“Great. Right this way.” The ma?tre d guided us forward through the richly decorated restaurant to an intimate mood-lit bar. I’d chosen H?tel de Paris’s signature eatery, partly because I needed to be close to our room in case I lost my shit, and partly to ensure Selix wouldn’t have an aneurysm for sending his protection away.
Pim was wearing on my self-control. In the elevator down here, I’d pressed myself against the glass wall and pretended I wore a straitjacket to prevent reaching for her. In the short walk across the lobby, I’d resisted the urge to bite my knuckles every time I glanced at her perfect ass.
If she broke my remaining restraint, then at least I had a room to vanish into before the world saw me snap.
I made the mistake of looking at Pim’s hips again as she moved in front of me, climbing seductively onto a velvet flocked bar-stool. I was so used to seeing her barefoot or in flat sandals, I hadn’t taken into consideration just how fucking sexy she’d be when wearing heels. How her natural step would switch from temptation to pure fucking addiction.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, his hair shaved on the sides and crew cut on top. His uniform matched the rest of the hoteliers with its sleek navy waistcoat and deep blue embroidery.
The colours reminded me of the ocean and how much I missed being on it. If I was on the Phantom, I would strip off my suit and dive into the cool waves. I wouldn’t come up for air until I’d suffocated every piece that had no willpower left when it came to Pim.
Gritting my teeth against the urge to count the stitches on his lapel or shove away an extra bowl of nuts on the bar because the numbers were even rather than odd, I waited for my date to order.
However, she glanced at me instead. The heavy weight of silence settled over her. Her eyes pinched with apology and worry—hinting she was used to talking to me but wasn’t ready for this—wasn’t ready for eager bartenders, five-star hotel escapades, and upcoming sexual encounters.
She was strong. Yet I kept forgetting how terrible her life had been, how much she had to overcome just to sit here with me and not sob into a martini.
Accepting her need not to speak to strangers and understanding her crutch because I had my own, I ordered for her. “She’ll have a tequila sunrise.”
Her lips parted.
I didn’t know if it was in approval or denial, but I added, “Make that two.”
“Right away, sir.” The bartender turned to create our drinks while Pim’s eyes remained locked on mine.
“What?”
She shrugged, taking a napkin from the bar and curling the edges. “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“I just—”
I reached out, stilling her hands on the napkin. “Just what?” Her skin blazed beneath mine, electric and intoxicating. Touching her made me want to touch more and more and fucking more. I wanted to stroke, lick, and adore every inch. The itchy, overwhelming need crackled in my blood, begging me to let go and just give in.
To forget this sham of a dinner and go back where prying eyes wouldn’t judge. To layer Pim with warnings about how close I was to snapping and make this her fault when I finally broke.
But I didn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Letting her go, I nodded in thanks as two glasses of orange juice, tequila, and grenadine were placed in front of us. “You can use silence on others, Pim, but not on me.”
She sipped her drink, wincing at the potent taste of alcohol while avoiding my question. Giving her a few moments, I drank my own. The tartness of citrus didn’t help my on-edge mood.
A soft whisper beside me. “You don’t drink.”
I stilled, placing the glass back onto the bar, and turned to face her. “How do you know I don’t drink?”
She glanced at me shyly. “At Alrik’s…you refused the drinks he offered.”
She’d noticed that? Huh. What else did she notice? “That’s because I refuse to endure social niceties with a jackass.”
Her shoulders tensed, her mind going where I didn’t want it to go.
Touching the delicate skin of her wrist, I murmured, “A dead jackass. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
She gave me a sharp smile, changing subjects. “You don’t drink on the Phantom.”
“Because I have a better alternative.”
“Weed?”
“That and other things.”
“Your cello.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lit up, narrowing in calculation. “You told me that first night that you have many laws ruling your life.” She sat straighter as if she’d been building up to asking me this. “What are they?”
I sighed, taking another gulp of my drink.
The tequila didn’t sit well, but I took another gulp anyway.
This was my fault. I’d answered her previous questions, which gave her the illusion that I’d answer more. I’d told her about my family. She’d witnessed how much my own mother hated me. She already knew countless things about me. So much more than I knew about her.
Our understanding of one another was lopsided.
It couldn’t be allowed to continue.
Pushing my drink away, I crossed my arms. “No more.”
“No more?” She tilted her head. “No more what?”
“Answers.”
“But—”
“No more until you answer some of mine.”
She eyed me, worry creeping over her features. “Answers to what?”
“To everything.”
I had an encyclopaedia of things I wanted to know; questions I was desperate to ask. But first, she had to understand that just because I chose to be a gentleman and not enforce our prior agreement, she still had to pay me in other ways, not just her secrets.
The bartender had left his post to talk to an elderly woman by the window. Behind the counter in regimented racks and blue lit displays were oxidised black metal spoons, pressed napkins, and cocktail stirrers emblazoned with the hotel emblem.
Hotel property but with no value attached. Things guests used and pinched without a second thought.
Let’s see what Pim does…
I smiled. “Before we talk, you’re going to do something for me.”
“I am?”
“You are.” Pointing at the display with my chin, I said, “Steal me a spoon.”
Her eyebrows shot up, highlighting how flawless her skin was, how she didn’t need makeup to make her green eyes pop or hours with a hairdresser to ensure her hair tempted me constantly. “Excuse me?”
“Remember our agreement? You’d steal things for me?”
“I remember you saying such things. But I don’t ever remember agreeing to them.”
I smiled. “Oh, you agreed to them by indulging me. Besides, did you think your silence prevented your eyes from answering me? You’re forgetting I can read you, Pim, just like I’m guessing you can read me.”
She pursed her lips, neither confirming nor denying my belief that she was a master at understanding body language.
“Besides, you’ve already stolen a few things on my behalf. That makes you a thief.” I leaned closer, keeping this conversation strictly between us and not the diamond glittery gentry around us. “And a thief needs practice.”
The scent of her skin shot up my nose, grabbing me around the cock. I swallowed my groan as she shifted closer, her neck lengthening into a swan curve, begging me to bite.
“I have that one hundred dollar bill you turned into a house. Can I give you that?” Her voice wavered, soft with mirroring desire. “Surely, that’s worth more than a stupid spoon.”
My heart raced as she shifted closer.