Just as I’m about to wave for the bartender, a movement to my right catches my attention. The tall, broad, and dark silhouette that just entered the lounge is hard to miss, so my gaze is drawn to it at once. And when my eyes land on him, my credit card nearly slips from my fingers.
I don’t think anyone quite like this man ever stepped into The Plaza. The way the surrounding chatter slightly dims confirms my suspicions.
Despite everything going on with him, the first thing I notice is how strikingly attractive he is. His angular jaw can cut through granite, and his deep-set, hooded eyes have a laser-like sharpness to them as they scan the room’s occupants. The man’s bone structure is immaculate, his cheekbones high and mighty, with a strong brow that rests under a flat forehead. His nose is also of ideal proportion, narrow and balanced. The bump that sits high on it indicates it was broken at least once, but that, somehow, doesn’t get in the way of his magnetism. His dark hair is neatly cut, short at the bottom, with a flawless fade that leads to longer hair, which is slicked back.
Once I’m done taking in the dazzling features of his face, my inspection lowers, which causes my eyebrows to shoot up. Below that remarkable jawline of his, reddish tattoos creep up from the collar of his black leather jacket. As much as I want to hate it, I can’t deny that it not only heightens his gorgeous features, but also gives him a dangerous and daring aura like I’ve never seen before. I can’t make out the intricate drawings inked on his skin from where I am, and my eyes dart lower on instinct. On his large hands, more inky drawings, all the way to his knuckles.
Who the hell is this man?
When his analysis of the bar’s patrons ventures toward me, I tense on my stool. The tiny hairs on my arms and the back of my neck rise. Then, his intense gaze locks with mine, and my breath catches in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest. The flicker of recognition that sparks in his eyes nearly undoes me.
No.
No, no, no.
This isn’t Ladder Guy.
But he doesn’t continue his search, taking a confident step in my direction instead.
Oh, don’t worry, love. You’ll notice me.Well, his overly confident statement now makes sense. I could hardlynotnotice him. Jesus Christ, everyone in here noticed him. For some reason—probably naivety—I didn’t expect him to have anything other than those piercings I need him for. But now that he’s approaching me, I realize how stupid that was. If he isn’t scared of a giant needle repeatedly stabbing his penis, he’s definitely not worried about one running across his skin to draw tattoos all over it.
Panic slowly sets in, my breath returning in short and irregular pants. What the hell did I get myself into?
I should look away and pretend I have no idea who he is, so maybe he’ll be on his way and ignore me. But my entire body has turned both tense and limp, refusing to bend to my brain’s will.
The closer he gets, the more intimidated I am by his height and build. Even fully dressed, I can guess at the hard-earned muscles that ripple underneath his dark jeans and the black T-shirt under his leather jacket. He seems to be in his early thirties, which is when men peak, according to Hana. The stranger confirms that theory, clearly in his prime.
My mind goes entirely blank once he’s two steps away, close enough to catch the jade green of his irises and the finer details of his stunning face—down to the grain of the stubble that dusts his carved cheeks.
“Hello, Jessica from the dating app,” he says in a low voice that drips with sin. Australian. He has an Australian accent, which comes as an even greater surprise than the tattoos and the rest of him.
“I almost didn’t recognize you without the…” His eyes slowly descend to my chest, where purple satin covers me with modesty. April is too cold a month to wear something low cut, and I wouldn’t have, anyway. “… freckles,” he concludes.
Lie, a voice shouts in my head.Lie and say he’s got the wrong person.My mouth opens, eager to put an end to all this madness, but not a sound comes out of it. Something’s happening to me, and I hate it. His closeness is rendering me completely useless.
His head tilts slightly to the side, a devilish half grin pulling the corner of his lips. “Cat’s got your tongue, love?”
Again, my vocal cords are unable to produce a sound. Not when my attention is on the tattoos that I can now see clearly on his stretched neck. Feathers. The incandescent tips of feathers are what’s creeping out of his collar.
“Hmm…” he continues, his face veiled with amusement. “Too bad. I had plans for that tongue of yours.”
It’s either the crudeness, the image, or the reminder of why he’s here, but that shakes me out of the trance he put me in. This was a mistake, and I must end it before it derails any further.
“You must have me confused with someone else, sir,” I boldly lie, my voice slightly trembling.
His assurance doesn’t even waver at my statement, his eyes still determinedly staring at the details of my face. “Are you sure about that, love? I’d recognize that shade of red anywhere.”
Everything inside me flutters when he sends a hand between us to catch a strand of my hair between his thumb and index.
“Again, sir, I’m not—I’m not Jessica.”
“Let’s make sure, yeah?”
The instant he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, I realize my mistake. I don’t even need to look at his screen to know what his thumb is doing on it. When my phone rings and vibrates on the bar, I close my eyes to recompose myself and avoid his cocky smirk.
Alright, I was caught in a lie, but I can still wriggle out of this mess.
“You’re a naughty liar, Jessica,” he says with nothing but amusement after hanging up.
