What I did care about was the fact he’d made an accurate statement.
He was obviously an extremely dangerous man.
CHAPTER 3
Sinclair
I’d awakened several minutes before my alarm had gone off, staring at the blankness of the ceiling in the early morning light. The quietness of the garden district neighborhood was a peaceful delineation from the festive atmosphere of the French Quarter where I spent much of my time.
Instead of feeling relaxed or even invigorated after a good night’s sleep, I’d longed for domination.
Not of the world.
Or even New Orleans.
Hell, no, it had nothing to do with the piece of trash I’d put on ice for the night.
Something much more exciting.
The woman.
Correction. The beautiful copper-haired beauty who hated my guts. Did she have a legitimate reason to? Yes, but that didn’t mean her highly agitated behavior hadn’t both annoyed and aroused me.
The latter took precedence overnight. Visions of her face and voluptuous body had kept me awake. Even her goddamn freckles, which I’d never found attractive before. On her they were a beacon of extreme lust, a pull toward acts of sin and shame.
Even now as I attempted to pull myself together, my thoughts continued to drift from the day’s necessary business to wondering what she’d taste like.
Her soft lips.
Her creamy skin.
Her sweet pussy.
How unlike me. I prided myself for being a man of discipline, even when it came to carnal acts. As a Prince, I could and had had my share of the most beautiful women in the South. From debutantes to daughters of corporate moguls, actresses and models to surgeons and attorneys, I’d enjoyed the silver plate of choices in my thirty-seven years of living on this earth.
That hadn’t meant any of them had satisfied anything other than my physical needs. Yes, some had been highly intelligent as well as charismatic company, but after one night, I’d grown bored.
And none of them had I longed to keep. Not for a single night.
I’d also never taken a single woman to the kind of club we managed above the shops and night club of Indulgence, alucrative portion of the family’s billion-dollar business housed within a fashionable block on Bourbon Street.
The reason why?
That was easy. Sheer boredom.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed spending time with highly intelligent, sophisticated women. I had. Sadly, most had their sights set on a long-term relationship, even marriage. Nothing I wanted.
My father would remind me it was my duty to procreate, helping bring a new crop of little Princes into the world. Even before his death, I’d come to realize and accept that I had no business putting a wife in danger or bringing a kid into the world of violence. So why was I suddenly questioning my playboy ways?
A laugh pushed to the surface. Maybe my conscience was flickering on and off much like my libido.
Shit. I needed to get the woman and her sensual curves off my mind. Even if I knew her name or anything about her, after running into her dog, flirtation would only earn me another hard punch to my jaw. No, I sucked at flirting.
However filthy my thoughts were, I reminded myself that she’d heard sounds coming from my guest. I’d seen the reaction on her face. She’d been curious yet I’d sensed the moment she’d recognized both the location and a plausible reason for the sound.
The motherfucker would suffer for trying to draw attention.
My brother, the Don of the family would remind me that the last thing we needed was anyone chatting with the police about a possible abduction. While I’d had my cleaning crew sweepthe trunk for fibers and do a quick clean for spots of blood, I certainly hadn’t taken the usual amount of time.
