I looked her over again, letting my eyes roam from the curve of her waist to huge, white diamonds in her ears. Everything about her screamed money—a slightly unbuttoned silk blouse tucked perfectly into high-waisted yet revealing trousers with gold bracelets stacked on her wrist.
But she wasn’t flaunting her wealth, she was testing me to see if our lifestyles aligned.
I smirked. “I’m sure.”
Reaching out slightly, I tried to get closer, but the little rat—excuse me, the fuck ass dog—barked at my hand like it had just spotted a predator.
I froze, pulling back as she laughed. I didn’t get what was funny, ‘cause if that dog touched me we would’ve had an issue in this bitch.
“Ma’am,” the bartender scolded. “I warned you about the dog.”
“I’d love a glass ofSucré,” she ignored him and turned the atmosphere around smoothly, commanding without being overbearing.
Sucré, huh?
She dropped my company name as if it were casual. Well, technically, it was me and my business partner’s company but who was she to know that? She was an enjoyer of our product, and that was good enough.
My smile returned.
“Good taste,” I said, signaling the bartender closer with a nod.
“So I keep hearing,” she replied as she pet the growling dog, trying to calm it. “Shh, Chewy.”
Okay. That motherfucker’s got to go.
“Bring me a bottle of Sucré,” I asked the bartender while keeping my eyes on her and that cockblocking mutt.
Her brows rose in surprise. “A bottle, huh?”
I nodded.
“We’ll split it,” I announced, my tone smooth because I already knew this was going exactly where I wanted it to go. So did the men around me apparently, because the group around us groaned in frustration. Any chance they had of swooping in had evaporated with that declaration.
Her voice was warm, “Okay.”
Exactly.
Her friend—who I already forgot about—caught the hint immediately and cleared her throat before getting up from her seat and grabbing the rat.
“Thank you for the drink,” she said while giving Desire an air kiss. I could hear her faintly whisper in her ear, “I’ll see you back in the room, okay? Keep your location on.”
Then she turned and left with haste that made me question how often her friend did this for their routine to be down packed.
I kept my eyes on Desire as the bartender opened the bottle and poured our glasses. She lifted hers, holding it up to the light inspecting the vintage, inhaled, swirled, then took a delicate sip.
“You know your shit,” I said, impressed despite it being obvious she would.
“I should,” she said, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “It’s basically part of the family business.”
I should have asked what that meant, tried to suss out if she was loaded trust-fund rich or a part of a competitive company, but I was too focused on the way her lips wrapped around the glass.
“Oh! Where are my manners?” she said suddenly, lifting the glass toward me. “Cheers to you, mister…”
“Mr. S. Will do,” I replied, clinking my glass gently against hers.
“Got it.Mr. S.,” she said, lips twitching as she let the name roll off her tongue.
We sipped, keeping our eyes locked, tension coiling between us.
