“Mel?” I called after her, completely at a loss as to what was going on in her head.
“Wait here,” she muttered over her shoulder before making a beeline for the bar.
What the hell was she doing?
I watched in astonishment as she marched up to the billionaire like she had a bone to pick. The smirk he wore shifted to something a little more polite or formal when his attention moved to Melanie.
“Wait here?”Who was this person? Melanie never approached guys, especially rich bachelors. And what alien universe had I fallen into where she didn’t want me as her wing woman?
I waited at the table for at least five minutes as they talked. I could tell by Mel’s body language that she was hot and bothered about something, and he just appeared amused.
Melanie had told me to stay put, but screw that. This was the weekend, and I wasn’t so good at behaving on the weekends. Besides, my curiosity was eating me alive.
Go to him,Reckless Jess urged. And since it was Friday, I listened to her.
Whatever it was they were talking about, Mel was uncomfortable. She began to retreat from the bar and bumped into me as I approached. She spun, looking simultaneously relieved and irritated that I had left the table.
“Jess!”
“Were you just going to leave me at the table while you keep the bartender all to yourself, Melanie?” While I addressed Mel, I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes off Lucifer Morningstar. I’d been taken with his looks from across the bar but, up close and personal, he was so good looking it was practically hypnotic. His eyes were the color of hot honey and smoldering embers. Their unnaturally bright hue reminded me of those exotic animals you saw in nature documentaries; deadly, venomous creatures who could kill you in one bite. He flashed me a sly grin that had my insides melting.
“Well, hello there, beautiful.”
Holy Hell.
His voice was a deep, velvety baritone that worked its way under my skin and turned my insides to liquid. “What brings a piece of Heaven like you to this sad corner of Hell on Earth?”
“Rumors, mostly,” I said through the ghost of a smirk.
“Ah. Rumors and hearsay. Two of my favorite things. Does wonders for business. Can I get you a drink, Kitten? Let me guess your poison.” He paused as he contemplated, his tongue giving a sensual stroke over his lower lip. Each move he made was seductive and made with purpose. This man was dangerous, the kind of guy a girl could easily overdose on.
And that was exactly my type of guy.
“You’ll take a cosmopolitan,” he said after a few seconds of contemplation. How had he known my favorite drink? There was no way he’d guessed. There were too many drinks to choose from, and no one was that lucky.
His attention briefly skirted to Mel, and he winked at her as if sharing some kind of inside joke. A joke Melanie didn’t find funny in the slightest. She seemed uneasy and pulled at my shirt sleeve.
“Jess, we gotta go.”
“Like hell we do.”
I’m not sure what compelled me to brush her off so easily. I liked to think I was a good friend, and if she was feeling uncomfortable in a bar, I would respect that and take her to a place she felt comfortable. But pinned beneath the gaze of this devil, I wasn’t feeling quite myself.
I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. And by the smug arrogance glittering in his hellfire gaze, he knew it. There was something incredibly sinister about this man, but fuck me, did he wear sin well.
“Lucifer. My name is Lucifer,” he said through a melodic purr. At that exact moment, the pulse of the synth music playing on the club’s speakers stopped, and a new song started; the Rolling Stones “Sympathy for the Devil.”
Now that was a freaky coincidence.
“I know who you are,” I said, leaning against the bar. “I’m J—”
“Jessica,” he finished for me.
I cast Mel a quizzical look. She’d apparently introduced me already because there was no way he could haveguessedmy name.
He set to making me a cosmopolitan, and I watched his every move behind the bar with intent curiosity. Especially when he turned his back to me to lift one of the bottles of vodka from the top shelf, giving me an excellent view of his ass. He moved with such confidence, a swagger in his step like he’d invented walking, and he filled up the backside of his Armani slacks like the brand had been created specifically for that ass.
When he turned back around and began to concoct my drink, I propped my chin in my palm and gave him a flirtatious smile while my gaze banked with mischief. “That’s not how you make a cosmopolitan.”
