outfits and visiting Times Square abhorrent.
We usually grabbed a drink together after our boxing matches, but he excused himself tonight for a date with his wife, so I entered the bar alone.
I wove through the room, instinctively searching for a glimpse of dimples and violet, but I only saw Isabella’s blond friend and another bartender with red curls.
I settled at an empty stool and ordered my usual scotch, neat, from the blond. Teresa? Teagan?
Tessa. That was her name.
“Here you go!” she chirped, setting the drink in front of me.
“Thank you.” I took a casual sip. “Busy night. Is anyone else working today?”
“Nope. We never have more than two people working the same shift.” Tessa’s brows rose. “Are you looking for someone in particular?”
I shook my head. “Just asking.”
Luckily, another customer soon diverted her attention, and she didn’t press further.
I finished my scotch and spent the next half hour engaging in the obligatory networking and information gathering—there was nothing like a little alcohol to loosen people’s tongues, which was why I had a strict three-drink limit in public—but I couldn’t focus. My thoughts kept straying to a certain room on the second floor.
Not because of Isabella, obviously. I was simply bothered by how she’d outperformed me, and I couldn’t rest until I’d perfected the piece.
I lasted another ten minutes in the bar before I couldn’t take it anymore. I excused myself from a conversation with the CEO of a private equity firm, slipped out the side entrance, and took the stairs to the second floor.
Unlike yesterday, no music leaked into the hall. A brush of what felt perilously close to disappointment skimmed my skin until I shook it off.
I reached for the door right as it swung open.
Something— someone—small and soft slammed into me, and I instinctively reached an arm around her waist to steady her.
I looked down, the scent of rose and vanilla clouding my senses before my brain registered who was in my arms.
Silky dark hair. Tanned skin. Huge brown eyes that melded to mine with surprise and something else that sent an alarming rush of heat through my blood.
Isabella.
CHAPTER 6
Isabella
Kai wrapped an arm around my waist, anchoring me against his torso. It was like being enveloped in an inferno. Heat seeped through my shirt and into my veins; a flush rose to the surface of my skin, which tingled beneath the sudden, heavy weight of my uniform.
I should do something—apologize for running into him (even though it hadn’t been my fault), step back, run the hell away—but my mind had glitched. All I could focus on was the solid strength of his body and the rapid thud, thud, thud of my heart.
Kai tipped his chin down, his eyes finding mine. For once, he wasn’t wearing a tie and jacket.
Instead, he wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and the top button undone. The shirt was so soft, and he smelled so nice, that I got the inane urge to press my face into his chest. Or, worse, to press my mouth to the hollow of his throat and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
My breath escaped through parted lips. The tingling intensified; everything felt warm and heavy, like I’d been dipped in sun-kissed honey.
Kai’s expression remained indifferent, but his throat flexed with a telltale swallow.
I wasn’t the only one who felt the electric link between us.
The realization was enough to snap me out of my trance.
What was I doing? This was Kai, for Christ’s sake. He was one hundred (okay, ninety) percent not my type and two hundred percent off-limits.
I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as my predecessor, who’d gotten fired after my supervisor caught her giving a club member a blow job. She’d been reckless, and now she was blacklisted from working at every bar within a forty-mile radius. Valhalla took its rules—and consequences— seriously.
Plus…
Remember what happened the last time you got involved with someone who was off-limits?
My stomach lurched, and the fog finally receded enough for me to break free from his embrace.
Despite the heater humming in the background, stepping out of Kai’s arms was like leaving a cozy, fire-lit cabin to traverse the mountains in the dead of winter.
Goose bumps scattered over my arms, but I played it off with a casual lilt. “Are you stalking me?”
Running into him here once could’ve been coincidence, but twice was suspicious. Especially on consecutive nights.
I expected him to brush me off with his usual dry amusement. Instead, the tiniest hint of pink colored his cheekbones.
“We discussed this last time. I’m a member of the club, and I’m simply availing myself of its amenities,” he said, the words stilted and formal.
“You’ve never used the piano room before this week.”
A faint lift of his brow. “How do you know?”
Instinct. If Kai made regular appearances here, I’d feel it. He altered the shape of every space he entered.
“Just a hunch,” I said. “But I’m glad you’re coming more often. You could use the practice.” I tamped down a smile at the way his eyes sparked. “Maybe one day, you’ll catch up to me.”
To my disappointment, he didn’t take the bait.
“One can only hope. Of course…” The earlier spark turned thoughtful. Assessing. “Last night could’ve been a fluke. You talk a big game, but can you duplicate the same level of performance?”
Now he was the one dangling the bait, his words gleaming like a minnow hooked to a jig head.
I shouldn’t fall for it. I had to get more words in—I was woefully behind on my daily word count goal of three thousand words—and I’d only snuck in here after my shift because I’d hoped it would jump-start my creativity. I didn’t have time to indulge in Kai’s veiled challenges.
The practical side of me insisted I return home that minute to write; another, more convincing side glowed with pride. Kai wouldn’t have challenged me if he weren’t rattled, and there were so few things I was truly talented at that I couldn’t resist the urge to show off. Just a little.
I released a confident smile. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we? Your choice.”
The weight of his gaze followed me to the bench. I opened the fallboard and tried to focus on the smooth, familiar keys instead of the man behind me.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked.
“ ‘Winter Wind.’ ” Kai’s presence brushed my back. A shiver of pleasure, followed by the slow drip of warmth down my spine. “Chopin.”
It was one of the composer’s most difficult études, but it was doable.
I glanced at Kai, who leaned against the side of the piano and assessed me with the detached interest of a professor grading a student. Moonlight spilled over his relaxed form, sculpting his cheekbones with silver and etching shadows beneath those inscrutable eyes.