“A knife? Are you flirting with me?”
The man didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t step back. He smiled, slow and deliberate, as if the blade pressed to his throat were a compliment he hadn’t heard in years.
The alley smelled like rain and rust, and her patience was already thin. “Don’t move.”
He didn’t.
Up close, His eyes were dark, unreadable, yet she had the unsettling feeling they were reading her instead. Like he’d already flipped through her thoughts and found them entertaining.
“You should put that down,” he said gently. “You don’t need it.”
“I always need it,” she said. “Men tend to forget how to listen.”
That smile again. Amused. Interested.
Aria had come out back for air. The charity gala inside was loud with money and ego, and she had enough of both for one night. Then all of a sudden, she felt someone behind her . Not footsteps. Presence.
He glanced at the knife, then back at her fuming eyes. “You’re not going to use it.”
Something in her chest sparked. Anger, sharp and sudden. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you,” he said, and for the first time his voice carried weight. “You pretend to enjoy chaos. You keep men at arm’s length because you don’t like how easily they disappoint you. And you’re bored right now.”
She swallowed..
“Lucky guess,” she said, though my pulse betrayed me.
He leaned forward a fraction of an inch. The blade kissed skin. No blood. Not even a flinch.
“You came out here because you felt watched,” he continued. “Because somewhere deep down, you wanted to be found.”
“Who are you?” Aria asked still with a raised knife. Usually she would move with martial arts skills but, tonight, it failed her.
And for a moment, something ancient flickered behind his eyes..
“Someone who has been waiting a very long time to meet you ,” he said his eyes flashing.