Page 15 of Curvy Girl for the New Year

And that is what cements my decision.

I cross my arms and tell Jenny, “I want it in cash.”

I see the surprise skitter across Jenny’s face before she raises one delicate eyebrow and smiles like the Cheshire Cat, the glee practically oozing off her as she claps her hands together and laughs, “You got it, babe.”

Before I lose my nerve, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and begin making my way over to the corner where Mr. Smexy skulks like some kind of standoffish canine.

I can almost feel Jenny’s eyes boring a hole into my back, taking in the whole scene.

A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars, I chant in my head with each step I take.

As I get closer to him, he starts to notice my approach.

His head tips up, and his eyes laser in on me. The lighting is so dim where he’s standing, it’s hard to make out his features, but his eyes are golden and almost seem to glow like he’s a vampire or wolf or something.

I swallow nervously and try to calm my racing heart.

A thousand dollars. A thousand dollars.

I just hope he doesn’t bite me.

Lucian

My eyes are trained on a tiny form making its way in my direction, and they narrow as it gets closer.

It’s dark in here, and lights flash out on the dance floor, but I’ve sequestered myself in this corner for a reason.

I don’t want to be bothered.

In fact, the only reason I’m here is to meet with a business associate, and the fucker is late.

I’d much rather be back at my mansion. Alone. Secluded. The way I like to be.

I have no use for people beyond employing them.

Social settings aren’t my scene and for good reason. The only reason I agreed to see my associate here is because he’s only going to be in town for one night, and this is where he’s going to be.

For some God forsaken reason.

And it’s a masquerade-themed Halloween ball, so I can cover my scarred face. It’s not that I particularly give a fuck what people think about it. I know that I’m still considered handsome, that maybe the cut that spans right side of my visage simply gives me that allure of danger that some women find so enticing.

But it’s the questions I can’t stand. The curiosity. The goddamned nosiness.

People don’t know me. Nobody seeks me out. My demeanor is just menacing enough to off-put any curious eyes that glance my way.

So why in the hell does this little slip of a thing seem to be walking my way?

My eyes take in her long, dark tresses that flow down to her impossibly tiny waist. Milky white skin that almost seems to glow in the darkness.

Fuck, she’s covered in lace. Her dress must be corseted if the way the two little globes of her breasts are pushed up is any indication. They’re not large by any means, but just the sight of that little bit of modest cleavage has my blood roaring in my veins.

How long has it been since I’ve been with a woman? Since before the incident five years ago at least. I know I have enough money that I can still have plenty of women on my arm if I want.

That’s not what I want, though. Shallow companions, fake smiles.

Since I can’t have a connection, something real, I settle for nothing.

My hands work just fine.

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