Page 46 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

Maybe hewasreally just using her, as the others said. Maybe it was only—

“Oh shit!”

A look at the time forced me to shower quickly and get changed. I slipped on my server’s uniform, which was really nothing more than an elegant, tight-fitting black dress and a pair of expensive-looking shoes. The outfit was borderline sexy, actually. Judging from the fact that all the servers were women, and the VIPs were men, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I stepped out of my room and found the hall empty in both directions. In a flash of alarm, I wondered if I was late. Andre had given me an itinerary; one that Raif himself had approved after ‘several revisions’. I was starting to realize that everything was being run with military precision. I had to be in the right place at the right time, or else.

I picked up the pace until I was practically running, flying through the upstairs hallways, turning blind corners and—

“Unngff!”

I slammed full-speed into another body, which was much bigger and thicker than mine. As I bounced backward and fell, a hand reached out deftly and closed over my wrist. A strong arm pulled me back to my feet, just mere inches before I would’ve hit the floor.

“Whoa!” a deep voice cried out. The hand still holding my wrist steadied me, then relaxed. “Are you okay?”

I pulled my hair back, and found myself staring at a man in an impeccably-tailored, button-down shirt. He was big, broad, and powerful, with an expression that was both frightening yet thrilling at the same time.

“I—I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I guess I was—”

“Running like the devil was chasing you?”

For some reason, I looked everywhere but into his eyes. The man had a full head of jet-black hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail that reminded me of the old Steven Seagal movies my brother used to make me watch, back when Jason was on a martial arts kick.

“Something like that,” I managed to finally answer. The man was blocking my way. Not intentionally, but he stoodbetween where I was and where I needed to go. “I’m sort of late for—”

“What’s your name?”

The voice was friendly, but also strangely commanding. It also left no room for refusal, or debate.

“Emily.”

“Emily what?”

My pulse was already racing with the prospect of being late. Now, it jumped to almost double time.

“Emily Langone.”

I tried not to look stunned. In a panic, grasping for a quick lie, I’d given him my real last name!

“Ah, French,” the man smiled. “Normandy region, right?”

“Actually, yes.”

He smiled, and his smile was deceptively warm. The warmth meant nothing, however, when I finally saw his eyes.

Holy FUCK.

His eyes were so dark they seemed black; liquid pupils blending with near-obsidian irises. If Raif was dangerous, this man was straight up lethal. His eyes told me this without telling me. They exuded a dark charisma that lured people in, but they also dared anyone to defy him.

This man, I knew, was one of the Founders.

“Where are you from, Emily?”

“The States,” I said needlessly. When he raised an eyebrow, I added: “New Hampshire.”

“Hmmm. A New England girl.”

I nodded silently.

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