The Man my Daughter Loves

The Calm before the Storm

I waved a hand, already tired of the interaction. "Go. Have fun."

Zara's face lit up. "Don't wait up!" she called, already being tugged toward the dance floor - and just like that, I was left alone with him.

Lucky me.

"Your friend's got good taste," he said, sliding into the seat Zara had vacated without waiting for an invitation.

His eyes dragged over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "But I think I got the better deal."

It always triggered a particular kind of irritation when people assumed Zara and I were just friends - never sisters - simply because her skin was light and mine was dark.

"Shame. I can't say the same." He grinned, undeterred.

"Come on, don't be like that. A woman like you - sophisticated, sexy - you shouldn't be standing here alone." "I'm not alone." I flicked my eyes toward the dance floor. "My sister's here." "Not what I meant." His hand brushed against my bare arm - an entirely unwelcome touch.

"Let me buy you a drink. Or better yet, let's skip the formalities and get out of here."

I finally looked at him - really looked at him - and arched a brow.

"I already have a drink." "That's not what I meant either." His smile was all teeth, and his eyes dipped to my neckline, dark and bold. "But I could show you a good time if you let me."

"I'm not interested."

My voice was cool and sharp - a warning anyone with common sense would take. But I guess common sense isn't really so common. Not in this case anyway.

"Oh, I don't know about that." His voice dropped lower, like he thought this was seductive. It wasn't. I was a hair's width away from swinging my glass at him.

"I can be... very generous. And I have a feeling a woman like you appreciates the finer things. I could give you a taste of luxury you've never-" "You most definitely couldn't," I cut in, my lips curling in distaste. "Even if you sold a kidney." I let my eyes flick over him, unimpressed.

"Whatever you think you have, it wouldn't impress me. And neither do you."

The smile slipped - for a second. Then it was back, oily and persistent. "Feisty," he murmured, like this was a game. "I like that."

Men!

I rolled my eyes and shifted away, but his hand landed on my waist before I could move far. His grip tightened - not painfully, but enough that I stilled.

My patience snapped. "Get your hands off me."

But before he could respond, his hand disappeared - and so did he. One second he was beside me, the next, two men in black materialized from nowhere.

They each gripped an arm and hauled him backward like he weighed nothing. "What the-hey! Let go of me-!" he sputtered, but their expressions didn't flicker.

They dragged him away without ceremony, his protests cut off by a low, warning murmur I couldn't quite hear over the music. And just like that, he was gone.

I blinked, stunned - but before I could fully process what had just happened, a throat cleared softly behind me. I turned - and the breath I didn't know I was holding caught in my throat.

He stood there, relaxed and entirely composed, like he owned the room. And maybe he did.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. The collar of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at skin, sleeves pushed up to reveal the dark ink stretching down his forearms.

His face was... striking. Strong, defined features, dark onyx curls cropped low - and eyes so deep and dark they felt like they saw straight through you.

But it was his presence that hit hardest. The sheer weight of it. That calm, unshakable confidence only certain men carried - the kind who didn't need to announce their power because everyone already knew.

"Some men," he said, his voice smooth and low, "don't understand the meaning of the word no."

It wasn't a question. He watched me with that unnerving stillness - like a predator who never needed to chase because his prey always came to him.

Even in a room full of wealth and arrogance, he made everyone else seem... irrelevant.

I raised a brow, keeping my voice cool. "And you do?" He smiled - slow, dangerous, and completely self-assured. "When it's said like that? Loud and clear."

My eyes flicked toward the spot where the other man had been. "You didn't have to do that." "Didn't I?" His head tilted slightly, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that felt far too knowing - and yet, somehow, not crude. "He touched you without your permission." "That doesn't make it your business." His smile didn't waver. "It does when it happens in my club."

Oh.

He wasn't just some wealthy man with good looks and menacingly efficient security. He owned this place.

"Ah," I said lightly. "The king of the castle."

