Page 11 of Sly Like a Fox
“Usually?”
I meet his gaze across the table.“Sometimes, you meet someone who makes you want to take the risk anyway.”
The moment stretches between us, charged with possibility and honesty.This is the most direct either of us has been about our growing attraction, and something about the acknowledgment makes the air feel electric.
Our appetizers arrive, with calamari for me and bruschetta for him.We’re just settling into discussing his latest consulting project when a familiar voice cuts through the restaurant’s ambient chatter.
“Jenna Johnson, is that you?You look very comfortable in another expensive restaurant.”
I shudder at the familiar voice, recognizing the particular blend of charm and malice that made my life hell for a short time during a foolish relationship.Slowly, I turn to see Doran McKnight approaching our table with a petite brunette in tow.
He’s one of my exes.This one couldn’t handle dating a fox shifter but was perfectly happy to use my abilities when it benefited him.He asked me to help him cheat at poker games and then called me a “manipulative bitch” when I refused.
“Doran.”I keep my voice level, though every instinct is screaming at me to either flee or shift into fox form and bite him.I’m sure he’d taste foul, so I resist the temptation.“What a...surprise.”
“I bet it is.”His smile is all teeth.He’s clearly been drinking.He’s not drunk but loosened up enough to act on impulses he’d normally keep in check.“And who’s this?Your latest mark?”
The brunette tugs on his arm.“Doran, maybe we should—”
“No, Stephanie.You should meet Jenna.She’s fascinating.”He turns his attention to Fenton, who’s been watching the interaction quietly.“You seem like a nice guy, so let me give you some free advice.Jenna here is what we call a gold-digging fox.She’ll charm you, make you feel like the most interesting man in the world, and then clean out your bank account while you’re distracted by her...assets.”
Heat floods my face.Every head within three tables has turned our way, and I feel their curious stares.Part of me wants to sink into the floor and disappear.
Another part wants to stand up and deliver the scathing comeback I’m already formulating about his performance issues and his tendency to cry after sex, along with a passionate defense that I never touched his bank account.He bought me things, but I never had access and never stole a penny from him.
Before I can open my mouth, Fenton stands.Not dramatically or aggressively.He simply rises from his chair with fluid grace and approaches Doran like he’s about to shake hands with an old friend.
“Doran, is it?”His voice is pleasant and almost conversational.“I’m Fenton.Mind if I have a word?”
“Actually, I think I’ve said everything I needed to—”
“I insist.”
Something in those two words makes Doran’s protest die in his throat as Stephanie takes a small step backward.Fenton’s smile never falters, but the air around him feels different.Charged.Dangerous.
What happens next is impossible to follow from my seat.Fenton leans in close to Doran, speaking in tones too low for me to hear.Whatever he says makes Doran’s face go progressively paler, his cocky smirk melting into something approaching panic.Within two minutes, Doran is standing and clearing his throat loudly.
“I, uh...”He looks around the restaurant, taking in all the faces still watching our little drama.“I want to apologize to everyone for the disruption.And especially to...”His gaze darts to Fenton nervously.“To the lady and gentleman at table twelve.I was completely out of line, and I’m sorry.”
“Doran, what—” Stephanie starts.
“We’re leaving.Now.”He practically drags her toward the exit, moving with the urgency of someone who’s just been given a very compelling reason to be somewhere else.
The restaurant slowly returns to normal as conversations resume and attention shifts away from our table.Fenton settles back into his chair like nothing happened, taking a sip of wine with perfect composure.
I stare at him.“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing particularly interesting.We just had a brief discussion about appropriate public behavior.”
“Fenton.”I lean forward, studying his face.“What did you really say to him?”
A smile tugs at the corner of Fenton’s mouth that’s measured and more assessment than amusement.He sets down his wine glass like he’s settling into a debate he already knows how to win.“Doran’s the kind of guy who folds when you so much as breathe confidence at him.”
I tilt my head.“You figured that out in, what, under a minute?”
He cuts into his bruschetta without looking up.“Men like that always show their hand early.He opened with swagger but flinched the second I stood up.I didn’t need intel.Just pressure.”
“Pretty sure threatening my ex wasn’t part of Red’s matchmaker questionnaire.”I’m smiling as I say it, though.
