If by “okay” you mean practically foaming at the mouth over the only man in this building who makes my thighs clench without even trying, then yeah. I’m fucking thriving.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, blinking back the heat crawling up my neck. “Fine. Um, dinner… I mean, you don’t need to go to the trouble of all that. I feel ready to start the work.”
“It’s no trouble spending an evening with a beautiful woman like yourself.” He laughs, clearly deluded enough to think he’s being charming, but the line is so dry it could literally sandpaper a clit off.
Oh fuck me, he just winked.
My vagina folds its arms right then because she’s out.
I’ve got the ick hard, and there’s no recovering.
“Listen, I think we’re going to work well together, and I like to get to know the people I work with on a deeper level.”
My phone vibrates in my lap once again.
PHOENIX: If you wanted my attention, baby, you’ve got it. Now shut it the fuck down. This is your last warning.
I glance up from my lap and force a smile at James.
“Dinner sounds great.”
Because what the hell else am I supposed to say? No? I want this contract, but more than anything, I want control of this situation—even if it means biting my tongue and pretending James doesn’t make my skin crawl a little.
I hear the scrape of a chair behind me and catch Phoenix in my periphery, rising from the bar like a storm unfurling, moving with that coiled violence that sets every alarm in my body ringing. I shouldn’t feel guilty for being here. I shouldn’t. I’m not his, but some warped, ruined part of me still feels like I am.
But I want this deal, and sometimes getting what I want means putting on a pretty smile and keeping the client happy.
Seconds later, James’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it from his jacket pocket, glances at the screen, and his expression shifts.
“I apologize, but I have to take this.”
“No problem.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he calls over his shoulder as he strides off, completely oblivious to the shadow heading toward me from across the room.
Phoenix plants himself beside me, one hand braced on the table, the other gripping the back of the seat, his chest rising like he’s seconds from snapping. Every inch of him burns with anger, his whole body turned toward me in this cramped booth we’re trapped in.
Silence stretches between us as gunmetal eyes pin me in place, dragging heat down my spine. His scent invades my senses. I have no idea what it is. It's just him. Raw, masculine, and dangerous.
“I’m guessing you don’t have long to make whatever point you need to make, so could we just get on with it before you leave again?” I say, taking a sip of champagne. On the outside, I’m unbothered, but inside, I’m a fucking mess. “Unless you have noidea what the hell you’re doing, which wouldn’t surprise me since hiding from me is the only thing you’ve ever been good at.”
I feel him go rigid beside me, and for a moment, I want to shove the words back into my mouth.
“I hid for you.”
His words are simple, but the sacrifice behind them isn't.
He built a prison and locked himself inside it, but Phoenix was never meant to be caged.
I push away from the booth, ready to slide out, but he moves faster. His hand wraps around my waist and yanks me back so his chest is pressed against my spine,his palm flattening across my stomach.
“Get off me,” I grind out through clenched teeth.
“I asked you to use your fucking brain, and if you can’t do that, then at least trust your instincts. He’s no good for you. You know that.”
“Would anyone be good for me?” I bite back just as his hand slides lower—past the hem of my skirt—until his fingers press against the thin silk of my panties.
“You already know the answer to that.”
