Page 6 of Venomous Kiss

TWO

REON

My gaze locks on her as she walks in. Something about the woman makes me want to watch her. She has bright copper-colored hair that accents her chocolate-brown eyes. There is something intriguing and utterly captivating about her, but it’s not just her looks that interest me.

She’s a regular, coming in about as often as I—once a week. I’ve never made a move to speak to her, but I watch her as she watches everyone else. She doesn’t even look around as she heads straight to the bar, sits down, and taps her long fingernails against the wood before she orders.

Same routine once a week.

She’s early today, though.

“Reon, the shipment was late. It’s going to put us back,” Earl says from the other side of the table. I’ve known Earl for quite some time. Long before he started to get salt-and-pepper-colored hair that makes people think he is older than his thirty-five years, he now runs my aviation company. We import and export goods. While some of the goods keep the business legitimate, others are not quite legal. Actually, they are very illegal.

“You’ll figure it out,” I reply. Earl huffs and reaches for his drink. He knows I hate talking business unless absolutely necessary. That’s why I hired him and Hannah—so I could spend more time doing the things I love.

“You always say that,” he grumbles.

I turn to face him. He’s dressed in a blue suit, his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and the white shirt he is wearing reads Patrick’s Aviation.

I grew up with my father as a pilot, so it was only natural that he taught me everything he knew. When he died, he left me a large chunk of money—an incredibly large chunk—so I acquired planes—a lot of them. And now I’m one of the biggest import companies in the world.

My business is worth billions.

I’m worth even more.

And Earl, I pay handsomely to run everything smoothly, so I don’t have to.

“You can leave now, Earl.” I wave him off, wanting to focus on her.

“I have more news,” he starts, but I pin him with a glare that speaks volumes, daring him to continue despite my clear displeasure.

His jaw clenches, grinding with tension. “I guess I can handle it. Don’t forget you have Nashville.”

“That’s what I pay you for. Now, leave.”

Earl gets up, not finishing his drink. He grabs his jacket, tosses it over his arm, and walks out without looking back.

I sit back and turn my attention to the woman at the bar. She now has a bottle of Vodka in front of her, and she’s staring back at me.

I meet her gaze.

How long was she watching me?

Most of the time, when I see her, she doesn’t make eye contact with me.

But I know she sees everything now. She has that look about her that says she already has you worked out; it both excites me and unnerves me all at once.

Standing, I make my way over to her, pull the stool out next to her, and sit. I tap the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and he walks over.

“Espresso martini,” I tell him.

She laughs next to me, and it’s like music to my ears—dark, mysterious music that somehow soothes. When the bartender walks off, I turn to look at her. Her chocolate-brown eyes stare back at me. But behind the deep, velvety color of her gaze, it’s like there’s no one there. No emotion. No warmth. No soul.

“Do you find my drink order amusing?” I ask her.

To be honest, I ordered that to get a reaction out of her, and it seems it worked. Those chocolate eyes lock onto mine, and I notice she’s wearing some weird mascara.

Is it blue? I think it is.