Page 5 of The Betrayer
I winked, and she flushed again, her gaze dropping to the bar top for a moment—it was adorable.
“Well, you’re good at what you do.”
The bartender crouched and pulled a tiny hotel pan of lemons from the fridge under the counter. She took one out and started sawing at it with a half-dull knife.
“Thanks. It’s getting me through school, anyway.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“Manhattan University. This is my last year, and then I can get out of here.” The young woman’s gaze swept the dim surroundings and the older patrons, their low conversations an ever-present hum. Her nose wrinkled slightly, though I didn’t think she was aware of it.
“For?” I took a slow sip of my whiskey. It was almost gone again, but I wanted to stretch my time for multiple reasons.
“Psychology.”
“Ah.”
She finished one lemon, placed the slices in a second small hotel pan, and started on another.
“And what do you want to do with your degree when you’re finished?”
A shrug was my answer, then, “I’m not sure. I’m trying to figure that out.”
“Well, I’m sure with your sharp mind, you’ll be able to.”
Her gaze flicked up to me, slight surprise echoing in their green depths. Then that same small, pleased smile pulled at her mouth again.
“Would your sharp mind be interested in attending a party with me tonight?”
The young woman stilled again, and I wondered if I’d gone too far or hadn’t primed the energy between us enough.
“It’s nothing big. Just something my company is throwing to celebrate how well it’s done this year.”
The gaze slipped up to my face. “You own a company?”
I nodded. “I’m also the CEO.”
More interest echoed in her expression, but then she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m working until eleven tonight.”
I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out several large bills and an old receipt. Then I pointed wordlessly to the pen I could see just behind the bar. She slipped it to me, eyebrows drawn in with puzzlement.
She watched as I wrote my name and number down, then slipped the receipt and the large bills over the shiny surface of the bar top to her.
“This is for the drinks and keep the change. This”—I held up the receipt between two fingers—“is if you change your mind and end up getting off early for the night.”
I winked, put my glass down, and left without looking back. But I could feel her gaze on me as I left, and I smiled to myself. I knew she was going to call. I just needed to get home and change.
If she didn’t, there would be an auction tonight. With any luck, some other beautiful woman would buy me for a night out—preferably tonight.
