“Just like you can read situations, I can read people.”
"Now I'm intrigued.” The stranger's beautiful eyes gleam with interest. “What do your instincts say about me?"
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why not.”
“Because a girl needs her secrets.”
He smiles, andoh Lord, it is the most devastating smile I have ever seen.
“Come on, you’ve piqued my interest,” he says.
Across the room, Julian glances in our direction, and does a double take when he sees me talking with Henry Cavill 2.0.
“Fine…” I say, turning to face the stranger. I study him. Take in every detail. He's an easy six-four, with broad shoulders and what looks like a muscular body beneath his suit. His dark hair is cut short, probably regularly, although it’s slightly too long and touches the tip of the collar of his crisp black shirt. His cheekbones are sharp, his lips full, and those eyes. God, those eyes. They’re as bright as lightning.
"You take good care of yourself. Your suit fits perfectly on your frame, probably custom made, which suggests you like fine things. It’s snuggish, but not so snug that it screams douchebag.You like the best of the best. So it’s lucky that you’re rich. But you’re not just rich, are you? You’re ridiculously wealthy. But it’s not old money. It’s new money. Earned through hard work and a vision. A tech billionaire, maybe. Or pharmaceuticals, perhaps." I drain my glass of champagne and set it on a passing waiter's tray. "That or you're in the mafia.”
One perfect eyebrow lifts. “What else?”
“You don’t suffer fools, at all, and people are afraid of you, even if they don’t show it.” I lick my lips and his eyes track the movement. “You’re focused and determined. And the slight curve of your lips when you listen to me talk tells me that you are used to getting exactly what you want.”
He smiles. A slow and dangerous smile that makes something unfurl in my chest.
"Interesting theory. You got all of that just from talking to me for two minutes?"
I nod. “Am I right?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why?”
“A guy needs his secrets.” He gives me a wicked grin.
And it makes me chuckle. “Touché.”
“Besides, I want you to find out for yourself.”
“Find out what?’
“If I always get what I want.”
His words burn with a dark promise.
And those eyes… God, the way he’s looking at me. Like he’s going to bend me over and turn me inside out, given the chance.
Which wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?
I mean, I deserve a night of forgetting.
And this guy certainly looks like he could make me forget all my troubles. Not that he'd have much to live up to. Sex with Julian was average at best.
How many times did I have to finish myself off in the bathroom afterward?
I have no doubt this guy would make me come before he did. Probably multiple times.
Hell, this guy looks like he’d fuck me into next Tuesday.
