Jasper clucked his tongue chidingly. “Don’t be silly. I can more than afford to treat you right.” He glanced at the server. “Give her a double shot.”
Well, fuck, then I’d just have to drink it very slowly. Were there any potted plants around I could toss a little into when he wasn’t looking?
But when would Jasper not be looking at me? There wasn’t much else in the room to draw his attention.
The vile man put his arms around my waist, his thick fingers digging into my dress as if he was trying to touch my skin through the fabric. In my head, I imagined smashing his nose into the floor and driving the stiletto heel of my shoe into the back of his skull. I’d take a million more shoot-outs and ambushes rather than end up on a mission like this again.
He sat me down on the divan beside him, his arm draped around my back. The server worked at the bar station and produced two cocktails for us.
“For you, sir, with some of our best vodka,” he said with a smile.
Jasper took the drink from him, took one sip, and spit it back into the glass with a disgusted sputter. “What is this atrocity?” he roared.
The other man’s expression froze with panic. Before he could reply, Jasper grabbed his wrist and twisted it. There was a sickening crack, and the man screamed. A wave of cold washed through my body.
He’d broken the man’s wrist over a drink he hadn’t liked.
“There,” Jasper said in a cool voice. “This might be reminder enough for you to take more care when catering to important clientele. Now go and make me something better.”
My heart lurched at the sudden change in his behavior. It was like watching his skin peel off slowly, revealing his true visage. The jovial front he’d put on downstairs had fallen away completely to show the gang boss beneath, a killer with no repentance. And all that portliness hid more strength than I’d assumed.
The server started back toward the small private bar, his other hand cradling his broken wrist, a faint sound of pain slipping past his tightened lips. My pulse stuttered. I couldn’t sit here and watch him try to put together another drink one-handed. What would this prick do to him if he wasn’t satisfied with that one either?
“Jasper,” I said, restraining a cringe as I set my hand on his chest. Jasper looked down at where my fingers rested. I wondered if I’d made the wrong choice, if he had problems with other people touching him, but then his jowls quivered. His lust practically rolled off him.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he said, rubbing my shoulder in slow circles that made me want to hurl.
I batted my eyelashes at him. “Why don’t I make a drink for you?”
He raised his eyebrows skeptically.
I patted his chest, containing my revulsion. “I’m very good at it. You’ll see.” Before he could stop me, I walked to the bar and dismissed the server, who left without protest. I hoped he could get medical attention quickly.
I considered the ample selection and grabbed a few different bottles. Even at my father’s events, I’d rarely gotten to play with alcohol this top shelf. Too bad I was going to have to play to Jasper’s preferences rather than having fun experimenting.
A splash of this and another of that. A squeeze and a sprinkle, and a small scoop of ice. “Strong and sweet, easy on the ice,” I said as I went. Swaying my hips, I let the dress work the rest of its magic. Jasper’s attention stayed rapt on me.
When I was satisfied with my work, I sashayed up to him, careful not to show a hint of fear. “A special blend just for you.”
He raised the glass to his lips, still eyeing me. I sank into the divan, trying not to hold my breath. After the first sip, he paused. Then he sipped again. A renewed smile crept across his lips that both relieved me and tied my gut in a knot.
A happy Jasper wasn’t necessarily less violent than a pissed off one, just harder to anticipate.
“Drink up,” he said, nodding to my mojito. “We’re only just getting started.”
We’d see about that. But I picked up my glass and gave the appearance of taking a larger gulp when I’d only let a small bit of the liquid into my mouth. The extra rum gave it a sourness that turned my stomach.
Jasper shifted closer to me on the divan, moving to slide his arm around my shoulders. Impatience radiated off him. He might not even let me get through the one drink.
“That was a nice car you sent for me,” I blurted out, remembering what Gideon had dug up about Jasper’s love of classic vehicles. If I could get him talking about something else he was interested in, I might at least buy myself some time. “Very clean lines.”
Jasper cocked his head, an eager spark lighting in his eyes. One point to me. “Oh, I have much nicer than that back home. Are you a car enthusiast?”
I shrugged demurely, forcing a giggle. “Oh, I don’t know a whole lot about them, but I know when I like the look of one. They just don’t make them like they used to back in the ‘60s and ‘70s anymore, do they?”
“No, they don’t. Perhaps another time I’ll have the chance to give you a ride in one of my beauties. Let me tell you about them, and you can pick your favorite.”
As Jasper rambled about his various cars, he polished off his drink and I quickly mixed him another. I brought my glass over to the bar with me and managed to pour quite a bit of it into the ice bucket when he momentarily looked away. When I returned, though, his enthusiasm for that line of conversation was winding down.