Page 46 of Made in Malice

She ignores me. “This seat is reserved for customers.”

I lean over the bar and keep my words pitched low so only she can hear me. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t haul your ass out of here right now.”

“I’m working.” She looks around. “You’re going to get me fired.” She says the last part under her breath.

I love leverage, and she just gave it to me. “What do I get in return, little lamb?”

Her shoulders rise sharply with her intake of air. “What do you want from me?”

I don’t think it’s a direct response to my question. It seems to be much too open-ended for that, as if she can’t understand what I want from her at all, let alone what I want in the moment. If I gave her the real answer, that I want to own her, she would laugh, or maybe she would surprise me and sense the truth of my words, and she would run like hell. “I told you we need to talk.”

“I can’t talk while I’m working, we’re busy.” She’s glancing all around, nodding her head and giving away smiles that these people don’t deserve. The fact that she’s avoiding looking at me and that I don’t have her entire focus almost has me reaching over the bar.

I let my eyes roam down her neck, imagining my fingers wrapped around her throat, forcing her to look only at me. “You’re not giving me an incentive to let you stay, little lamb.” I sound like a spoiled child, but she’s making me feel neglected and shit.

“I’ll meet you when I get off,” she finally concedes, flashing her eyes at me briefly.

“Not good enough.”

“I’ll be right there.” Her light voice filters past me, talking to someone else, and I know it’s fake. I get the real her, raw and full of fight. “If you leave, I promise I will meet you when I get off.”

“I’m not going anywhere, but I like the pleading. It’s a good start. Give me a glass of Gentry.”

“I can’t pour liquor, I’m not old enough.”

“Then you can pour it for me when I take you home.”

“I’ll get it,” she snaps, then leans over the bar, getting all up and personal in my space. Her blue green eyes are finally where they belong—on me. “You have to promise to let me finish work and not to cause trouble first.”

“Are you making demands, little lamb?”

“I’m asking you to be civil.”

I suck in air through my teeth on an exaggerated wince, then answer, “I’ll put as much effort into being civil as you put into taking care of me.”

Her eyes flash with so much heat, I bet she would knock me flat on my ass if she had the chance. She’s probably going to try to make me pay later, and I can’t fucking wait. “Coming right up, pretty boy.” Her smile is as sharp as her tongue, but I don’t care. I have every bit of her attention, and I plan on keeping it.

NOVA

I don’t know how one individual has the capability to piss me off so badly, but Lucian Morningstar knows every button to press. How he always seems to get me at the disadvantage shouldn’t be surprising, since it’s clear he’s used to having a leg up in everything, but it baffles me that I’m so damned unlucky.

“Mickey, sorry to bother you. Can you pour me a Gentry? I can deliver it if that’s okay.”

“He giving you a hard time, Nova?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting him,” I lie seamlessly.

“That’s a Morningstar, right?” He flips a short glass over and reaches for the heavy bottle.

“Uh-huh,” I reply.

“Be careful,” he warns, meeting my eyes.

“I’m trying,” I promise softly, then take the drink to the end of the bar.

“I’m not serving you any more if you’re driving.” I set the glass near his tattooed hands, noticing the thin, delicate cross on his thumb as he wraps his fingers around the glass.

“Anytime you’re ready to stop serving me here and go home is fine with me.”

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