Page 16 of Under the Lies

He is the judge. The jury. And the executioner.

Noah’s voice grows colder with every sentence. Angry. I can feel the anger pouring from him. Even when he’s silent. It fills the room.

You don’t try and cheat the Devil. He’ll always win.

He snaps his fingers and a cigarette girl walks to him, her tray full of champagne. He picks up a flute, holding the delicate glass between two fingers, raising it above his head. A toast. “Now.” He smiles, dark delight brightens his harsh features. “Let’s get back to why you came here. To drink and give me your money!”

As the crowd cheers with him, I scrunch my face.

Seriously?

Noah tips his drink back, christening his words.

When he places his empty glass on the tray, he’s not paying attention to the crowd as they walk around him, going back to their table of choice.

He can’t.

Not when his eyes are on me.

If he looked intense before, it has nothing with the fervor that burns behind his eyes.

A fire erupts in my stomach under his stare. Starting from the top of my head, his penetrating eyes drink me in. They feel like a caress reaching all the way to my bones. Sensual and commanding, calling me to attention. Everything else fades to the background.

My memories of him, even from earlier this week, haven’t done him justice as I take him in. Dressed in another black on black suit, he’s as polished as they come. Except for his hair, it’s a wild mess on top of his head.

A flash of that woman on his lap burns through my mind. She knows what I’ve always wondered. What’d it’d be like to feel Noah in the palm of my hand. To come undone and lose control with me.

A sea of people walk between us but it’s like we’re the only two in the room. I hear nothing, see nothing except him. Until someone knocks into me, jostling my shoulder, the connection between us is broken.

I lose him to the crowd. He left the safety of his booth and has made himself approachable to everyone who wants a piece of him.

Everyone except me.

Feeling warm and overwhelmed as the noise of the room comes rushing back to me, I need a drink. A large, stiff drink.

Before turning my sights on the bar, I turn to Brin to ask if she wants anything but I see she’s already preoccupied with the poker player from earlier. When I reach the bar, the tall bartender with peppered hair from Heathen’s Hell appears as I slide into a stool.

What’s he doing here?

He winks. “Lemon drop, right?”

Slowly, I nod.

The bartender walks away and I feel a body slide behind me.

A sense of déjà vu washes over me as I keep my gaze trained on the shelves upon shelves of liquor.

Without looking, I know who it is. There’s an energy around him that’s charged and always has been, only to be amplified with time.

“You look lonely.”

I shift in my seat at the sound of his voice.

Smooth and rich, the finest liquor on the top shelf. Intoxicating. It warms me and chills my bones at the same time.

He followed me over.

The little kernel of knowledge does nothing to help the flutters and nerves twisting my stomach. Thank God the bartender returns with my drink. I take a healthy sip as he nods to Noah.

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