Page 32 of Decadence

Although Emmett was big and tough and could handle himself when things got physical—he’d ejected drunk and rowdy patrons from the restaurant on several occasions—he was no Kordolian.

And this was Ikriss.

With lupine grace, he slowly walked forward, past the tables and chairs and the quaint pot plants and the pictures hanging on the walls.

An alien.

It was so surreal. There was an alien in her domain, and he was dressed in perfectly fashionable Earth attire; a thin navy blue sweater over tailored grey trousers. The clothes were well fitted and expensive looking, clinging perfectly to his lean, powerful frame.

Clearly, someone had advised him well.

Weird green eyes captured hers. For a split second—so quickly she almost missed it—his expression grew feverishly intense.

The air bristled with tension.

What the hell are you doing here, Ikriss?

What do you want?

Connor and his boys drew together, forming a small defensive unit, even though they were outnumbered.

Gloved hands slipped into slightly bulging pockets; perhaps finding weapons of some sort.

“Who the fuck is Professor white-hair over here?” Connor growled derisively.

Sienna opened her mouth, her mind swirling as she quickly tried to think of an explanation. “H-he’s my… apprentice,” she snapped. She made a point of glancing down at her Link Band. “Now will you please get out of here? It’s quarter past six, and we aren’t even open for another fifteen minutes. I don’t want you to scare the legitimate customers away. I won’t ask again, Connor. And I’m not interested in your offer.”

One of Ikriss’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly.

Apprentice? He seemed to be asking her a question. She wasn’t sure if she’d just insulted him or amused him.

The Kordolian locked eyes with Connor Ryan of the powerful Ryan clan, a family that owned vast swathes of real-estate in Manhattan and New Jersey.

A family that dealt in violence and illegal things she didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand.

The gulf in power between them was immense.

Connor had no idea.

No fucking idea.

“My boss wants you gone,” he said softly, in perfect English. English? How in the stars does he speak English now?

Sienna thought she sensed a trace of amusement in his voice, as if he were a predator toying with its prey. “Leave.”

My boss?

“Doesn’t look like any apprentice I’ve ever seen.” Connor’s expression hardened as he regarded Ikriss.

“He’s—” Sienna didn’t get a chance to finish, because Ikriss stepped into the gap between her and Connor and his men.

His entire demeanor was… protective.

Amidst the endless stream of traffic, several passersby had stopped to witness the brewing confrontation.

“Leave,” he said again, his tone icy cold. Sienna had never heard him sound like that before. “Unless you want to draw unnecessary attention to your activities here.”

“Are you fucking threatening me?”

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