Page 40 of Mr. Wicked

But things had taken an interesting turn right before his guests had left. The woman with the red glasses, who had been sitting next to him, had approached me. The business card she’d handed to me showed she was a publicist with an office in the Back Bay, not far from the bar, where she’d asked if I would meet her this week. She wouldn’t say why. She wouldn’t say what she wanted. She was just adamant that we chat.

Since my interest was piqued, I’d told her I would see her tomorrow morning.

That was about thirty minutes ago, and I still couldn’t figure out why someone associated with Grayson would want to speak to me.

It was that lingering question that made me want to join him and ask.

At least that was what I told myself.

I collected the check from my second-to-last table, the bar now almost empty, and I entered the tip into the computer. Just as I turned away from the screen to walk to his table, I felt him again.

His eyes.

A stare that deepened its way through my body. That dipped and rose, like the bouncing of a tennis ball.

A heat began to build between us as I made my way over to him. Once I arrived, I needed to do something with my hands and gripped the edge of the round wood table. At the very least, to keep them steady.

Why did he still have this effect on me?

Why wasn’t I glaring at him while breathing fire like a dragon?

Why was his stare unlike any of the others I’d received tonight?

One that made me feel.

One that made me yearn.

“Jovana . . .”

My name sounded different coming out of his mouth compared to everyone else who had spoken it this evening.

A voice that was deep, gritty.

Far too sexy.

“Yes?”

“I want to know something.” His arms landed on the table, his hands slowly crossing.

Those fingers. Oh God. I remembered them.

Their power.

Talent.

And even though I’d come here to ask a question, I was intrigued by his.

“Yes?” I shifted my weight, attempting to take a breath.

“Have you felt my eyes on you tonight?”

My face reddened, sweat now beginning to seep through my skin. “I have.”

“The last time I saw you, you were flipping me off before you rushed out of my place.” His exhales were raw, sounding almost like a huff, as if he were fighting to choose his words carefully. “Now that we’re alone, why aren’t you telling me to go fuck myself?”

“Well, for one, I’m at work.”

“That’s the only reason?”

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