Page 65 of Red Fury
And Fury…
My breath catches in my throat, despite my best efforts to remain composed. He’s smiling at the redhead, leaning back in his chair with that easy confidence that makes my dragon purr. I remember Thompson’s words from earlier about Fury wanting to get laid tonight, and jealousy crashes over me.
Why?
For the first time in my entire life, I understand what jealousy actually feels like. The way it claws at your insides, making you want to act out of character. I hate the feeling, hate how it makes me feel weak and vulnerable, so I shove it aside.
There is no time for such nonsense.
He’s nothing to me. Less than nothing. Just a Red I’m temporarily working with, and apparently not even that anymore, after our fight earlier.
“This way,” Roman says, his hand back on my lower back as he steers me toward a section that’s separated from the general VIP area.
For a moment, nervousness flickers through me. I’m following a complete stranger to an isolated area, and I don’t know anything about his intentions. Then I almost laugh at my paranoia. He’s a puny human, for crying out loud. I’m a fucking apex predator who could tear him apart without breaking a sweat.
Why do I feel unsure and uneasy?
I’m just being silly, that’s all.
Still, I breathe a small sigh of relief when I see that while his private section is indeed to one side of the main VIP area, it’s still very much in public, with clear views of the club space below. No soundproof rooms or hidden corners where someone could disappear without being noticed.
I choose a seat that will make it difficult for Fury to spot me easily. It has a great view of both the main VIP section and the floor below. Almost instantly, a waitress appears at our table as if she’d been waiting in the wings for Roman’s arrival.
“Good evening, Mr. Kozlov,” she says, her voice breathless with the kind of reverence usually reserved for royalty. “What can I get for you tonight?”
“The usual,” he says without looking at her, his attention focused entirely on me.
The waitress turns to me with the same eager-to-please expression. “And for you, miss?”
“I’ll have the same cocktail I had downstairs,” I say. “The Black Blood Special.”
Roman’s smile widens with approval. “Excellent choice. It’s our signature drink.”
The waitress hurries away to fulfill our order, and Roman turns his full attention back to me.
“So, Claire,” he says, “tell me about yourself. I’m very interested in getting to know all about you.”
I take a breath, slipping back into my cover identity. “There isn’t much to tell, honestly. I’m pretty boring.”
He laughs, the sound rich. “I highly doubt that. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a personal assistant,” I say, which is technically true. “Completely boring profession, I’m afraid. I type. I file… I’m sure you know the drill.”
“It’s honest work. There’s nothing wrong with being a personal assistant, Claire.”
“I know that. I’m happy.”
“And what do you like to do for fun?”
The waitress returns with our drinks, setting them down carefully. She hovers for a moment, clearly hoping for some acknowledgment from Roman, but he dismisses her with a subtle gesture.
When she’s gone, he asks the question again. “What do you do for fun, Claire?”
I shrug. “I enjoy staying in shape,” I say, taking a sip of my cocktail. It’s really good. “I spend a lot of time in the gym. Other than that, I’m super boring. I like reading and binge-watching murder mysteries on Netflix… That sort of thing.”
“And going out with your friends once in a while. You’re here tonight, aren’t you?”
I pause, choosing my words carefully. “I was invited by friends and almost didn’t even come. This isn’t really my thing.” I gesture toward our surroundings, then quickly add, “Not thatthere’s anything wrong with your club. It’s clearly the place to be. I can see why it’s so exclusive.”
