Page 125 of Offside Devil

Her hair… It’s black. So black it’s almost blue in the light from the disco ball. It falls in long waves over her shoulder and when she turns, I see?—

“What the fuck?” Daniel yelps, almost tipping over our ridiculously small table when I jump to my feet.

The blood pumping through my veins is a whirr in my ears, drowning out the music in the bar and whatever Daniel is saying.

It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters.

Because Mira is here.

And some other asshole has his arm around her.

49

MIRA

Taylor has had some bad ideas over the years.

Responding to that email about the foreign prince with the amazing business opportunity? Bad.

Cutting her own bangs? Really bad.

But as Zane rounds the bar, dappled disco ball light glinting off the murderous look on his chiseled face, I know that this is, by far, her worst idea yet.

“Abort, abort,” I hiss under my breath, kicking Taylor in the shins.

She waves me off and flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder. “So, what were you saying about mutual funds, Jason?”

“My name is Marcus,” the man next to her drones.

“Of course it is.” She giggles like a demented hyena.

I try to reach for the back of her dress. Maybe if I rip the zipper open, we can claim a fashion emergency, dart into the bathroom, and slip through the window before Zane gets over here.

By the time he gets back to the condo, I’ll be in my flannels and he’ll think he was seeing things.

But then the man next to me tucks his hand around my waist and slides me so close to him that we’re practically sharing a stool.

“Whatcha drinking, darling?” he purrs in a way that lets me know he thinks this is going way better than it actually is.

“Nothing. I don’t drink, actually. Ever. Not even water.”

He pulls back, his face frozen between a laugh and a frown. “What?”

“Yeah, it’s a weird religious thing. I never, ever consume liquids.”

“You’re kidding.” He looks at the lemonade in front of me and back to my face like he’s trying to decide if that’s a statement or a question. Finally, he smiles. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re in danger,” I warn him. “You should go. Now.”

But I know it’s too late as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I feel an electrical charge in the air as Zane gets close. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hair was standing on end.

And when Zane rips the arm around my waist away and lays his fingers on my bare shoulder, it’s like being shocked with a defibrillator. My heart is racing. For the first time all night, I feel alive.

“What the hell?” Finance Bro slams his drink down on the bar and spins around. “Who the fuck do you think you?—”

His voice trails off, and I don’t need to turn around to know he’s taking in Zane. All of Zane.

“Since you’re the one with your hands all over my woman, I’ll ask the questions,” he snarls. “Who the fuck are you?”

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