Page 3 of Café Diablo

Her other hand swings up from her hip and covers my hand—the one she’s still shaking me with—her original grip tightening. And before I can react, metal is slipping over my wrist with a swift cranking sound. I look down as—

She snaps a handcuff on me!

“What the—!”

Only, she lets go of my hand and lifts hers to show me that she’s attached the other side of the handcuff to her own wrist—mine now dangling from hers.

She’s just handcuffed us together!

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snap, and she just laughs, that regal after-hours power woman shaking off of her like a fake skin.

“Take this off me right now!” I bark, yanking on the cuff, but she only clenches her hand into a fist and lets me struggle.

“Sorry,” she practically sing-songs. “But Connor’s orders.”

“Excuse me?!” I stop struggling and glare at her. “What did you just say?”

She tilts her head to the side and lets all that sexy black hair slide off of her narrow shoulders. If I wasn’t so pissed off, it’d be hot.

“That’s right,” she nods. “I’m here on behalf of thefucking assholeyou expected to be behind this door,” she says with a wicked smile. “I work at Flambé, and it’s my job this evening to escort you to the premises. Connor warned me that you wouldn’t come willingly.”

“Connor—!” I wring my hand into a fist, pulling it toward my mouth to bite my knuckles in frustration, only that actually yanks the woman closer to me. She stumbles forward, slapping her hand against my chest.

“Mmmmmmm.” Her eyes flash up to me like this is a game. “Kinky!”

“Take these off. Now!” I snarl. “Give me the key!”

She shakes her head, producing a small silver object from somewhere I don’t see, holding it up in front of me like a shiny carrot. I lunge for the key, but she’s fast, and suddenly my hands are sliding all over her hips and ass which only makes her laugh with amusement.

“Wow,” she bellows. “We just met, Mr. Voss. Usually, I’d prefer you to buy me a cocktail before we get to the hot-n-heavy groping part!”

I pull back, frustrated, because thatwascompletely inappropriate, but handcuffing me to her is also against the law!

“Unwillingwas an understatement!” she howls, seemingly unfazed by the fact that I pretty much just manhandled her backside.

“I’m sorry,” I growl. “That was—I didn’t mean to—” I lower my head, frustrated. “Could I please have the key?”

She shakes her head, lifting the key up between her pinched fingers. And to my chagrin, she dips it salaciously between her cleavage to hide it somewhere in her bra.

“Seriously?” I frown, my neck heating, and she shrugs.

“For safe keeping.” Her eyes sparkle, as if she’d love to see me wrestle her for it now. Who the hell is this woman?!

“I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was again?” I snap, and she tosses her hair to the side.

“Olivia,” she says dryly, like I should’ve remembered it. “I work at Flambé with your brother,” she says, repeating herself from before. “He said you had a major donkey’s nut up your ass, and boy, he wasn’t kidding.” She looks me over like I’m the president of the We Kill Puppies Society. “Now can we go? We’re going to be late.”

“And if I refuse?” I ask sharply. “I am bigger than you.”

“Mmmmmm,” she moans hotly, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip like that was a big turn on. “Yeah, I bet you are.”

Jesus! Yes, she’s being a bitch about it, but that moan is also making my pants tight in a way that’s completely unfair. Damn, Connor! He knows I’m a complete dunce with women and that’s exactly why he sent her.

“Well, big boy,” she continues to mock. “I guess that means small, lil’ ol’ me is going to be stuck handcuffed to you all night, while you…work!” She says that last word all breathy and obnoxious, but then her eyes flash up to me and the whole charade drops. “It’s a fucking birthday party, Edwin! What’s your problem?”

“Ned,” I correct. “No one calls me Edwin.”

“Ned is a shitty nickname,” she tosses back. “It’s the kind of nickname you give self-righteous assholes who get their heads chopped off at the end of season one.”

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