“Graf, sorry, man, is she with you?” the bald guy stammers, his sleazy smirk instantly replaced by a pleading, wide-eyed look straight out of a cartoon cat begging for mercy.
“She’s with me!” the stranger declares without a hint of hesitation, releasing the guy’s hand.
“Sorry, we didn’t know!” Both of them vanish in a flash. My so-called savior takes the bald guy’s spot, and the scent of his cologne hits me like a tidal wave. Though, honestly, can you knock over something that’s already been knocked flat?
I lock eyes with him, biting my lower lip as I hold his gaze. Oh, before that fateful moment earlier tonight, I wouldn’t have dared even sneak a glance at a man like him! Too… dangerous, too risky, too… reckless!
“Looking for trouble?” he asks in a low, gravelly voice, glancing with mild curiosity at the ice in my glass.
“Can you make that happen?” I shoot back, feeling something strange stir inside me under the weight of his stare. It’s like peering into an abyss—and it’s slowly pulling me in. My head spins as if I’m on a Ferris wheel, my thoughts tangle, and my heart feels like it’s not just racing out of my chest but bursting right through my robe. Truth be told, it started pounding the moment I first spotted him from across the room.
“I could call your buddies back over,” he murmurs with a smirk, waving to the bartender. Within seconds, he’s holding a cup of pitch-black coffee. He raises it in a mock toast, his eyes still studying me intently.
“They’re not my buddies,” I reply, mimicking his gesture to signal the bartender. But before I can, my hand is caught in the vise-like grip of his… well, bear paw of a hand. “You’ve had enough,” he states, leaving no room for argument.
“I’m just getting started!” I protest, trying to pull my hand free, but it’s no use.
“No, darling, you’re done,” he says, his voice low and quiet but so commanding, so… electrifying, that all my rebellious bravado melts away in an instant. Though, was it ever really mine? I’m about as much of a rebel as a house cat is a leopard.
“Thanks for the help!” I say abruptly, standing up. “I’ve gotta go! Bye-bye!” I wave at him and blow a playful air kiss, barely containing my laughter at the stunned look on his face.
I’m just a few steps from the sweet escape of the exit, past the poor security guard whose shoelaces are mysteriously untied again, when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder. Now, I’m moving wherever that hand guides me.
“Graf,” the guard nods respectfully, opening the door for us while pretending my bathrobe is just another trendy outfit in this over-the-top snake pit of a club, nothing odd about it at all.
The cool night air hits me instantly, sobering my still-damp hair. Of course, I’d just stepped out of the shower, thrown on this robe, and ended up… here. A sharp, vivid memory floods back, and tears well up in my eyes before I can stop them. My vision blurs, and I stop walking, lowering my head as I try to pull myself together.
“You okay?” my handsome rescuer’s deep voice rumbles with concern. I’d almost forgotten he was still here!
“I’m fine!” I mutter, though the alcohol is wearing off, taking my rebellious streak and fighting spirit with it. Now, all I want is to hide somewhere far from the world and finally process what I saw the way I should have—instead of storming into this damn bar!
“Drink,” my rescuer says, handing me a glass bottle of mineral water that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“I’m good!”
“You need it. It’ll only get worse if you don’t.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No, it’s a fact. I’m just assessing your condition,” he replies. Wow, he sure knows how to talk. And here I thought he looked like nothing but trouble—a real rough-around-the-edges type!