“Then I’ll keep you company until they show up.” He grins wider, inching into my space yet again. “Maybe convince you to ditch whoever you’re meeting for me.”
His hand grazes my knee. There’s a faint indentation where a wedding ring usually sits.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on.” He moves closer, invading even more of my space. His breath reeks of alcohol and fried food. “We’re all stranded here another night. May as well make the most of it. I’ll make it worth your while.”
I inwardly groan. Why do all men think they’re God’s gift to women? That just because they show a modicum of interest, we’ll happily spread our legs?
That may work for other women, but not me.
“I told you. I?—”
“I believe the lady told you she wasn’t interested.”
The voice is low and lethal, smooth as velvet but laced with danger. I turn just as a tall figure steps between us, forcing the creep to pull away from me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Someone you don’t want to test,” the man murmurs just loud enough for him to hear, an air of confidence and control about him. “If I were you, I’d apologize to the lady, then leave.”
There’s a quiet weight to his words, the kind that comes from someone who’s ended fights with a single move. His body radiates restraint, but only barely.
“We were just talking. I?—”
“I said to apologize and leave.”
Several seconds pass as the two men glare at each other. Finally, the creep stands from his chair.
“Fine,” he bites out, downing the rest of his drink and heading toward the elevators.
“I believe you’re forgetting something,” the man calls after him.
The creep stops in his tracks, confused at first. The suit-clad man simply widens his stance, the threat unmistakable.
“Sorry,” the creep mutters.
“I think you can do better.”
The creep pins me with a glare, obviously hating to be put in his place. He’s probably never experienced it before. But the man won’t back down. Instead, he crosses his arms over his broad chest, making him appear even more threatening.
“I’m sorry for not listening.”
The man looks my way.
It’s the first time I’ve seen his face. He’s older. Distinguished. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. A bit of scruff, like he didn’t bother shaving because he doesn’t feel the need to impress anyone. His suit jacket is expensive, and something about the controlled strength and quiet dominance in his body language screams authority.
“Are you satisfied with his apology?”
The deep timbre of his voice causes an unexpected shiver to roll through me, but I push it down and nod. “Yeah. Sure.”
The man turns back to the creep. “Nowyou’re free to go.”
The creep doesn’t hesitate. He spins around, muttering under his breath, and disappears into an elevator.
Once the doors close, I release a long breath, taking a much-needed sip of wine.
“Sorry if I overstepped,” the man offers after a beat. “I just don’t like seeing women being taken advantage of. There are assholes everywhere.”
