The Boss's Slút Games (3)
[Vincent’s Pov ]
“Let’s make this civil, Zara,” I said, pouring two generous shots of vodka at the bar. “Care for a drink?”
She stood at the doorway of the Lion’s Den suite with her arms crossed and her eyes sharp. The slít in her crimson dress revealed just enough thigh to make a man forget his own name. She hesitated, then stepped inside, her heels striking the marble.
“What do you want, Vincent?” Her voice was calm, but there was a thread of tension running through it. Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap me or kiss me.
I slid one glass across the bar to her. “To have a conversation. No drama. Just you, me, and a bit of honesty.”
She took the drink, her fingers brushing mine. They were trembling, just barely. That told me more than words ever could.
