Page 19 of Heartless Sinner

Damn. When he puts it that way, I sound lame, but I have to be sensible. “It’s been a long day.”

“What if I won’t take no for an answer?” His voice sweeps across my skin like a gentle breeze, and the way he’s looking at me does sinful things to my body. The kind of things that has heat flushing down from my core to my thighs. “What if I’m so attracted to you, I’m not ready to let you go for the night?”

I freeze, my face turning bright red and my throat drying as if someone filled it with sand.

I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone so blatant. And fascinating. The thought of turning him down seems like the antithesis of what I’m supposed to do. Or what I want.

Should I say yes, then?

I was only going to bed to avoid worrying. It suddenly seems a shame to waste this moment when I have a handsome stranger flirting with me.

I should say no, but what if I pretended for the next few hours that I wasn’t in danger and that everything was fine? What if I just forgot the problems and lived for a moment of reprieve?

Could I really allow myself to do that?

Maybe I can…just for tonight.

“I suppose I could join you for a drink. But aren’t you working?” I glance at the other bartenders who are taking orders as more people approach the bar in groups.

Mr. Dreamy—as I've dubbed him in my mind—gives me a disarmingly charming smile. “I don’t think the manager will mind.” As if to confirm his assumption, he nods to the previous bartender who was serving me and he responds with a subtle dip of his chin.

I give him a little smile when he looks back at me. “Okay. Then I guess I can join you for a drink.”

He looks me up and down, his eyes roaming over my face with a knowing look in them, as if he knew my answer wouldn’t have been anything other than ‘yes.’

I blush but try to compose myself.

He walks around the bar and up to me, showing off the rest of his toned, athletic physique. There’s no way he’s a simple bartender. A guy this good looking would never put so much effort into looking this good to work a bar.

“This way, bellezza.”

Bellezza—beautifulin Italian. I don’t know much Italian, but that’s one of the few words I know. And I like it.

Mr. Dreamy waves his hand toward the wide sweeping stairs in the corner, and I stand, feeling like a little bird next to him.

He places a hand to the small of my back; the simple touch makes my heart race.

Scarlett, what are you getting yourself into?

This little rendezvous with the hot bartender may not be a good idea, but I’m going anyway.

The man next to me feels like a drug taking the edge off my stress.

That can’t be a bad thing.Right?

Chapter Five

Scarlett

Mr. Dreamy ushers me toward the stairs and I swallow against the knot in my throat, suddenly aware of how close we are. One more step from him or me, or if he slipped his arm around me, and I’d be pressed up against him.

I push the thought out of my head and try to focus. Maybe that’s the alcohol whispering sinful things to me.

To my surprise, he leads me into one of the VIP rooms. The moment we step inside, my breath is stolen away by the lavish white leather furniture, the satin-covered walls, and the massive crystal chandelier casting patterns across the glossy black flooring.

I look around taking it all in, utterly fascinated. “Wow, this room is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. This is my favorite room in the bar.”

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