Jaxx’s Point Of View
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
Her voice was soft but it carried. Even over the low jazz, even over the hum of money changing hands at the tables and the low murmur of my men stationed nearby, it reached me. The question hung between us, too soft for the noise of the bar and somehow louder than everything else.
My jaw tightened. I felt my teeth grind. I shifted my gaze from hers, a deliberate cut of distance. “Nothing’s going on, Kira.” My voice was flat. Sharp. The kind of voice that made most people stop breathing.
But she didn’t. Or maybe she couldn’t.
I turned, already moving, already putting distance between her perfume and my lungs. Her scent was too sweet, cloying, fake. Not her. Not the one I couldn’t stop thinking about.
Her voice sliced through again
