Page 22 of Rugger: The Huntress

“Who is that from? You took on a new contract?”

“For twenty-five thousand dollars, Royce? Don’t insult me.”

“Then, who’d it come from?”

“Someone who wants me to rub my pussy across his beard.”

I ended the call without another word spoken. Silence replaced my sister’s voice.

Chatter filled the crimson-themed room. Patrons of the highest stature lined the bar and filled almost every table inBarBalgaria. The upscale dining hall was primed and polished to accommodate Clarke’s finest.

Tailored suits and custom Chanel clung to the bodies of the wealthy. Over-priced, underwhelming fragrances tugged at the hairs of my nostrils. Comfort rediscovered me.The Balgariawas no strange place. I knew every inch of the building and it wasn’t becauseProject 28andProject 79required my knowledge of the establishment.

My family frequented the hotel and bar. Staycations with the girls atThe Balgariawere a good time though they were few and far apart. Richie had made a friend of the owner. They often bonded over golf. Richie’s death had taken a toll on Mr. Balgaria.

The fact that he didn’t have a funeral and he didn’t get to say goodbye to his dear friend left Mr. Balgaria with unsettled feelings. The large image of Richie at the very end of the restaurant where his table was always reserved told me so. My heart plummeted, threatening to fall from my chest. The sinking feeling in my gut gripped me by the neck and sent my thoughts spiraling.

You’re not supposed to be here. I chastised.Straight to the room.

But, I needed something to take the edge off. To my dismay, I’d been pushed closer to the edge than I preferred. As my eyes began to blur, my heart knotted.

“What can I get for you?”

Thankful for the bartender, I whipped my head in his direction.

“Uh– yes. Dirty martini.”

“Dirty martini, coming right up.”

Who are you kidding?I asked myself, unable to shed the memories of my father.

“And, one for the road.”

“Two dirty martinis coming right up.”

I made my way down the bar and pressed my back against the wall near the entry. With my eyes trained on the bartender and every move he made, I tightened my grip on the purse on my shoulder. He wouldn’t have fingers to continue if I found even the slightest error in his movements.

“You’re going to age the leather much faster than you should if you don’t loosen your grip.”

My eyes darted across the bar, ending just a few inches away from me. Long, bistre brown limbs were hunched over the wooden top. A small, clear glass occupied the phalanges of the hand.His hand. Which was covered in ink.

My nipples pebbled in my blouse. My pupils dilated slightly. The inside of my bottom lip became trapped between my teeth. I was unsteady, unnerved, and unprepared. To encounter a man of such mystique had the wheels in my head turning.

Dressed in black from head to toe, it was obvious he wasn’t interested in his presence being stamped in anyone’s mind.Except mine, perhaps.Freshly manicured nails were signs he took good care of himself. Still, he was difficult to read. The lack of emotion on his handsome face and in his posture left me indifferent.

Mysterious.

Introverted.Orincognito.

Dark.

Though a stranger, he felt familiar. His resolve was easily distinguished. Because he reminded me of someone. He reminded me of myself.

His eyes found mine. And, that’s where they ended. I swallowed the saliva that had pooled in my mouth.

Silence.

Unblinking and unmoving, I matched his gaze. He took his precious time turning to face me completely and standing to his full potential.

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