Wow. How pathetic can I get?
Thumping waves of deep-based music pulsate through the darkness. With it comes soft, feminine cries and moans of pleasure. Hearing them always touches something inside me. No matter how cold and indifferent I try to be, I can’t completely shut down that side of myself. The side that wants to be touched in the same way after a long day. Instead of being greeted by the cold apartment I can barely afford or comforted by my one-day-dream of Rio.
One thing is completely obvious right now. While my world screeches to an instant halt, the people around us continue their deep dive into carnal pleasures completely unaware of my plight.
One look around me and I know I am alone. Like always.
The one named Grey steps away briefly to murmur something to a passing waitress who hurries off. Probably a complimentary drink or another escort to appease the clientele who are never wrong.
While I get a pink slip.
“Ms. Kane,” the man named Drake draws out my name, his voice deep and smooth as whiskey poured over leather. “Come with us.” His hair is cut short, revealing an earpiece. He briefly touches it, eyes on me, and says, “I’m bringing her to you now.”
I swallow heavily. “Bringing me to where?” I ask, my voice shaking. The first thing I’m going to do when I get back home is to find a steel door, lock it and never step outside again. I can’t seem to stay out of trouble any other way, I swear.
Instead of answering me, Drake eases his large, warm hand from my shoulder and glides it down to settle on the dip of my lower back. The small area just under my bodice leaves about four inches of exposed skin and he expertly finds the one area that turns me to complete putty. It is not even a full-on palm-to-skin touch either. Just the tips of his fingers against my skin. Commanding, yet patient as well.
This man knows how to tease the senses with the lightest of touches without even trying. To keep his prey off their game, probably.
Instead of pushing me roughly where he wants me to go, he uses only the warm tips of his fingers to gently guide me through a lowly lit hallway that seems endless at first. Moments later we climb a set of stairs tucked behind a door leading to a section of the club off limits to people in my position.
The second floor is for higher paying customers and the things commoners like myself are not privy to. Not quite the Attic, but not first level either.
I clamp my fists at my sides to keep my hands from trembling.
Shameful as it is, the sensations of Drake's barely there touch draws out buried fantasies of having more of him touch me from the dark corners of my mind.
Just as we reach the top of the stairs Grey comes up behind us and I feel a solid wall of heat and power surrounding me.
Inky hair as black as midnight encases a face pulled into a stern expression.
I turn abruptly, settling my hands over his hard chest. I feel more than see Drake’s eyes watching my every move. “Truly, please believe me when I say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react the way I did. I wasn’t expecting the man to grab me like that.”
Silence.
“Please. Don’t fire me. I really need this job.” I’ve never begged before. Am I doing it wrong? Realizing my actions, I jerk my hands back but I’m too slow. Grey’s are already covering mine, holding me in place.
Trapped.
Beneath my palms I feel his steady heart beat strong and uniform. Cool and collected. I stare up at him in pure female fascination, suddenly understanding how women could fall for the bad guys when they look this beautiful.
My gaze slides to Drake’s and black eyes rake over me, making me feel exposed. Then gradually they ease up to meet mine. I swear I see a flash of interest shine in the depths of his eyes. While I’m still trying to digest that information, out of nowhere the gorgeous assassin mobster—I don’t know here, I’m taking a stab in the dark at their job titles—smiles. And wow what a smile.
Grey’s voice rumbles beneath my hands. “When you face Sylan, I think the last thing you’ll be worried about is your job.”
God, his voice makes my nipples tighten. I can’t help but wonder what his hands could do to me. And if that’s not bad enough, I can’t take my eyes off the way the light dances off his razor-sharp jawline.
I mentally admonish myself for the direction of my thoughts. Easier to think of how attractive they are rather than the way I know this evening will end, I suppose.
I take a shaky breath. “What will happen now?” I don’t try to hide the tremble in my voice.
Taking my hand in his, Grey pulls me down yet another hallway. Drake is beside us, a light hand on my other arm.
“He’s being removed from the club as we speak. Rest assured he won’t lay another hand on you again.”
I stumble at Grey’s words and a strong hand steadies me. “Excuse me?” Wait. “Sorry, but that’s not what I meant.”
Grey slides me a look that has me clamping my mouth closed. My brain screams for a pause button but it’s clear I’ve jumped from the fire into the frying pan and there is no friend I can reach out to back me up this time.