El diablo…
Maybethat’swhy he said it? Because he saw the devil standing out in the hall, staring at him?
Maybe that’s not even him…
A frown tugs at my lips from beneath my disguise.No, it’sdefinitelyhim. For fifteen years, I’ve been seeing those eyes in my dreams—or my nightmares, depending on who you ask.
Iknowwith full certainty that this is Angel Alvarez standing before me, as a grown man.
That said, it could be a coincidence that he’s here. Highly unlikely, but not completely impossible.Maybe he’s not here to kill me…
Maybe he’s just here to have some good old-fashioned slutty fun.Or… maybe he’s here because he’sdatingthat guy.
My stomach rolls.Ugh, no. I don’t like that.
“I feel bad you didn’t get to come…” Bartender says, sliding sneaky fingers below Angel’s waistline.
I’m literally about to barge in there and snap each one in a different direction when Angel flinches. He actually jumps in surprise, at the sensation of being touched down there, grabbing the bartender’s wrist like a reflex to stop him.
I catch a very brief, yet distinct flash of malaise in Angel’s eyes. A vulnerability I don’t think he expected to feel, let alone be displaying for someone else to see.
He covers it up quick, plastering on a forced grin, distracting the bartender with kisses that make me want to puke.
But I saw it.Icaught that reaction, and now that it’s in my brain, I can’t unsee it.
They’re not in a relationship, that much is clear. Still, what was that? The flustered distress of being touched, like something visceral he couldn’t control…
I myself have been caught off-guard by this entire turn of events. There’s no way I can just go into the suite and fuck whomever Dom selected for me.
No, no. What’s happening here is much more enticing.
Finally deciding to leave this hallway and go regroup, I slip away while the kid is distracted. But I only make it a step before I hear the bartender’s voice… calling himLucas.
Lucas Lips.
I scoff, shaking my head.What a corny fool.
Still, I’m pleased by this revelation.Now I know what name to look for in the guest manifest.
Surely there will be more than a few Lucas’s, but it shouldn’t be too hard to narrow it down. I’m assuming he either had a fake ID made with his picture, or is using the ID of someone named Lucas who looks like him.
Stalking away quickly, I slip into the elevator, using my key card to access my personal floor. Only Dom and I have access to it, but even he isn’t allowed in certain areas. I trust him enough to run this place, but anything beyond that is questionable.
Honestly, there aren’t many people I trust with more than business. Very few, in fact.Single digits for sure.
Kent comes to mind, my right-hand man. The poor guy is overloaded, though.I’ve been meaning to find an assistant.
My lawyers, of course, but then they’re paid to be trustworthy.
I’m not sure I even trust Max the way I probably should, being that he’s one of my oldest friends and my senior lieutenant.
My thoughts circle back to someone whom IknowI trust, but whose trust inmeseems to be wavering more each day… Whose existence has perplexed me for far longer than I care to admit, hence my frequent need to come here and let loose.
Jonathan…
I need a distraction from John Chevelle.
Once on the private floor, I rip the mask off, smoothing my hair back. It’s not exactly comfortable to wear for extended periods of time, but necessary nonetheless. I need to keep my identity hidden when I’m here, and because of my hair, I can’t just throw on any old thing.
