Page 63 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Oh, I was wondering when you were going to ask. I almost thought you already knew about me.” I stop dancing, remove one hand from his neck, and grab his hand, forcefully shaking it. “Hi! Hello there. I’m Briar Reyes. Why don’t we take this conversation to a more private setting? I don’t like talking business while everyone is just trying to have a good time, you know?”

Charlie tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip on him.

“Come on, Charlie,” I purr. “We can have a room together—just you and me.”

His eyes widen, darting around, probably looking for his plague friend. It's too bad Nat and Oscar have already taken care of him.

I clear my throat. “Follow me,” I whisper against his ear, pulling him with me. I quickly catch Nat’s eyes and subtly nod. She nods back before turning to Oscar, who also glances in our direction.

“Where are you taking me?” Charlie asks, and I can’t help but feel a sense of glee and excitement when his voice shakes with... fear? Or maybe he’s just really drunk. With the number of glasses I’ve seen him consume, I wouldn’t be surprised. However, he’s not talking in cursive yet, so who knows?

“Somewhere private,” I say, “Where you and I can have some fun if you get my drift.”

Well, fun for me… I don’t know about him.

Unless he’s into knife play. As soon as I find an empty room in the back, I pull him inside and close the door, locking it securely. I turn around to see him staring at me with wide eyes, anticipation radiating within them. Does he seriously think I’m here to literally fuck him and not fuck him the shit up?

I wink at him, and my eyes quickly dart to the growing tent between his legs.

I wrinkle my nose. Yup, he thinks I’m here to play with him. Too bad it’s a different kind of play, though. I slowly approach him, my fingers trailing against his neck and down to his chest.

“Ready to talk business now, Charlie?”

“Huh?”

“Where’s the precious cargo you owe Mr. Rogers?”

He blinks like a fucking idiot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

I roll my eyes, surprised that my patience had disappeared quickly. Man, I was hoping to drag this out and shit, so why do I just want to end this now and get it over with?

Because you want to find Rurik, that’s why.

Fuck.

You.

Rurik.

Constantly invading my thoughts when I should be focusing on work — Shit!

Charlie tries to run around me, but I immediately trip him with my foot. He lands on his belly and gasps when his mask flies off his face. He turns around to face me on his back, throws his hands up, and starts pleading, “Wait! Please! I can get them all back! I can give you names! I’ll tell you everything! It’ll just take me a while, please! Let me talk to Rogers —”

“You want to speak to Rogers?” I interrupt, pulling my phone out from my cleavage — Don’t fucking judge me. Until women's clothing decides to make designs for women in this century (aka include deep pockets), I will stuff my shit anywhere — and text Nat.

“Yes, yes! Please!”

“To clarify, a Rogers, right? Like, not necessarily the head man himself?”

Charlie looks at me with confusion, his eyes squinting as if he was thinking too hard. He blinks a few times, looking even more clueless than usual.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupts him.

“Oh!” I lift a finger, “Hold on. I think that’s for you.” I sidestep him, pick up his mask, and open the door. I grin widely at my best friend. “Hey.”

Nat raises a brow and closes the door behind her. “Why did you text me to come here?”

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