He let out a low, amused hum. "Bingo." I didn't miss the way the bartender glanced over, tense and watchful - like the entire staff knew exactly who was standing beside me.

"Should I thank you, then?" I asked, my tone carefully polite. "Only if you want to." His eyes dipped briefly to my glass. "But I'd settle for you letting me buy your next drink."

I considered him for a beat, then set my empty glass down with a soft clink.

"I'm perfectly capable of buying my own drinks." That smile deepened - and there was something about it that was almost... amused. Like my resistance entertained him.

"I never doubted that," he said, signaling the bartender with a flick of his fingers. "But humor me."

The bartender moved faster than I'd seen anyone at this bar move all night.

"And what exactly am I humoring you for?" I asked, a smirk forming on my face. "Curiosity," he said simply.

"I like to know the names of beautiful women who walk into my club and put men like that in their place."

The way he said it - calm and casual, with the faintest edge of something sharper - sent an unexpected thrill through me.

"My name isn't important," I said.

"Disagree," he murmured. "But if you won't give me yours, I suppose I'll have to settle for calling you... doctor."

My pulse jumped. How did he -?

"How did you know? Do you also make it your business to know the career of everyone who enters your club?"

He chuckled. "For you, maybe. But no, I overheard your sister, I believe, saying something about you 'cutting people open' "

I grinned. The drink appeared in front of me - something clear and refined, nothing like the bright, fruity concoction Zara had pushed on me earlier. I lifted it, taking a slow sip without breaking his gaze.

"And what makes me worth knowing?" I asked.

He smiled, dark eyes glinting. "I'm still figuring that out."

He said so like he was confident he would figure it out, and that I wouldn't stop him.

I set the glass down as the effects of the alcohol began to hit. Warmth bloomed inside me as my head buzzed. "Then you'll be disappointed." I managed to say.

" I'm never disappointed."

I tilted my head, letting my eyes drag over him. "You sound awfully sure of yourself." His gaze didn't waver. "I usually am."

He talked like the world bent to his will and never the other way around. I couldn't think of anything hotter.

"That kind of confidence," I murmured, "is the kind that usually comes before a fall." His eyes dipped - slowly - taking their time over the curve of my mouth, the line of my throat, down my body and back up.

"Then maybe you shouldn't look at me like that."

"Like what?" "Like you want me to catch you."

I arched a brow.

"You think I'm falling for you?" He leaned in, close enough that I caught the scent of him - something dark and expensive and entirely too distracting. "No," he murmured, voice low and smooth. "But I think you want to."

The air grew heavier. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at me - like he was already imagining exactly how I'd fall.

"And what exactly makes you think you know what I want?" He smiled, the kind of smile that made my stomach tighten and my pulse race. "Because you haven't walked away yet."

The worst part? He wasn't wrong. I picked up my glass again, taking a slow sip, but the warmth pooling low in my stomach had nothing to do with the alcohol.

"Presumptuous" "Only when I'm right."

Maybe he was a little too close to me, maybe he shouldn't have been looking at me the way he was, and maybe I shouldn't have been here entertaining and flirting back at him.

But somehow, this man lit something in me that felt too good to quench.

Something I wasn't sure I had ever felt before.

"What else do you think you're right about?" His eyes darkened. "That if I touched you, you wouldn't stop me." My own body betrayed me then. Heat curled low and tight in my core. "Bold claim," I said, my voice quieter now.

"Am I wrong?"

I didn't answer.

The silence between us stretched - charged and suffocating - and when I finally set my empty glass down, my hand wasn't entirely steady

Whether because of the alcohol or how thick the air felt with this man, I don't know

"Is that your way of saying you plan on keeping me here all night?"

"I was hoping for somewhere quieter, not crowded, not noisy..." The way he said it - low and sure and devastatingly patient - made my stomach flip.

He leaned in, his voice a low murmur, warm and delicious against my ear.

"Say yes," he urged, his fingers trailing against my wrist - light, teasing, dangerous. "And I promise... you won't regret it.