Page 16 of Of Desire And Deception

“No problem,” I forced through my teeth while watching the swells of her breasts push above the low v-neck of the vest with every breath. That was some fucking magic to hold them in with only a few buttons.

“So, what can I get you, boss-man?” Wynn turned, leaning her hip against the counter as she waved at the wall of alcohol bottles. “How about a whiskey?”

“No,” I snapped, anger pooling in my chest. It was irrational, but I couldn’t stop it. “Never whiskey.”

“Whoa, boss.” She held her hands up. “Didn’t mean to hit a nerve there. Sounds like there’s a story behind all that anger. Care to share? That’s what bartenders are for, after all.”

My jaw dropped when she leaned her elbows on the bar, and those luscious mounds of flesh were within reach. I couldn’t look away. My fingers tingled with the need to touch, to feel her again. Would her nipples be hardened peaks like that night at the dance club? Or when I’d had her topless in my office? Was I drooling?

I swiped my knuckles across my mouth. Fuck. I had been drooling like all the other men at the bar. The thought of her displaying herself for all the patrons dampened my mood.

“Whiskey was my father’s drink of choice,” I grumbled, shocking myself. I never told anybody about my father. “Always smelled like whiskey and cigars. I don’t drink whiskey.”

“Let’s try something with vodka, then.” Wynn nodded in understanding, but not pity. She grabbed a bottle and started pouring, then set the drink on a square black napkin before me. But she didn’t leave, crossing her arms and tipping her head to the side. “No love lost between father and son, then?”

“No. My father is dead and better off in hell.” The words poured out of me like a severed artery, spewing blood. I found I didn’t want to stop them. Not when Wynn was the listening ear on the receiving end of my secrets. “For his sake, I hope it exists, and he’s burning in eternal torment for the sins he committed while on this earth.”

Wynn’s eyes went wide at my vitriolic speech. I hadn’t even gotten to the best part—that I helped send my father to his final resting place. And I didn’t harbor a single regret about it. When she blanched, I realized I wore a maniacal smile. The fear that flashed in her eyes had me dragging my tongue across my lower lip like I could taste it. The terror I drew from my prisoners usually tasted slightly bitter, but Wynn’s was sweet like candy.

A candy I could quickly become addicted to.

“Okay, then.” She dragged out the words, but I caught how her hands shook before she balled them into fists on the counter. “So, you’ve got daddy issues. Welcome to the club.”

There went my jaw, dropping like the woman in front of me had severed the masseter holding it in place. I shook my head in disbelief.

“I hate to tell you,” she continued, seemingly unaffected, “but you aren’t the only one who had a shit father.”

“Did you?” I asked, suddenly desperate to know something personal about her.

“No, my dad was amazing.” Wynn smiled, her eyes shifting like she was lost in a pleasant memory.

I caught the wording. “Was?”

The smile faded. “He died several years ago.”

“How?” Fuck, that wasn’t something you were supposed to ask, even if it was something I found interesting.

“It doesn’t matter.” Wynn’s face shuttered, telling me she was unwilling to explain anything else. I couldn’t very well chain her to the wall and threaten to remove her fingernails to get more information. That kind of thing was frowned upon.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I recited appropriately. “He must have been a good man to make you smile like that.”

There. A flicker of that happiness I’d driven away with my careless words. “Thank you.”

An awkward silence fell between us, and I tossed back my drink, barely tasting whatever flavoring she’d added to the alcohol. Something citrusy, if I had to guess. When I set the glass down again, she’d run to the other side of the bar to take more orders and convince patrons to buy a second drink. I couldn’t fault her drive. She’d be raking in the tips with her looks and personality. The combination was irresistible.

Perhaps a little too irresistible, given the warmth suffusing my chest. I rubbed at the place that felt just a little more human than it had an hour prior, wondering if it was cause for concern. I could ask Olesya. She was a doctor. I was in the business of taking lives, not preserving them.

When Wynn drew closer, I found myself reticent to leave without speaking to her again. I held my glass up, tipping my head toward it to signal that I wanted a refill. She bopped her way back to where I sat and tugged it from my hand, our fingers brushing and shooting a current all the way up my arm. I released the tumbler immediately, needing to stifle that reaction.

“One more?” she asked with that brilliant smile.

I nodded, unable to think of the word I needed.

Yes. You were supposed to say yes, you idiot.

I sighed and watched Wynn make the drink, then waited until she’d removed her hand before wrapping mine where her fingers had been. Funny how that electricity still found its way into my flesh as I downed the alcohol in two long gulps. I had to get out of there.

Wynn’s eyes lifted to meet mine as I stood and reached into my wallet, tossing down a fifty. Her eyes rounded when she saw the amount. “Oh, I can’t—”

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