Page 73 of His To Erase
What does he mean pretend? I arch a brow, as he steps back just enough to break the contact.
The air between us still hums but I force my voice steady. “I didn’t ask you to do anything,” I say coolly. “That’s your fantasy, not mine.”
His mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. It’s something sharper. “Is that right?” he murmurs.
I nod once, holding his gaze. “You think one kiss means I’m yours? That I’m gonna fall into your lap like every other girl in this place?”
His silence is louder than anything he could say.
“I’m not a fucking prize, Frank,” I whisper. “And I sure as hell don’t belong to anyone.”
He watches me—still as stone—but there’s a shift. A flicker of something darker in his eyes like he wasn’t expecting me to bite back.
I reach for my bag, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I don’t wait for a response, I just turn on my heel and start walking.
The club’s too damn loud, the air heavy with perfume, sweat, and power games. My boots echo over the polished floor, head held high even though I can still feel the weight of his gaze burning a hole between my shoulder blades. I don’t care, I just need to get out of here.
I aim for the side exit, the one I passed earlier by the VIP bar. But just as I reach for the handle, a body shifts in front of the door.
“Sorry love, can’t exit here,” he says, voice flat.
I blink, glancing past him like maybe he just means it’s blocked.
“It was open earlier.”
“Club’s at capacity. Policy changed.”
Policy changed? My jaw tightens. Yeah fucking right did the policy just all the sudden change. Maybe it did. How the hell would I know?
The door’s so close I could spit on it and this guy’s acting like I’m trying to breach the Pentagon. I glance over my shoulder, and the hairs on the back of my neck spike before I even see Frank.Of course. He’s moving slowly, slipping through the crowd like he’s got all the time in the world.
I grit my teeth, turning back toward the door. “I’m good, really. Just need to get some air.”
The security guy doesn’t even blink. I don’t hear Frank behind me until I feel him. His voice slides in like smoke.
“Change of heart, sweetheart?”
My body reacts before I can stop it. My spine stiffens and my jaw locks, as I clench my fists to keep from spinning around and slapping the smug off his face, or worse, letting him see I’m flustered.
I school my voice. “Tell your guard dog to move.”
Frank steps closer and the scent of expensive cologne and something darker curls around me. “You didn’t answer my question.”
I whip around, nearly chest to chest with him now. “You really don’t know when to back off, do you?”
He studies me like I’m a problem he already solved but likes watching me squirm anyway. Then he leans in, his mouth brushing just beneath my ear.
“If you wanted to leave,” he murmurs, “you’d have gone through the main entrance. You came here to make a point. I let you.”
I freeze.
My heart hammers against my ribs, part adrenaline, part rage, and part something I don’t want to name.
“You’re not afraid of me,” he says, like it’s a fact and not a warning. “But maybe you should be.”
I don’t turn around. I can’t. My spine locks tight as every inch of my body screams to react, to run or lash out or something—but I don’t. I just stare at the security guard, like this whole moment was designed to remind me who’s in control.
