Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
He smiles. A slow and dangerous smile that makes something unfurl in my chest.
"Interesting theory. You got all of that just from talking to me for two minutes?"
I nod. “Am I right?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why?”
“A guy needs his secrets.” He gives me a wicked grin.
And it makes me chuckle. “Touché.”
“Besides, I want you to find out for yourself.”
“Find out what?’
“If I always get what I want.”
His words burn with a dark promise.
And those eyes… God, the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s going to bend me over and turn me inside out, given the chance.
Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?
I mean, I deserve a night of forgetting.
And this guy certainly looks like he could make me forget all my troubles. Not that he'd have much to live up to. Sex with Julian was average at best.
How many times did I have to finish myself off in the bathroom afterward?
I have no doubt this guy would make me come before he did. Probably multiple times.
Hell, this guy looks like he’d fuck me into next Tuesday.
A slow pulse takes up between my thighs.
I crush my teeth into my bottom lip, and the sexy stranger’s eyes narrow slightly, and a small muscle ticks in his jaw. Like he’s seconds away from pushing me up against the wall and hungrily devouring my mouth.
Across the room, Vivian's shrill laugh grabs both our attention and we turn to watch as Julian openly rubs her ass while talking to art collectors.
The stranger leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Since I'm in the mafia, I could always have him killed for you."
I laugh, genuinely laugh, for the first time in days. "The night is young. I might take you up on that later."
He laughs, and his eyes gleam with mischief. And for a split second I think he is going to kiss me.
But then his phone rings and the spell is broken.
When he retrieves it from his suit pocket, he glances at the screen with what looks like irritation. "Excuse me. I need to take this. But it’s been a pleasure, Holly."
And just like that, he disappears.
Which is a pity.
Because who knows what might have happened.
My apartment. Us naked. Me not finishing off in the shower afterward.
Wait.
Did he just call me by my name?
“It’s been a pleasure, Holly."
But how does he know my name?
He didn’t tell me his and I’m sure I didn’t tell him mine.
Is it on some marketing material for tonight’s exhibition opening, or did he see it on the website?
Another one of Vivian’s shrill laughs drifts over and rips me out of my thoughts. Julian is standing behind her with his arms around her middle. No doubt he’s got a boner and is pressing it into her ass while they talk with another guest. He’ll be getting off on it.
But then a stunning blonde walks past in a short dress and with legs for miles, and Julian's head turns faster than a weathervane in a tornado, his attention snapping away from pressing his dick into Vivian’s Gucci’d ass without even the pretense of subtlety.
I watch him whisper something in Vivian’s ear and then excuse himself and follow the blonde woman to the bar.
I huff out a deep breath.
I need to get some air.
I head toward the lobby. But I’ve had enough champagne to somehow get turned around, and the door I push through doesn't lead to the lobby. It opens onto a service corridor. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting everything in bright yellow. There's another door at the end of the corridor, and through its window, I can see it’s drizzling outside.
Perfect.
I push through it and step into the alleyway, grateful for the cool blast of air on my flushed skin. But as I lift my face toward the soft rain, the door locks behind me with a decisive click.
Oh damn.
I check it. But it doesn’t budge and I realize I'm locked out now, standing in an alley behind the hotel in December. I'm not dressed for the cold in my cocktail dress, and my heels are Louboutins that make me look like a newborn foal when I try to navigate across the wet cobblestones. But I don't care. The shock of December air against my flushed skin is exactly what I need.
It's beautiful out here. Downtown Seattle is dressed for Christmas, Pioneer Square has transformed into something from a snow globe. Lights twinkle from every building, reflecting off the puddles shimmering on the cobblestones.
I tilt my face up and let the featherlight raindrops kiss my overheated skin and instantly feel better. So much better than—
The sound cuts through the silence like a knife.
A shout. No, not a shout.
A gunshot.
The crack of it echoes off the brick walls, and I freeze, every muscle locking with the rapid onset of fear. My brain can't process what I've just heard, can't reconcile that sound with the soft drizzle falling so peacefully, with the party continuing inside just yards away.