Page 18 of Black Velvet

"Elene."

The way he says my name is hauntingly beautiful, and it scares me. I turn back to him, catching his odd-colored eyes.

"You may not remember that day, but I do," he says. "That day is what brought me here tonight."

I bite my lower lip, unsure what to make of his words. Why is he saying all of this now? Why didn't he start out our conversation with this? Why didn't he use that "have-we-met-before" line that so many others do? If what he's saying is true, it would have been the perfect opener.

His words unsettle me.Heunsettles me.

And he doesn't stop.

"And you know what the biggest disappointment of tonight is?"

I shake my head.

"Seeing you on that stage dressed in white," he reveals. "Realizing that I can't touch you, I can't fuck you, I can't have you."

He tenses up and his fingers crawl into the flesh of my upper thigh when he pulls me closer. I hold on to the countertop in an attempt to keep my balance, so I won't fall off the high chair and land in his lap.

"Please, st—"

Our faces are so close that I can feel his hot breath on my skin when our eyes meet. He looks angry, wild, filled with carnal need.

"I no longer do this," I whisper. "I no longer fuck for money, Sir Graves."

"I know the rules," he growls. "But that doesn't mean I like them."

His grip loosens and I let out a sigh in relief before sliding down from the chair, my heels touching the floor as I try to stand on shaky legs.

"And call me Damon, for God's sake," he adds, casting me one last angry look before he turns his back to me, signaling that our time together is done.

For now.

My heart is still pounding in a blend of confusion and anger, arousal playing havoc with me as I stalk away from him.

Chapter 12

Damon

I didn't know what she would do after I shared my little secret with her. Finding out her reaction was part of the thrill.

And she was perfect.

I could see the lust in her eyes. Her face was glowing with heat, and I bet that's not the only part of her body that reacted this way to my words. She was drawn to me, but scared at the same time. She didn't know what to make of my words, because they came as a surprise to her.

I don't blame her.

I don't blame her for sighing with relief when I let go of her. I don't blame her for retreating. And I don't blame her for walking away from me.

Because I saw it, too. I saw the madam walking by and giving us looks. I touched her. I leaned in to her, and for more than a moment, it looked as if we were about to kiss. That cannot happen with an angel. Conversations have to be treated like a normal date, but in the end, the limitations are even stricter than that.

I get why she had to walk away from me. I get that, and I respect it. For me, it only increases the excitement. It prolongs the hunt and makes the reward taste that much sweeter.

What I don't get is what she is doing now.

She's sitting across the room, talking to another client, laughing and smiling, more than she did when she was with me. Her entire attention is absorbed by a man who could easily be her father. He's sitting on one of the button-tufted love seats in the lounge area, and she's sitting on the cushions right next to him, so close that their legs are touching, so close that she's practically leaning against him. It looks almost intimate, comfortable.

But I know it's all an act.

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