Velvet Devil

Chapter 2 Episode 2

As he sits back down, I try and look at him objectively without the prism of disinterest tainting myperception.

Maybe Bree is right and I’m being too harsh. He’s not a bad-looking guy. Sure, his three-day beard ismore “gamer who forgot to shower” than it is “GQ cover model.”

And sure, he talks about himself a lot and starts way too many sentences with “In my industry…”

But he’s nice enough, I guess.

So why does a night spent with Reggie pale in comparison to a single glance from the man in theexpensive suit?

One of them makes my skin crawl.

The other sets my skin on fire.

“In part,” I reply eventually. “Just wanted to let Brianna know I’d be home soon.”

His eyebrows rise. “Not too soon.”

“The night’s not over. I have something else planned for us. My friend’s playing a gig at a bar downthe street, so I told him we’d stop in.”

I swallow my annoyance. “You didn’t tell me, though.”

“I’m telling you now. It’ll be fun.”

I hate being cornered into things. “Reggie, tonight’s not good.”

“Do you have other plans?” he asks bluntly.

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“Look, Reggie,” I say, starting to panic a little, “you’re a nice guy, and I really appreciate the invite tohang. But like I said, I’ve gotta get home, so I think I’m gonna just head—”

I’m standing as I say this, but before I can even get all the way upright, Reggie’s hand shoots out andsnares my wrist, hard.

His face is purpling with anger. “Don’t be a b***h. I invited you out, and I’m a cool guy, so you reallyneed to just stop being so difficult and come where I tell you to—”

This time, it’s Reggie’s voice that dies suddenly.

Because another hand has joined the fray.

A very big, very strong, very unfamiliar hand.

It latches onto Reggie’s wrist and peels his fingers off of me one by one with terrifying strength.

A voice accompanies it, deep and chilling.

I turn to see who spoke, freezing instantly. The handsome man from across the restaurant is no longerat his booth.

No, he’s standing right in front of my table, looking at me as though he knows me.

“Uh…” I sink into my seat.

His face is a dark, impassive mask. But those eyes are full of—well, something. Black ice? Ragingfire? Midnight shadow? I’m being melodramatic, but he has the kind of stare that makes me feel alittle untethered from reality.

My mouth is fumbling to form words, as if the English language is a brand-new thing for me. There’sa weird buzzing in my ears, too. Like the alarm system of my body is going off on DEFCON 1.

I was right about one thing: the man is tall. And he’s even hotter up close. His vivid blue eyes set astark contrast to his dark, effortlessly tousled hair. That jawline could cut glass.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Reggie interrupts.

The handsome stranger doesn’t take his eyes off mine for a single second. “Cami and I are childhoodfriends,” he explains. “We go a long way back.”

Reggie frowns suspiciously. “Seriously? You don’t look like you’re from the Midwest.”

He whirls to face Reggie. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He’s not even talking to me and yet I recoil in fear. Reggie, by contrast, looks like he just s**t hispants. His eyes bulge out of their sockets and he leans back as far as he can go, given that his hand isstill in the man’s grasp. Anything to get farther away from the fire-breathing titan who’s crash-landedon our date.

“N-no,” Reggie stammers, “I’m just saying, that, like, uh—”

“Good,” the man cuts in brusquely. “I don’t like being called a liar.”

“Right. Uh, yeah. Of course not. No, that’s not what I was saying. I was only asking Camila if—”

“I heard what you asked her. And I heard what she told you. What part of ‘no’ was difficult tounderstand?”

This time, Reggie can’t even muster up a stutter.

The man steps aside and points towards the exit. “Get the f**k out of here.” His voice is a whip.Every time he speaks, that heat goes racing through me again, popping off like firecrackers in mythighs.

Reggie looks shaky. “I, uh, guess I better be going then…?” he mumbles, not even daring to meet myeyes.

I nod. “Thanks so much for tonight. It was good to get out of the house.”

He turns to leave, then pivots back like he wants to say something. Then turns to leave again. Helooks like he’s walking the plank off a pirate ship as he shuffles towards the exit.

The bell over the door chimes. Like one chapter is closing and another one is now beginning.

