Page 12 of Black Velvet

He’s the most attractive man in the room. I noticed him earlier, stalking the room like a panther in search of prey. In addition to being handsome, he stood out for two things: his age and his height. He's much younger and taller than most, if not all, of the other clients. His dark suit hugs his broad shoulders and stretches around his strong upper arms perfectly, making him appear even more striking, as does his strong jaw, dabbled with the shadow of a two-day stubble. I thought his hair was black at first, but it's actually dark brown, and he has surprisingly bright eyes. Are they blue? Or gray? It's hard to tell, and I can't find the courage to look directly into them for too long.

Damn, he unravels me. His presence is weirdly unsettling.

And scary.I'm scared of letting him down, of disappointing him. All because I'm dressed in white. I know he must be aware of the rules, but the way he's looking at me suggests that he's not above breaking them.

His eyes narrow as he studies me thoughtfully. He told me to look at him, so I do, but it’s nearly impossible to withstand his piercing gaze.

"Why are you so nervous?" His voice is deep and pervasive.

I cast him a coy smile, trying to transform my vulnerability into allure. Men like him exert power over others for pleasure, power. It speaks to their nature, and it's my job to yield with grace so he can ride out his high, even if he's not allowed to touch me.

"It's a big day," I say, lacing my voice with faux sweetness. "Opening night. We've been waiting a long time for this day."

He nods, but doesn't look happy.

"You're a Violent Delights girl," he says. "I know what you girls are paid for. This shouldn't be easy play compared to the things you're used to doing."

Now I'm the one narrowing my eyes as I regard him with suspicion. What is he getting at?

The stoic expression on his face changes into a smile, and I suppress the urge to jerk away from him when he leans in closer. Magnetic attraction often has the opposite effect on me than it does on others. He's so close now that I can smell his cologne, masculine, with a hint of citrus.

"Let's try something," he says, his voice so low that I can barely hear him over the background filter of jazz music and the noise of muffled conversations. "Just relax and treat this as if it’s a normal date. Forget about who you are tonight, forget about who I am. Just act as you would on a normal date."

A normal date? Notthatagain.

I try to smile, but it must appear as fake as it feels.

"Yes, sir," I retort. "We can certainly do that."

He shakes his head, clearly disappointed in my response.

"No, no," he says. "That's exactly what Idon'twant to hear from you."

I arch my eyebrows in confusion. "I'm sorry, I—"

"I know you know how to please," he interrupts sternly. "Don't stage your fake persona for me. Just be yourself."

He pauses, catching my gaze once again before he raises his hand, pointing his index finger at me.

"I want to know whoyouare," he says.

I don't know whether to be flattered or scared, but my response is a perfect example of what happens when I forget the parameters of my job.

"Why?" I blurt out.

He leans back then, putting distance between us while he reaches for his drink. Disappointment runs through my veins, but I can't stop myself from letting out a gasp of relief nonetheless. His proximity cages me in more than it comforts me, but I still take pleasure from it.

"Why?" he repeats my question, taking another sip of his drink before shaking his head.

Shit, I'm really bad at this.

"I'm sor—"

"If you say you're sorry one more time, I will file a complaint about you," he warns, side-eyeing me. "I'm sure the madam wouldn't be happy to hear about how you displeased a well-paying customer, a VIP member even."

I swallow hard, the forbidden words almost slipping from my lips again. I stop myself from apologizing just in time by taking a sip of my drink. The tangy blend of bitter and sweet warmth tickles my throat as it goes down. Soon, my cheeks will start glowing from the effects of the alcohol. I will have to be careful about my intake, and not only because of the metal spines that cinch around my waist. I can't get drunk. The evening is only getting started, and he's not the only client who'll be expecting conversation tonight, though he may be the only one who proves this challenging.

I take a deep breath, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. His eyes are on me when I turn back to him.

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