King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(33)
“No need. I can meet you at the club.” Isabella paused. “You’re not going to leave me there without saying goodbye, right?”
A flush singed my cheeks at the indirect reference to what’d happened in the secret room. “No.”
“And this isn’t a date?”
“Of course not.”
It was simply a friendly gathering of two acquaintances at a predetermined time and location.
I said a curt goodbye and called Alison on my way back to the office. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I said. “In the meantime, please reschedule my dinner with Russell on Saturday. Tell him a personal emergency came up.”
I was supposed to take our company’s visiting COO out this weekend, but plans changed.
“Of course. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine, but I changed my mind about the piano bar opening. RSVP yes for me and a plus-one. Thank you.”
I hung up. I should have been brainstorming strategies to manage the DigiStream crisis, but as the cab sped toward midtown Manhattan, I couldn’t stop my mind from fast-forwarding to the weekend— or my pulse from hammering at the anticipation of a completely innocent, one hundred percent platonic non-date.
CHAPTER 13
Isabella
The piano bar occupied a hidden, speakeasy-style basement in the Meatpacking District, nestled in between a coffee shop and the type of trendy boutique that sold ripped jeans for eight hundred dollars a pop.
Twin bouncers the size of mountains screened invites. Past them, a narrow flight of stairs led to a lavish room that looked like something out of 1920s Chicago, with exposed brick walls, crystal chandeliers, and red velvet booths curved around tables of well-dressed, well-heeled guests in sleek designer eveningwear. An imposing five-tiered wall of liquor anchored one end of the space, while a stage with a grand piano occupied the other.
It was stunning and exclusive and a throwback to headier times.
It was also incredibly, mind-numbingly boring.
I stifled a yawn as another pianist took the stage. The night had started promisingly enough with a dazzling performance from Hina, who’d opened the show early so she could catch her flight to Japan —apparently, she’d agreed to perform at the last minute as a favor to the club’s owner—but the rest of the hours had inched by second by torturous second.
I liked piano, but I didn’t want to sit through set after set of classical music. I needed action.
I drained the rest of my drink and glanced at Kai, who watched the show with an attentive expression. His profile was all clean lines and sculpted cheekbones, classically handsome in a way that evoked smoky jazz lounges and Old Shanghai glamour.
Charcoal tailored suit molded to broad shoulders, crisp white shirt against tanned skin, the subtle, expensive scent of cologne.
Warmth and whiskey pooled in my stomach. My body tightened with annoying appreciation as I leaned over, holding my breath so I didn’t inhale more of that delicious scent than necessary. I was convinced he’d laced his cologne with drugs.
“How many more songs are left?” I whispered. I would die if there were more than two.
“Five.” Kai didn’t take his eyes off the stage.
Five? Cold dismay doused the warmth.
I shouldn’t even be here. Tessa had agreed to cover my shift tonight, but I hated asking people for last-minute favors. Plus, voluntarily agreeing to a night out with Kai Young? Sheer insanity, especially after our almost-kiss and his abrupt departure.
I hadn’t seen him for three weeks after, and I was sure he’d been avoiding me. That hadn’t stopped my heart from fluttering when I saw him downtown the other day or prevented a whisper of satisfaction from snaking through me at his obvious dislike of Leo.
Perhaps I’d imagined it, but I could’ve sworn he’d been jealous.
The thought evoked a strange thrill beneath my skin.
“Are you enjoying the performances? Besides Hina’s,” I amended. “Be honest.”
Kai finally glanced in my direction. The full width of the table separated us, but the impact of his attention still sank into my body, filling every inch with uncomfortable warmth.
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, oddly breathless. I was dying for a shot of tequila, but all thoughts of alcohol fled when his eyes dipped to my bared thigh. The slit of my dress had fallen open, and my skin burned under his dark, inscrutable scrutiny.
The noise from the rest of the bar faded like someone had turned the volume down on the radio. It took an ungodly amount of willpower not to shift my leg so even more thigh was exposed to his heat…or to cover myself up so I wasn’t tempted to do anything stupid.
Like agree to a piano bar date when you’d vowed to stay away from him? the irritating voice in my head taunted.
Shut. Up.
I had a bad habit of reneging on my promises to myself. It wasn’t a great attribute, but I owned it, though I didn’t particularly like being called out on it.
The current sonata ended, followed by a wave of polite applause.
Kai dragged his gaze up to meet mine again. The slow-spreading burn followed, gliding over my hips, my waist, my breasts, and my neck before settling on my cheeks. I wore one of the slinkiest dresses in my collection—a little burgundy velvet number that I’d thrifted at the Looking Glass boutique—but I might as well be trekking across the Sahara in a full-length parka.