’s my turn to raise a brow at him, to force him to act, and the secretive grin he sends my way in response elicits a little shiver of fear and anticipation.

A security guard in a black suit approaches, with his gaze zeroed in on Coen’s hand on my arm. “Is there a problem, sir?”

Coen finally drags his focus away from me to smile at him. “I’ll take care of Ms. Knight personally.”