Viv:
He thinks he’s being subtle.
Leaning against the bar like he’s just there for the whiskey, one boot crossed over the other, arms folded like he’s bored out of his damn mind. But I feel his eyes before I even see him.
They’re like a live wire across my bare skin.
Burning. Branded.
I toss my hair and keep walking, stilettos clicking against the tile as I pass by on the way to Brandi. I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. Not yet. Let him stew a little. Let him wonder if I saw him. Let him chase.
Brandi's leaning on the edge of the bar with a tray, eyes flicking toward him like she already knows what I’m about to say.
“Okay, why is Knox Hardass lurking by the bar like he’s waiting for Jesus or a lap dance?”
“I’m assuming it’s not the former,” I murmur.
She stifles a lau
