Page 7 of Surprise Pregnancy for Villain

Because I’m a watcher.

I watch everything. Every person, every action. It’s part of what I’ve been trained to do, but I’m not here on business, gathering intel or staking out the joint for the next hit job. I’m here for me and my needs. My voracious need to feel something, anything, other than the cold-blooded drive to commit violence on behalf of the Rossi organization.

To some, a club might not be the ideal place to find the future mother of my child, but people from all walks of life come through this place. All I need is a connection. A background check will take care of the rest. In the end, I’ll give my father the grandchild he so desperately wants.

The flashing lights and luminous colors of the place fascinate me, as well as hide me. It’s like stepping onto an alien planet, where I’m a stranger and the laws of nature do not apply. I’m free to watch anything and anybody; act or not act on what I see. It’s my only release from a painful, pointless, dangerous existence. But I know I will never truly escape from it.

I circle slowly around the perimeter of the action on the dance floor, where bodies writhe and jump; men with women, girls with boys, girls with girls, girls by themselves. There are no rules. The deejay is in his zone, moving to the thundering, chest-vibrating beat while the vinyl spins and lasers shoot across the room. The delicious chaos ignites the familiar tingling sensations of excitement,but I’m a watcher, so I content myself with lurking in the shadows and feasting my eyes on the scene before me.

I’m completely aware of the provocatively clad women that pass by me, throwing come-fuck-me stares. I could have any of them bent over a bathroom sink with their legs spread apart in five minutes. But it would be too easy. Easy is boring, and it’s not what I came for. I prefer more interesting challenges, especially for what I want to achieve.

I make my way to one of the bars and order a scotch on the rocks, taking up a position near the end of its long surface, away from others but affording a good sight line to the dance floor. The satisfying fire of liquor burns a path down my throat, while the ice cubes tease my lips with their frosty kiss. Sensation is what I thirst for, what I crave. I want it all the time and all to myself. It’s the only thing that’s truly, singularly mine.

Movement catches my eye as I look up from my glass. My entire body freezes. Two women are making their way onto the dance floor, cutting a swath through the wall of milling bodies. I pay particular attention, as they are conspicuously different from the regular club-goers. They’re dressed in jeans and tee-shirts, with high-top sneakers on their feet.

They reach the epicenter of the action and begin dancing with abandon. The redhead’s long straight locks swirl in a copper fan as she twists and throws her head side to side, but it’s the other that my eyes are fixed on. She’s beautiful in a most unorthodox way. It pulls me in, making my breathing pause for a beat.

The club’s low lights intend to hide its partygoers, which is a relief to them, hoping that bad lighting and a few shots of tequila can get them laid. But she… she stands out.

Her wild mane of dark hair twirls around her shoulders as she dances to the beat, her arms reaching for the sky.Her skinny jeans are so tight, they look as though they’ve been sewn on, calling attention to her shapely legs and thick thighs. A harsh breath puffs from my mouth as I imagine how they’d feel wrapped around my waist. She has curves that a country road would envy, with her wide hips and slim waist, but paradoxically, it's her upper body that steals most of my attention.In her tight little tee-shirt, I clearly see the gentle contours of her pert, round little breasts. Each one would fit neatly in my palms. They’re honestly, deliciously tempting.

I don’t want to lie and say that I’m a gentleman and peeled my eyes away from her. She has an attractive energy that makes it impossible not to look.

Her undulating movements are hypnotizing, almost mermaid-like as she arches her back and sends a wave of motion through her torso and down to her toes. Her flowing mass of jet-black hair skims over her bare shoulders as she twists and turns. I want to touch it, touch her.

Just when I think she can’t be more irresistible, she turns around to her friend and breaks into a huge smile. Pearly white teeth adorns her soft pink lips. She throws her head back and laughs, obviously having the time of her life.

Waving to the bartender for another drink, I empty the glass I’m holding, my eyes still locked on her. She’s still talking, her head bobbing up and down with each expression she makes. Her brows dance on her face and frame her beautifully heart-shaped face. I can see a soft dimple on her cheek.

“Here you go, Sir,” the bartender calls. I half-turn to reach for the glass, and when I twist back, I see her staring right at me.

My breath pauses again. Gentle sparks go off in my stomach. With my hand gripping the glass, and with an expression I hope doesn’t reveal that heart-flipping sensation, I return her stare. I swear that she blushes before looking away.

Now, I want more than to just touch her.Now, I want more than her legs around my waist.

Suddenly, another figure appears in the frame. It’s unlike me not to notice him approaching. I notice everything, but for a moment, I only had eyes for this woman. The young man sidles up behind her, mimicking her movements by thrusting his hips back and forth, his groin rubbing up against her ass. A curtain of red passes over my eyes. I feel like a bull in a bullring, incensed by the matador’s cape and just as ready to charge.

In my mind, she already belongs to me; I’ve chosen her, and I tolerate no interlopers. But before I give in to my instincts, the woman turns on him, pushing him away with a mighty shove, her mouth hurling words I cannot hear over the music. The fury on her face tells me it’s nothing pleasant, though. Clearly drunk, the boy stumbles backward, falling clumsily to the floor.

Oh, she’s a fierce one, which makes me even more intrigued. Her friend drags her out of the crowd and toward the bar, inadvertently making their way toward me. I straighten and take another drink, averting my gaze but keeping them in my peripheral vision. They land, breathless, against the bar in the empty space between me and the other patrons. She’s no more than two feet away, and I sense her heat. They order two cokes. Either they don’t drink alcohol, or they’re underage. I suspect the latter.

“What is it with these men?” she exclaims. “Why can’t they just leave us the hell alone? I’m so sick of all of them, thinking they can do whatever they want. I hate them all.”

“Even your dad?” the redhead asks as their sodas arrive.

“Especially my dad,” she replies, stabbing the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I can’t believe he tried to stop me from leaving home tonight, like I’m a child.”

“You’re his child,” her friend says. “Parents are always protective.”

“Protective my ass. He’s a bully. I’m sick of his threats.”

“Did he actually threaten that he’d cut off your college tuition?”

“Not in so many words, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Oh, Katie, what am I going to do? I’m in deep shit everywhere I turn.”

“Look, you can stay with me tonight, you know that. Worry about your dad in the morning. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for now, okay?”

She nods and takes a long sip from her glass, her lush pink lips wrapped around the straw and her brows in irritated focus. I wonder what’s going on in her mind. I wonder how those lips would feel like on mine. I can smell her, practically taste her, she’s so close. Beneath the sheen of sweat and tantalizing female musk, I detect the fragrances of strawberries and vanilla, and the heavy floral scent of shampoo in her hair.

---