Page 19 of Peasants and Kings
They knew what they wanted and how they wanted it, and there was no hesitation in their choices.
Would these be the type of men I spent time with if I became a Rex girl?
The man who faced me moved his head and met my gaze. He arched an eyebrow and a slow smile spread across his face.
I hastily turned around, wanting to hide, wondering if I would learn to flirt and be comfortable being valued for my physical being.
I wasn’t a prude or a virgin. I’d had relationships. They’d been underwhelming and unsatisfying, fizzling out as quickly as they’d started. I’d often wondered if there was something inherently wrong with me, since I could never find a man that held my interest.
Swallowing, I thrust that idea away. If I thought about all the reasons I couldn’t or shouldn’t be a Rex girl, I’d chicken out. I’d walk out of the lobby and never look back, and then I’d have to take my chances on the run again from the Foscari.
But if I said yes? If I said yes, a whole new avenue would open up before me. I didn’t know nearly enough about The Rex world or what it meant to work on The Fifteenth Floor, but I knew that my back was to a wall. I’d lived on borrowed time the past year, and I was exposed and out of money. I wouldn’t survive, not on my own. If I walked away from the offer in front of me, I might never have another chance at starting a new life.
Genevieve wasn’t convinced I was cut out to be a Rex girl, and I agreed with her. I didn’twantto become a Rex girl. But if I wanted to survive, as my mother had told me to do, I didn’t see any other choice.
I was staring into my glass of sparkling water, watching the bubbles fizz and pop when I noticed a man approach the bar.
Even though I was distracted, I couldn’t help but spare a glance in his direction. He unbuttoned his black suit jacket before sliding his large body onto the stool right next to mine. There were a few other seats available at the bar, and I wished he’d used one of them.
His hair was blond with subtle hints of red.
A male strawberry blond. In the wild.
The thought made me smile.
My grin somehow pulled his attention because he looked at me head on. His stormy blue-gray eyes were mesmerizing, and when I was able to pull my gaze away from them, I was finally able to see the entire picture of his face. He had a bold, unapologetic nose which was the slightest bit crooked, no doubt from a fight. His jaw line was chiseled and cut.
He sat close enough that I could detect the faintest trace of expensive aftershave, and it made me wonder at the color of his beard. Would it be blond? Red? Darker auburn? I suddenly had to know.
I’d never seen a man like him in my entire life. Brawny and impressive—and though he filled out the expensive, tailored suit perfectly, it looked like a shield from a world he didn’t belong in. He appeared to be fighting his natural instinct, hiding something in the darkness to seem civilized in public.
“Like what you see?” His voice was a sensual Scottish burr, and it had me shooting my gaze to his face.
He didn’t look at all like he was joking, and there was no hint of a smile on his cruel mouth.
Cruel because his lips were temptation. Full and rich. Designed perfectly to drive hopeless women to the brink of stupidity.
He was too angular, too sure of his countenance to be anything but assertive, and it was clear he wore his natural confidence better than he wore a suit.
Desire pulsed low in my body.
“Cat got your tongue?” he pressed.
His tone did not come out teasing, as if he couldn’t be bothered with banter.
It made my spine snap straight. I would not give him the satisfaction of retreating, of trying to lie and pretend I hadn’t been physically assessing him. If I was interviewing to be a high-class call girl, then why not practice the art of flirtation on a complete stranger I’d never see again?
I took a sip of my water and dropped my chin so that I could look up at him through the sweep of my lashes. “Yes. I think I do like what I see.”
He clenched his carved jaw and refused to turn his eyes away from mine. If anything, his gaze darkened. The mood transformed from stormy to tempest.
What would he be like unleashed?
The fear of the Foscari and the complete lack of control over my own life, the crossroads I was at, all melded together in a stew of lust which I hadn’t felt in far too long. I was ready to do something dangerous.
I wanted to lean toward this stranger, place my lips against his, and get lost in the feel of him for a few hours. It was out of character, it was destructive, it was playing with gasoline and a lighter.
The bartender returned with a platter of bone marrow and set it in front of the man next to me. “Compliments of the house,” he said. “Would you like something to drink?”
