THE DEVIL AND HIS ASSASSIN

Chapter4

"Anything you want," I whispered, the words tasting like ash and honey on my tongue. They earned me an unexpected smile, a flash of white in the dim light that had my heart racing violently.

He applied the slightest pressure, guiding my legs apart. I couldn’t move. I was frozen, mesmerized by the sheer dominance rolling off him. This wasn’t part of the plan. This… this was something else entirely.

His other hand came up to my hip, his grip firm and possessive. He pulled me forward, until I was standing between his knees.

"You will dance for me," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that was for me alone. "Only for me. And you will not look away."

His thumb stroked higher, skating along the delicate, slick skin of my inner thigh, so close to my core that a tremor wracked my entire body. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped my lips.

He smiled then, a real smile, a predator’s smile. "That is what I wanted to hear."

The words echoed in my head and a fresh wave of heat pooled low in my belly. My plan, my revenge, it all hinged on this. On him wanting me. My lips parted, a retort on my tongue, a deflection; anything to seize back a sliver of power. But nothing came.

A sudden, violent crash shattered the moment.

The sound was like a gunshot in the relative quiet of the VVIP area. A bottle shattering against the bar. A woman’s shrill scream, cut short. Dominic’s head snapped up, his focus ripped from me so completely it was like a physical shove. The possessive heat of his hand vanished from my thigh, leaving the skin there cold and strangely aching.

He shoved me aside with a grunt, not roughly, but with an absent-minded dismissal that was somehow worse. I stumbled back a step, my heels catching on the plush carpet. His entire body had gone rigid, his broad shoulders blocking my view as he rose to his full, imposing height. Those pale grey eyes which had been burning into my soul just seconds before, were now narrowed slits, scanning the chaos below with lethal precision.

This was a welcome distraction for me to figure out how to get the f**k out of this trap. I knew exactly what "dancing" meant in a man’s language. Especially men like Dominic Sokolov—twisted, dangerous and used to getting whatever he wanted.

If he wanted me to "dance" for him, fine. But he had to take me with him first. I had to be the girl he chose. And once I was in his grasp, I’d give him a show he’d never forget… right before I drove a dagger straight through that dark, beautiful heart of his.

I got on my feet and followed his gaze. At the main bar, a man who looked drunk and clearly making the worst mistake of his life was waving a broken bottle at one of the bouncers.

The guard who had summoned me approached him and the drunk i***t turned his aggression toward him, shouting something lost in the music. He didn’t see it coming. The guard's hand shot out, not to grab his wrist, but to clamp onto his throat.

His fingers dug into his flesh and the drunkard's eyes bulged, the broken bottle dropping from his suddenly limp hand as he was lifted, toes scraping the floor before he slammed him down onto the bar with a crack that made me wince. He didn’t move again.

His eyes, dark and furious, swept the room as if daring anyone else to challenge him. For a fraction of a second, they flicked up toward the VVIP booth. Toward me. And then toward Dominic. A silent, furious communication passed between them. An apology. An assurance.

Dominic gave a single nod. The intrusion had been noted, judged, and summarily dismissed. His domain was restored.

And his attention returned to me. The noise of the club died away once more, the world shrinking back down to just us.

He turned, and the look on his face stole the breath from my lungs. The cold scrutiny was gone, replaced by something hotter. Darker. Hungrier.

"Where were we?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in my chest. "I know you're scared about what just happened but it's nothing to be worried about."

Scared? What did he take me for? I'd seen and done worse. A man being efficiently neutralized in a club? That was nothing to me. But he thought I was a stripper. An innocent one who’d jump at her own shadow. So I played the part.

"Come," he called, his voice leaving no room for debate. I found myself moving toward him until I was standing between his knees once more. "Since you seem flustered, we'll make this quick."

Make this quick? What the hell did that mean?

"Get on your knees," he commanded.

"What?" My head snapped up, stomach plunging as the words sank in. Did this bastard really mean...

"You heard me," he deadpanned. His hands shot out, and one palm pressed down on my shoulder while the other guided me by the hip, leaving me no choice but to comply. My knees hit the plush carpet and he smirked. "I’ll be gentle, don't worry."

No. No no no.

This was escalating too fast. I thought we’d go to his place, somewhere secluded where I could plan his end. Not here.

His hands went to his zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the intimate space. He was really going to do it. Right here.

"You look like you’re thinking awfully hard," he drawled, his chuckle low and obscene. "Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for your services. And I tip nicely … especially when a mouth as pretty as yours is put to proper use. So quit thinking and show me if you’re worth the price."

His hand went inside his trousers to pull his limp d**k out, but my hand moved on instinct, my fingers wrapping around his wrist, stopping him.

"What the f**k do you think you're doing?” s**t. I had stopped him. And I was still holding him. I needed to think fast before he decided I was a threat and snapped my neck.

My mind raced, scrambling for something, anything to say that could defuse the situation. I forced my voice to soften, to take on a tone that was meek, submissive, the persona he expected from me.

"I—I’m sorry… I didn’t think you’d actually…" My words trailed off, trembling slightly, as I slowly released my grip on his wrist. My hand hovered in the air for a moment before I let it fall to my side, my shoulders slumping in what I hoped looked like resignation.

"Oh?" His tone was dangerously calm now but terrifying still. His hand moved away from his zipper, and instead, he reached out to cup my chin, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "You didn’t think I’d what, exactly? You danced on that stage like you were begging for this. And now you’re pulling away? What kind of game are you playing?"

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, a gesture that was almost gentle if not for the cold calculation in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "Or are you just playing hard to get? Because if that’s the case, sweetheart, you should know I don’t play games."

Fuck.

Think, Raven, think. I swallowed hard, my mind spinning. I couldn’t give him a reason to doubt me, not now. Not when I was so close. "I’m not playing games," I said softly, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. "I just… I got nervous. You’re… intimidating."

He chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Intimidating?" he echoed, his fingers tightening on my chin. "I thought you were supposed to be the bold one. The girl who climbed onto that stage to get my attention. Where’d all that confidence go, hmm?" His cold eyes scanned my face. "Or maybe you came up here with a hidden motive."

This was it. The pivot point. My make-or-break moment. I let my shoulders sag, let my mouth soften, painting myself in the perfect picture of honesty and defeat. He had to buy it. He had to believe me.

"I had a motive," I whispered, voice trembling just enough to sound real. "But not the one you’re thinking." I let my eyes flick up to his, wide, desperate, like prey begging the predator not to bite too hard. "I stepped onto that stage with a reason. I wanted you to notice me. I heard you sometimes take girls with you." I leaned in slightly, just enough for my words to scrape against the air between us. "Please choose me."

He looked at me for a long, silent moment, his expression utterly unreadable. Then, a dismissive flicker in his eyes. "That's bold of you. But no. You're not exactly the kind of girl I'd choose."

Ouch.

"Why not?" The question was out before I could stop it.

He looked at me like I was an insect he was considering crushing. "Get out."

"But—"

"One more word and I'll put a f*****g bullet in your skull," he warned.

This wasn't happening. My only chance was slipping through my fingers.

My mind raced, scrambling over the cliff edge of reason. There was only one card left to play. A dangerous and irreversible one.

"I can give you what other girls here cannot give you," I said, finally.

He stilled. Slowly, he turned back to face me like a predator intrigued by a new sound. "And what exactly is that?"

I took a sharp, steadying breath, locking my knees so they wouldn't buckle. I met his gaze, letting him see the calculated offer in my eyes. "I've never been touched by another man." My voice was barely a whisper now. "You'll be the first if you take me."