I hesitated just long enough to make him wait before I slid my hand into his. His palm was warm, his touch igniting a fire beneath my skin. He drew me close, one hand at the small of my back, the other holding mine loosely. The rhythm was lazy, the kind meant for late nights and whispered confessions.
“You’re very sure of yourself,” I said.
“I’ve earned the right to be.”
“Confidence or arrogance?”
“They’re the same currency,” he said, his breath brushing my ear. “Depends how you spend it.”
I laughed quietly, trying not to show how much the sound of his voice affected me. The scent of his cologne was a mix of smoke and citrus, expensive and unapologetic. He moved with the kind of confidence that came from always being the most powerful person in the room and maybe, for tonight, I didn’t mind letting him think he still was.
When the song ended, he didn’t release me right away. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“To my place. It’s quieter.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a man who likes quiet.”
“When the company is right, quiet is too.”
He was testing me, seeing if I’d flinch. I didn’t. Instead, I smiled like I was still deciding.
“And where, exactly, isyour place?”
“The Eclipse Tower,” he answered. “Top floor.”
Of course. The Eclipse was one of Dubai’s newest jewels, a glass monolith overlooking the marina, half hotel, half luxury residences. It was the kind of place where the parking garage smelled like new leather and the concierge spoke six languages.
“Let me guess.” I tapped his shoulder with my index finger. “The penthouse?”
He smiled. “Naturally.”
I pretended to think about it. “You know, I barely know you,” I mused.
“That’s what makes it interesting.”
“Or foolish.”
“Life’s better when you don’t always think about the consequences of which one it is.” He took a step back and extended his hand again. “Come on, Kara-with-a-K.”
For a long heartbeat, I considered saying no, but curiosity won out and I slipped my hand into his.
Outside, the night air was warm, laced with the scent of the sea. A sleek black Bentley waited at the curb, engine humming softly like a satisfied cat. The driver stepped forward, opening the rear door without a word.
Roman guided me into the vehicle. The seats were dark gray leather, the air cool and faintly perfumed. When the door closed, the rest of the world disappeared, and the city’s noise reduced to a distant whisper.
He sat beside me, close enough that the heat of him brushed against my bare arm. The car eased forward, gliding through the glittering veins of the city. Outside, skyscrapers shimmered against the dark water.
He poured two glasses of an amber liquid from a crystal decanter built into the console. “To dangerous company,” he said, offering me one.
I took it, the glass cool in my fingers. “You make that sound like a compliment.”
“It is.”
The Bentley’s engine purred, and the city lights strobed across his face, gold, blue, then shadow again. I watched him for a long moment, the strong line of his jaw, the faint scar near his temple that the dossier hadn’t mentioned. Real things like that never made it into files.
He caught me staring and smiled, more than a little sure of himself. “You still thinking about whether this is a good idea?”
