Not that any of that matters tonight. Tonight, Roman is just a job. Nothing more. Sure, I don’t know Kacey, the woman who paid for tonight’s case personally, but I know enough. There’s a reason she’s feeling vulnerable in her relationship with him, and it starts and ends with her dating a guy likethat.
But no amount of disgust for the male race is going to stop me from doing what I came here to do. I’m going to have to lure him away from his holiday party, tempt him to make a move on me, and then get the footage I need before running. Which means I need to turn up the sexy, just enough to catch his attention and convince him to prove exactly what kind of man he is.A cheater and a liar.
Shouldn’t be difficult.
I smooth my expression and get ready to reel him over to where I’m seated. Except I don't even have to try because before I turn, he’s right there, claiming the seat beside me at the bar. His warm and heady scent surrounds my chilled body. It’s expensive cologne, I’m certain, and when he speaks, I feel it in my core.
"You're not one of my employees." His voice is lower than I expected. A deep, rumbling timbre that I feel somewhere in my chest, like a bass note through a speaker.
I take my time turning to face him.And holy hell.
Up close, this man doesn’t just ooze sex appeal, he’s drowning in it. His hazel eyes are the color of roasted chestnuts, warm and rich, yet sharp enough to cut through a lie. A thick, dark beard hugs his strong jawline, trimmed with precision but rugged enough to remind you he’s all man and probably spends more time working on the jobsite than keeping up with his appearance. And that chest, broad and solid, looks like it could crush me flat if he laid on top of me like a weighted blanket.
My ex-husband Brian wasn’t this big, and I can guarantee if he’d laid on me, I’d still be able to breathe. But this guy looks like he’d suffocate mein the most delicious way possible. Too bad he’s an absolute piece of shit who’s never getting the chance to touch me beyond what I decide is necessary for Kacey’s case.
"You're right," I say, lifting my martini for an exaggerated sip. "I'm not."
His hands flex against the bar top and that’s when I notice the tattoos, the veins, how they look like the size of a catcher’s mitt.
"Then what are you doing here? Didn’t you see the sign? It's a private event."
"I'm aware."
One brow lifts and he waits. I stay quiet, letting the silence do the work for me. Men like this always crack first. And when they do, they usually say something they regret which will do my job for me.
He does.
"What are you drinking tonight?"
I suppress a smile. "A martini."
He leans past me to catch the bartender's eye. "Hey, Cody, get the lady another martini. On my tab. Please."
"Sure thing, boss," Cody replies.
"So," I say, letting my voice drop just enough to cause him to lean forward, "you're the boss then?"
"I own this bar." He settles onto the stool beside me, angling his whole body in my direction like I'm the only thing in the room worth looking at despite his entire company being behind him now. His knee nudges mine and I know it’s not accidental. I hope the camera planted in my shirt caught that connection. "And the building next door that we're renovating, too."
"Impressive." I give him a slow smile and watch him practically glow under it. "Maybe you could show me the building sometime."
He hums like he's considering it. "It's a bit of a mess right now. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt."
A bit of a mess?I wasinsidethat building an hour ago in a hardhat and thigh-high boots, creeping through the darkened tenth floor to make sure he was actually working and not pre-cheating on Kacey before heading here.
Unfortunately for me, it was just him and another employee talking about pendant lights and paint colors, nothing more scandalous than a disagreement over interior design and some discussion around how they desperately need to hire a designer, or they’ll continue to be behind on their plans to open sometime next year.
The bartender returns with my second drink, setting it in front of me. “Here you go, Christina.”
I watch as Roman turns my name over in his mind.
“Thank you.” I smile. The microphone tucked discreetly into my shirt is live, the camera rolling. Time to get things moving.
“So,” I say, swirling my fresh glass idly, “you know I’m not one of your employees and you obviously didn’t come over here to kick me out of your holiday party. What’s the real reason you’re here talking to me while the rest of your team is enjoying themselves?”
He props one elbow on the bar top and angles his entire body toward me like he’s giving me his full focus. His knee nudges mine again, and it’s not accidental. He’s purposely touching me. Testing the water. He’s not surrounding me, but his presence is still caging me in, nonetheless.
His posture is pure dominance. Legs spread wide, thighs taking up all the space on the stool until none of the wood is exposed. A dark curl of hair falls across his forehead. It’s not exactly messy, but it isn’t filled with product. It looks like he ran a hand through it once and decided that was enough. It makes him look dangerous. Or maybe that’s just the way he’s looking at me.
