I peer behind the wasted man to find Kellin.
The sharp, icy grin on his face is nothing like the one he wore at the dinner table.
“Where I come from, men who put their hands on women like that without consent get their fingers broken.” I shiver at Kellin’s deceptively calm tone.
Dark.
Dangerous.
A promise, not a threat.
The drunk’s face blanches, and he attempts to liberate himself. “Hey, get offa me?—”
Like he does this every day, Kellin wrenches the man’s arm behind his back, earning a hiss of pain. “If you ever come back here, you’ll regret it. Understand?”
Before I can blink, Kellin frog-marches him toward the exit. They pass a wide-eyed Phoebe at the host stand. Her hand flutters around her throat as she watches them go by.
The adrenaline pulsing through me fades all at once, and I slump, gripping a barstool to keep myself upright.
Kellin—the financial wiz, the model lookalike, the man who was giving me bedroom eyes over wine and steak—just physically removed a man from my restaurant.
I glimpse down at the red scratches blooming on my arm, and a chill ghosts my skin.
Kellin isn’t the one who left these marks, but still…
I snap out of my thoughts to the clamor of slow applause picking up from around the room.
Shaking off the strange reality of Kellin being such a badass, I address the guests, pinning a smile on my face. “I’m so sorry for that unpleasant surprise. Please, everyone return to your dinners. Your meals are on the house tonight.” I really can’t afford to comp so many tables, but I will not allow the hotel’s reputation to suffer because of one bombed asshole.
I head over to Phoebe, helping her direct loitering guests back to the bar with the promise of complimentary booze.
When I’m alone with her, I sigh. “Let Segun know what happened as soon as you see him. I’ll make sure that man is banned from the property, so he shouldn’t be a problem again.”
“Sure thing.” Her eyes flick over me, then shift to the glass doors where Kellin and the drunk disappeared. “That was quite the scene, wasn’t it?” She fans herself. “Whew. Who knew your date was such a beast?”
“He’s not my date.” My stomach clenches as Kellin rounds the corner from the elevators. He heads for the restaurant while adjusting his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.
I’ve been around stupid male bravado and posturing my entire life. Being the only woman in the house after my mom died, I got used to the testosterone. The pissing contests. The bluster for bluster’s sake.
I’ve always hated the ridiculous arrogance of men, as well as the violence.
But I have to admit, at least to myself, that the way Kellin came to my defense and took complete control without batting an eye?
That was hot.
The little ember that planted itself in my chest after we met earlier ignites to a full flame, warming me from the inside out as Kellin stops in front of me.
“Sorry about that. Are you all right?” He captures my hand and tugs it closer while inspecting my arm. When he notes the thin red welts rising on my skin, his eyes darken, a shadow of anger flashing across his face.
The expression, though fleeting, prickles the back of my neck.
Subtly, I try to reclaim my arm. “I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches.”
His thumb brushes the pulse in my wrist with a gentleness that belies the seething tension in his body.
Sparks sizzle from the contact, up my arm, through my chest, around that flame, and straight to my stomach, where they explode into a roaring wildfire that sweeps through my blood.
I pull away, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress. If I don’t keep my hands busy, I’ll reach for him.
