Page 22 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

I swallow hard.

“I was looking for coffee to sober up. I say, knowing that they could only see me walk back to the bedroom because I turned off the cameras. And I’d been sure that the footage wasn’t recorded anywhere else.

“And I thought you were going to tell me you’re a sleepwalker.”

“Thank you for the roses. They are beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, in this dress.”

I give him a small smile, allowing my dimples to show.

He offers me his hand, and I take it, walking down the steps.

“We’re going to my favourite Korean restaurant. The food there is out of this world.”

He opens the car door for me. It is a different car than last night’s. A black Jeep, higher up, easier to get in. He slides in the other side and introduces me to a man he calls Spark.

“Hi Spark,” I say.

“Hi,” he says, pulling out into traffic.

“How was your day?” Liam asks

“I went to Gucci and then I got some sleep.” I say.

“That must be why you’re looking even more beautiful than usual,” he says, his eyes resting on mine

“How was your day?” I ask.

“It was full of images of you laying on my bed.” He wets his lips as his teeth skirt his lower lip.

“Now it’s full of images of your lipstick.” He pauses and leans in to whisper, “smudged around the base of my cock.”

Just when I was giving O’Shaughnessy too much credit for being classy.

“We’re here, boss,” announces Spark, jumping out of the car to open the door for me.

Liam offers me a hand. He opens the door and ushers me behind a black curtain through a long corridor where spices heat the air.

“This is a private room,” Liam whispers in my ear as he opens a door to a red room with a large red lantern overhead. The wallpaper is art déco modern art dashes of gold. I squint trying to place them as Korean characters, but it appears they are completely random.

The waiter appears and brings us what looks like a grilling plate to our table.

“The beef, the salmon, everything here will melt in your mouth.” Liam’s eyes lock onto my lips.

He leans across and presses his lips to the juncture of my neck, where it meets my shoulder.

“Do you have any allergies?” I ask, breaking his stare.

“Just to dog fur. No foods. Do you?”

“No,” I say looking down at the prawns.

The waiting staff begin to layer vegetables and slices, thin slices of beef next to our plates.

I look at the raw red meat. Liam looks at me.

“You are not a vegetarian, are you?”

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