Page 138 of Tempting Little Thief

Her glare is instant and too fucking adorable.

My little thief is jealous.

“I will find you later,” she says. “I promise, but this is not the time for a power play.”

My lips press together with irritation, and I cock my head. “Tempting … but no.” I take another step and her jaw tightens. When I speak this time, my voice comes out softer than I expected.

“Dance with me, baby.” I swallow after the last word. What is meant as a demand almost sounds like a fucking plea, but I shouldn’t have to beg my girl to take my hand, yet here we fucking are.

“Fine.” I feel the frown take over before I realize I’m showing it. “One song and I’m out.”

Her eyes narrow a little and she considers me. She doesn’t believe me, that’s for sure. She thinks I’m just looking for a way to get my way, and I am, but I mean what I say. One song and I’m out.

Out of this room, anyway.

Another step, the tips of our shoes now touching. “So, what do you say … you gonna give me what I’m askin’ for?” Myknuckles skate along the backs of hers, and her hand turns, soft fingers tracing over my tattoos.

Slowly, her muscles ease, the left corner of her plump-ass lips lifting the slightest bit, painted a pretty plum-pink color. Her hair is left long and draped to one side, the other part pinned back with a golden clip, jewels matching the shade of the dress her curves are wrapped in.

Come on, baby, take my hand …

Her fingers fold over mine and fuck me if my chest doesn’t rattle with something unnamable. Something—

“Rocklin.”

Her spine shoots straight and she jumps a foot back, both our heads whipping toward the motherfucker who dared.

“Oliver,” she shoots for calm, but there’s a bit of a shake in there, “I’m—”

“Back the fuck up.”

His eyes snap to mine, and the little bitch tries hard to hold on to his tough-boy bravado, but I recognize fear when I see it, and he’s right to be on edge.

But all these men think the same. Just like her dad assumes Enzo Fikile won’t cause problems on the Greyson Estate because of what it stands for, this dude thinks I’ll back down because of where we are. Because of who he is and who I am not.

What sets me apart in all this?

I ain’t got shit to lose, no face to save, no bond at risk of breaking.

I’m a lone wolf in the middle of a dangerous-ass pack, yet I’ve still got no fucks to give, ’cause at the end of the day, what happens here means nothing.

The girl is mine, regardless.

There’s a difference between being taught and being forced to learn, and that’s adaptation. That’s understanding shit changes in the blink of an eye and knowing how to get out of it. You can plan ahead all you like, having a backup plan fromAtoZ, and I bet they do for most situations. But it makes nodifference when influence and money are the keys that unlock the door, giving them what they want, when the guy who has no key can find his way in regardless. Street smarts win every fucking time.

Oliver grins, and it’s too wide. Too fucking sure, sending a prickle of awareness down my spine. “It wasn’t my intention to interrupt … well, to be honest, it was. So why don’t you head back to the other side of the room. We are already gaining attention and you wouldn’t want to find out what happens when Rayo gets curious.”

“I said back the fuck up.”

“Bastian—”

Oliver reaches for her hand, but I catch it, twisting until his back bows, his face scrunching with pain like the weak bitch he is.

“Touch her again and—”

“Bastian, stop!” she hisses.

“—this will end so much worse for you.”

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