Not because I want her there.
Because I don’t want a scene in my own club.
“Well, now that you’re here…” Alana bites her lip seductively.
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
Her fingers trail up and down slowly. “You don’t look fine.”
I turn my head just enough to meet her eyes.
Flat. Controlled.
She doesn’t take the hint. Of course she doesn’t. She’s built a living on men who say no with their mouths and yes with everything else.
She leans in closer. “Come on,” she whispers. “I’ll take you somewhere private.”
“I’m already in a private room,” I say.
She smiles like I’m flirting.
Antonio shifts, hand brushing his side again, and I see him wince before he hides it. He looks away, jaw tight, like he’s annoyed with his own body for betraying him.
Alana’s hand slides up my thigh.
I catch her wrist.
Not hard.
Just firm enough.
Her smile falters for half a second, then she puts it back on.
“You’re hurting my feelings,” she says.
“I don’t care,” I answer.
Her eyes narrow, but she keeps her voice sweet. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you’re not listening.”
She tilts her head. “Maybe you just need convincing.”
I remove her hand from my leg and release her wrist.
She laughs again, lower this time. “You never used to be so serious.”
“You’re thinking of someone else,” I say, dry.
Her gaze flicks over my mouth, my throat, like she’s imagining what she can get away with anyway. She puts her hand on my chest.
I feel Antonio’s stare now. Waiting to see what I’ll do.
I lean forward a fraction, voice dropping. “Walk away,” I say slowly.
She holds my gaze.
Then she smirks. “What, you don’t want to pay?”
