Page 2 of Scarred Heir
“I’m not… uh, I’m not nervous.” She slipped her hands out from beneath mine. “Do you make it a habit of touching women without their permission?”
“I always have permission, but not everyone has permission to touch me.” I motioned for the bartender to get her a new drink. “I might make an exception for you.”
“I don’t…” When she stared at me, the dusting of freckles beneath both of her eyes caught my attention. “You’re awfully bold.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
She tucked her mahogany curls behind her ear and smiled at the bartender when he placed a fresh martini in front of her.
“Thank you,” I said as he handed me a shot of my favorite Russian vodka. “You’re doing a fantastic job.”
“Thank you, Mr. Accetti.” He took the empty martini glass from the bar. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”
I lifted my glass and nodded at him as he went back to tending to the hectic bar.
“Happy New Year’s Eve.” I clinked my glass with hers before downing the shot.
“You’re Milo Accetti.” She took a sip of her drink. “This is your club.”
“I bought it a couple weeks ago.” I pushed my shot glass to the edge of the bar. “It needs work.”
“It has potential.” She gazed around the bar. “No one seems to mind that it needs work.”
“No one seems to mind the free booze and food.” I leaned against the bar. “You know who I am.”
“Everyone here knows who you are.” She went back to twisting her hands. “You’re pretty popular.”
“What’s your name?”
“Sable.”
“Like the fur?”
“Like the animal.”
I followed her gaze across the room where a group of men were huddled in a corner. Three of them were familiar to me, but I couldn’t identify the fourth one. He wasn’t wearing a suit; just a wrinkled dress shirt and no tie.
“Do you have a last name, Sable?”
“Everyone has a last name, Mr. Accetti.”
After she traced the sugar rim of her glass, she brought her finger to her lips and licked the sweet essence from her fingertip. Her last name could have been fucking Satan and I wouldn’t have cared.
“Your last name isn’t important to me.” I ran my finger along the rim of her glass, and then pressed it to the seam of her slightly parted lips. “I don’t need it for what I have planned.”
Her lips trembled as she darted the tip of her tongue out and licked the sugar from my finger.
How submissive.
If that action wasn’t hot enough, the blush that spread across her cheeks made my cock swell in anticipation.
“What are you drinking?” I asked.
“A lemon drop.”
I’d like to drop something down her throat.
As she continued to focus on the men across the bar, I assessed her appearance. There was nothingManhattanabout her. No filler in her lips, no eyelash extensions or polish on her unmanicured nails. Her eyebrows weren’t even filled in, and she didn’t have any highlights in her hair.
