Page 69 of Pawn

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

“And I’m the only option King’s got.” Pushing his fingers through his gelled back blonde strands, he smiles as if he’s pleased with himself. “And it’s my only offer or King can kiss his business good-bye for good. My dad and his lawyers plan to clobber him and take him for everything he’s worth. Including whatever savings he has tucked aside.”

“You’re asking me to be your one-night-stand?” My fists clench under the table, gripping at the hem of my kilt. “Are you that desperate, Craig?”

Rising from his seat, he brings his cup to his lips. “No. But you might be. Think about it. You have my number.”

“How’d you get my number anyway?” I call after him.

He turns around, walking backward to the door. “Who do you think?”

Eighteen

Damien

“King?”

There’s a twitch in my pants at the sound of her voice, but I’m hearing it way too late.

It’s just past eight when Jo flicks the light on in the foyer. I’ve been in my spot on the sofa in the dark living room for the last three hours. The longer she took, the emptier this bottle got. Pulling it to my lips, sweet bitterness washes over my tongue, the conversation with Craig spinning in my head.

“Name your price, Carson.”

“Jo.”

It makes me take another gulp, thinking about how it took the prick a half-second to have her name come flying out his mouth.

“Not a fucking chance, Carson. You take all Johnson’s stash or are you normally this stupid?”

“Guess you’re not the businessman we thought you were. Say goodbye to your company, King.”

“Damien?” Jo flicks on the light, eyes squinting at the sudden change in brightness. With those same narrow eyes, I give my girl a once over. Her uniform is still in place, no crinkles, no crumples. Her hair doesn’t look a mess like it usually does when I’m done with her. “What’re you doing in the dark?”

She walks over, her boots thudding against the wood, the smell of coconut coming with her. When she sits beside me she flips her hair over her shoulder in a way that makes me want to ravish her.

But I have one pressing question. “Where were you?”

No answer and when I look over she’s wiggling that leg, chewing her cheek. Fuck. Taking another swig, I give her another second to answer before I make her.

“Craig.” Her answer propels my arm, bottle flying across the room, smashing against the wall. Her head whips to me, eyes wide. “Relax! Nothing happened!”

My hand comes to her throat, pressing her back against the sofa, chin to the ceiling. I want to believe her, but the thought of Craig getting my girl alone, the thought of his hands anywhere near her makes me want to hurt something. Anything.

“You met up with him?” I growl, her pulse beating against my thumb before I loosen my grip. Bringing myself closer to her face, there’s a worry in her eye. Fear. “Then you lied to me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me go.” She meets my gaze with those golden eyes. Fighting what it does to my stomach, that distracting tightness, I bore my gaze into her. “He said he knew how to get your business back.”

Yeah, I bet he did.

“Did he touch you?” Pushing her face to the side, I’m looking for any signs. I don’t trust the Carsons. Not one bit. Especially when they’re taking my company and using my girl to dangle it in front of me. It makes me angry. Savage. And now I need to remind Jo who runs this shit.

“No!”

I hear her but my mind is one-track. Pushing her chest so she lays her back against the sofa, she doesn’t fight it. No pushback, no protest. That makes me wonder if it’s guilt or that undeniable lust-filled craving for what belongs to her too.

Her lip slides behind her teeth when I spread those legs, getting between them. When I’m close to that heart-shaped pout that’s too fucking delicious to ignore, she confesses. “He asked for one night.”

Fucker.

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