Ru chuckles. “Just make sure they’re legal.”
Grabbing the door handle, I pause. “Ru?”
He grunts.
“Make sure Peter knows I’m so looking forward to meeting him face to face.”
3
Wendy
An hour ago, I would have sworn we were on the verge of being arrested, and now I’m sitting in the VIP room of a swanky bar, sipping overpriced champagne, courtesy of “an admirer.”
Apparently, the legal drinking age is more of a suggestion here than an actual requirement. Embarrassment slams into me as I think of all the people outside, watching Maria yell because the bouncer didn’t fall for my fake ID. I’m not surprised, I don’t look a thing like Angie’s sister. I was two seconds away from dipping into the closest cab and bolting, but then a blond man in a fitted suit walked out and whispered in the doorman’s ear. Next thing you know, we were led to a VIP area.
I feel extremely out of place, but this is arguably the most fun I’ve had in years, which makes me feel pathetic considering we aren’t doing anything other than drinking and people watching.
Or more specifically, watching for one person.
Hook.
I roll my eyes at the name, but can’t help the tendril of curiosity that’s bloomed inside of me. Apparently, he’s the main reason they always come to this place over any other. Just for the hope to see him again.
Maria swears he’s her soul mate, so every weekend she shows back up, her eyes peeled and her legs already half open, hoping he’ll come down from his ivory tower and she can steal him away.
“So, tell me about your man,” I say to Maria as I sip from my champagne flute and glance around the room.
Angie groans. “Ugh, don’t get her started.”
Maria’s face splits into a grin. “It happened about a month ago when I was at the bar getting a round, and I swear to you, the crowds parted and there he was. Sitting like a fucking god in the back booth, cigar smoke swirling around him.”
“Did you go talk to him?” I ask.
Angie laughs. “Yeah, right. She’d have to get through all his lackeys for that.”
I cock my head. “His ‘lackeys?’”
She lifts a shoulder. “He’s always surrounded by men.”
My brows shoot to my hairline. “Maybe he’s gay.”
Angie cackles, but Maria’s gaze narrows. “We had a moment.”
“A moment so strong, he never searched her out after,” Angie snorts.
“He’s clearly a busy man,” Maria snaps, wiping a strand of hair from her face. “But that’s why we’re here now. One of these nights, he’ll find me.”
“And he’ll take you up to his bed and split you apart with his monster cock.” Angie’s eyes grow big as she spreads her hands shoulder-width apart.
Giggling, I rub my face. “Well, that sounds realistic.”
Maria’s lip curls. “Girl, why’d you even come if you’re gonna talk shit the whole time? You could have just stayed home and saved us all this trouble.”
I shrink into myself, my stomach burning with guilt. “I’m sorry, I believe you, I do.” My fingers tangle in my lap, twisting around each other. “You just make him sound so… mythical.”
Her eyes roll. “It’s not like he’s a figment of our imagination, Wendy. He’s a businessman. He owns the fucking bar!” Her hands smack the seat cushion.
My brow rises. “He does?”
“I think so, anyway. He’s not always down here, but whenever he is, he comes from the back and always sits in that same spot.” Maria points to the far corner of the room, where a booth sits—an empty space in the otherwise crowded room.
She takes a sip of her drink. “Anyway, luck is on my side. I can feel it.” She taps her long, red nail to her temple.
I lean over, clinking my champagne flute against hers, trying to mend the bridges I’ve obviously torched before they could finish being built. “I think you’re right. It does feel lucky tonight.”
Maria grins—the first genuine smile she’s ever given me—and satisfaction blossoms in my chest. Maybe I’ll be okay at this friend thing, after all.
Suddenly, heat pricks the back of my neck, and I twist in my seat, an unsettling feeling of being watched washing over me. But when I turn, there’s nothing there.
Odd.
I drain the rest of my glass and stand, leaning in toward the girls. “Hey, I’ll be back. Need the ladies room.”
“Hey,” Angie shouts when I’m halfway out of the room. “The one down here is always packed. Find the hallway to the right of the bar, there’s one in the back that isn’t used as much.”
Nodding, I commit her directions to memory and leave, weaving my way through the main area. My vision blurs the slightest bit from the champagne, and I stumble, slamming into a body.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” My hands reach up instinctively, landing against a solid wall of muscle. Rough palms grasp my shoulders, goose bumps sprouting along my skin from the heat of the stranger’s touch.
“Filthy words for such a pretty mouth.”
The deep, accented voice slides across my skin like silk and wraps itself around me, a shiver skating down my spine. His grip tightens, palms moving until they brush my upper arms. My hands are still pressed against his chest, the black fabric of his suit soft under the pads of my fingers. My breath stutters as he sucks me into his gaze, his eyes like cerulean glass, an almost haunting chill to their beauty.
I break our stare, finally letting his words filter into my brain. “Excuse me?”
He smirks, and I take in his high cheekbones, a natural highlight falling on the sharp angles, contrasting harshly against his jet-black eyebrows and tousled hair.
My stomach clenches as I realize just how attractive this man is.
His mouth descends until it’s next to my ear, his breath trickling down my neck, making heat spike through my core. “I said—”
“No, I heard what you said,” I cut in. “My question was rhetorical.”
He leans back, a slow smile spreading across his lips, his thumbs rubbing up and down in a rhythmic motion against my bare skin. “Oh?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
My chest tightens as I glance around, taking in our surroundings. Dozens of people, and yet, it feels like he’s the only one in the room. His energy crackles through the air, desperate to cling to his skin. This man screams power, and for a split second, I wonder what it would be like to dive into his brand of trouble. To live without limits, just for a while.
Ridiculous.
Shaking my head, I step back, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. “Okay, well, this has been…”
“A pleasure,” he purrs. He moves into me again, grabbing my palm and bringing it to his lips, skimming them back and forth in a whisper of a kiss.
My heart skips. “I was going to say strange, but sure… a pleasure.”
Taking my hand away, my stomach twists. I almost feel disappointed to be leaving him, and the feeling is unsettling. I move to walk around him, but he grasps my arm, pulling me back until I feel every hard line of his body against the soft curves of mine. Gasping, I freeze in place. This man—this stranger—touches me like it’s his right. Like I’m his to touch.