Page 2 of The Last Call
A lazy gaze drifts from her glass to my face. A long linger studying my expression before she takes me all in, sweeping downward, lingering on my crotch with a defiant smirk before she lifts to meet my eyes again.
“Wow!”
Yeah, I’m that guy. The man who impresses the ladies with just one look. I don’t spend over an hour a day in the gym for my fucking health. Just wait until I get her on her back. I stifle a groan. Or on her knees.
“Do you actually get fucked using lines like that?”
Fuck me. She’s incredible. The epitome of elegance with the mouth of a sailor. “Not a line. My hotel. My restaurant. My chair.”
Dainty hands flatten on the ebony speckled counter, leveraging her sweet ass in place as she twists her torso in the stool. Black leather creaking when she strains to check over each slim shoulder.
“I don’t see your name on it. Maybe you should have a sign made. Or better yet, just piss on it. You know mark your territory…” A saccharine smile curls her plump lips, and she twirls a short burgundy fingernail in the air. “…since you own all of this.”
Her condescending tone flames my desire and stirs my dick. Fine. She’s not impressed. I like a challenge, and the night is young. With Zeke fucking flaking on me, I’ve got all the time in the world to prove to her who the boss is. And who she should submit to.
I lift two fingers to the bartender, who pretends to ignore our conversation while he stocks the garnish tray with olives, cherries, and thick slices of lime. Although smart enough to hover in preparation for my demands. “Another one for the lady.”
Spindly hands smooth over his crisp, white apron double tied at the waist. “Yes, sir. A Syrah and a Macallan coming right up.”
My gaze bores into hers. Proving to her the respect I command from my employees. Unmoved by my prowess, she rolls her eyes. Fucking rolls her luminescent ice green eyes at me.
“He knows you drink scotch. Yep, you showed me. You’re definitely in charge.”
Insolence rolls off her body and her tongue. What in the goddamn fuck? I’ve just met this lady, and she can’t stop busting my balls. Even fucking worse, I can’t seem to stop letting her. I’ve got to get my shit together and get back on my game.
I smile. Sweet and contrite. Which. Fucking. Kills. Me. I’d rather twist a rusty dull blade through my gut than show any weakness. But I’ve got to figure her out. Try and comprehend why the fuck she’s not fawning over me like every other woman I’ve ever met. “Listen, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s try this again. I’m Julius Sabatini.”
Delicate fingers softer than silk curl around my outstretched hand. Sparking a current through my pulse. Stirring a rare sensation in me to pull her closer. Some kind of crazy, fucked up primal desire flares deep in my belly to scoop her up and never let her go. I can already tell this is going to be way more than just a fuck. Which means I am totally fucking screwed.
“It’s nice to meet you Julius.”
An amused grin twists her lush mouth. Matching the humor brightening her expression. Her grip tightens as she sets a silver, red-bottomed heel on the swirled sable carpet and slides out of her seat. Her slight body skims across mine. Button nipples straining against the thin cloth of her ivory sheath. Fuck yes, this is what I’m talking about. She’s ready to head upstairs with me and put one of my rooms to the best possible use.
“I’m…leaving.”
Rare shock blasts through me as I watch her glorious hips sway back and forth. Swinging with the rhythmic sensuality of a dancer while she glides away from me and toward some douche bag with a comb over swimming in a baggy, wrinkled suit talking to the hostess.
A woman has never walked away from me.
Ever.
Ido the walking.Theydo the chasing. Begging. Seducing.
What in the actual fuck? Too astonished to move, I stand here like a bitch ass pussy. Completely unable to fathom what in the fucking hell just happened.
A muscle head bigger than me hops up from a sofa near the entrance and follows about one hundred feet behind her. Not interfering yet not completely inconspicuous either. I’m too fucking busy to keep up with Hollywood, but she’s not any celebrity that I can remember. And, I know all the wives, girlfriends, and daughters from the other families so she’s definitely not mafia either.
The asshole waiting for her lights up like he’s just won the fucking lottery as she approaches. Because of course he fucking has. She’s on his fucking puny ass arm. Leaning in with her graceful head only inches from his, listening intently to whatever bullshit spiel he’s laying on thicker than a cement grave. Her glossy hair flutters over her gently defined bicep as she laughs softly in agreement. Cuddling so close like someone’s fucking paying her to hang on his every stupid word.
An amazing woman with a hulking bodyguard dating a nerdy loser. Nothing about this adds up. Until the realization hits me harder than my damn head. Sheisbeing paid. A fucking hooker. Albeit high end and discreet, but still a goddamn hooker. Now I’m fucking furious. Someone’s fucking running game in my hotel. Hell the fuck no.
Another one of Zeke’s fucking failures. I control every goddamn racket in this city, and somebody’s fucked up if they think they can move into my territory. I yank out my phone and pound the digits for my best tech guy so I can figure out who the fuck she works for and shut this shit down.
Now it’s my turn to smirk at the confidence radiating from her svelte frame as she allows the old man to guide her away from me. Although I swear to fucking god the light in the room dims from the loss of her radiance.
At the last second, she looks back over her shoulder. Her succulent mouth parts in surprise when her beautiful eyes meet mine. A marvelous pink flush spreading over her glowing cheeks. I’m an arrogant bastard and can’t refrain from dropping my chin and winking at her. As much as she pretends to loathe me, I can tell I’ve affected her too.
Good. Because it’s the last call, angel. That magnificent ass is mine now.