I’m aware of the stranger still standing next to me. Suddenly, he bends in my direction.

For one wild second, I swear he’s going to kiss me. His cologne rushes over me. Cool and spicy. Ihave to clench my thighs together immediately. If Brianna only knew what I was feeling right now,she’d be ecstatic that her little sister isn’t some unfeeling robot.

Then, instead, he keeps on bending, reaching past me to pick up my fallen napkin from the floor.

“You dropped this,” he murmurs in my ear.

He straightens up. When he sees the fire-hydrant-red blush in my cheeks, I catch the tiniest glimmer ofa smirk in the corner of his mouth. It’s gone as soon as it appeared.

The man in the suit slides gracefully into Reggie’s vacated seat. My stomach does a backflip as hisgaze rakes over me.

It’s so strange—when Reggie glanced at my cleavage, I felt creeped out. But when this man does theexact same thing, I clench up from head to toe like I just stuck a fork in a wall socket.

“He’s gone,” I sigh. “Thank you for that.”

I shuffle my feet under the table, feeling extremely self-conscious. Everything about him screams “sexappeal.” Even the way his lips form the word “pleasure” feels like foreplay.

“Were you eavesdropping on me?” I ask. The silence is too much to bear.

He nods solemnly. “Of course.”

“Because you caught my attention, kiska.”

He nods, his expression growing thoughtful. “That makes two of us.”

After about five seconds of another very pregnant silence, I clear my throat. “Well, thank you againfor rescuing me. But I should, you know, head back now…”

Of course, that exact moment is when the waiter arrives with the drinks Reggie had ordered for us.“Sorry for the delay, ma’am,” she says, setting the drinks down on the table.

“Head back? It would be a shame to waste a good drink,” the man in the suit remarks.

Brianna’s words flash through my head again. You’re not even giving him a chance. When was thelast time you were attracted to any man?

One thing is very obvious: this man does it for me. And she’s right—I’ve spent years hiding fromeveryone with a Y chromosome.

This guy is here. He’s hot. And he’s looking at me like he wants to swallow me whole.

“Okay,” I concede guiltily. “One drink. But first, tell me your name.”

He grins and leans forward. “My name is Isaak,” he says. “Isaak Vorobev.”

“Huh?” She wrinkles her nose in confusion. It’s an adorable quirk, and so utterly unfamiliar to me thatI almost laugh out loud.

The women I usually f**k don’t wrinkle their noses. They purr, they smile, they stroke your armseductively. They know their power and how to use it.

This girl? She doesn’t have a f*****g clue.

But maybe that’s why I’m here with her, instead of in bed with any of the other dozens of playthings atmy disposal.

“Tell me your name,” I explain. “I heard ‘Cami.’ I want to know all of it.”

“Oh.” She blushes. Again, f*****g adorable. “Right. Cami. Short for Camila. Camila Ferrara.”

The dress she’s wearing is simple but it hugs her figure deliciously. Her cleavage is subtle, almostteasing. I’d already imagined ripping down the neckline numerous times during my business meeting.The one I bailed on to come over here and rescue her from her i***t date.

“My family and friends call me Cami,” she mumbles.

“Cami it is. After all, we did grow up next to each other.”

She smiles. That’s when I notice the dimple on her right cheek. Such an innocent little kiska, I thinkto myself. Kiska—Russian for kitten. A tiny, helpless little creature begging to be devoured. The namesuits her.

I lean back in my seat and adjust my pants—mostly because my throbbing erection is starting to getdistracting.

“You really didn’t have to do that,” she says. “Save me, I mean.”

“As I said, it was my pleasure.”

She c***s her head to the side. A spray of glossy blonde hair falls across one shoulder. “Do you makea habit of saving every stranger who looks like they’re having a miserable time?”

She blushes and looks down nervously in her lap.

“You must’ve known what you were getting into the second he asked you out,” I chuckle. “Based onthe way he slinked to the exit, I’m surprised he had the balls to ask in the first place.”

“He didn’t ask,” she says. “Not exactly.”

I arch my eyebrow. “Explain.”