Page 7 of Pick Your Poison

“What’s your name?” he asks blatantly.

“Lilith,” I say.

“Lilith.” He arches a brow and flashes a smile that could incinerate panties across the world. “As in the wife of Lucifer and Queen of Hell?”

I smile and shrug. “She was that to certain people in certain ideologies, yes. My parents were eccentric, apparently.”

“It’s a lovely name that suits you well.”

“Should I be offended by that? Some perceive her as very evil.”

“Some, and those that do are simply jaded and unable to understand her.” He takes a slow sip of the dark amber liquid in his glass.

“I’ve told you my name, I think it’s only fair that you tell me yours.”

“Carter. My name is Carter Bellevue.”

I choke on the drink I’m trying to take, coughing and sputtering so much that people actually turn to look at me in annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” I cover my mouth and cough more, “Bellevue? As in... “ I wave my hand around the room. “Bellevue?”

“The very same. Inherited from my father.”

“No way,” I call his bluff because there is no way a fucking Bellevue, a millionaire, would want anything to do with me. “Who are you really?”

He holds up a finger and stops a passing waitress, taking two flutes of champagne from her tray. “Thank you, Katerina.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Bellevue,” she says, batting her lashes, with a tone that could belong to a phone sex operator before carrying on with her job.

“As I was saying,” he says with a smidge of arrogance, “my name is Carter Bellevue. I am the owner of the Bellevue Hotel with my brothers. They are around here somewhere.”

“Wow, um, okay, sorry, it’s just that I’m used to men lying to try to impress me. It’s my natural reflex to just call bullshit.” I take the flute that he offers to me.

“Finish that drink and I’ll impress you in other ways, Lilith.” My eyes widen at the insinuation, but he just laughs. “I meant on the dance floor. I’d like a dance.”

“Oh,” I say, as my cheeks flush red which only worsens when I feel his gentle touch on the apples.

“That’s a lovely color. If that’s what you do when I make you nervous, I’ll be sure to do that more.”

Our conversation moves with ease as I finish my drink, and not once does he rush me or turn his focus elsewhere. It’s as if I’m the only woman in the room. His eyes are only on me even as half-dressed, better looking women strut and dance around us. His attention is intoxicating and I’m quickly becoming addicted.

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