Wrinkling my forehead, I eyed the ceiling. “No? Then how about this. I forgot I drank it all until you reminded me.” Glancing sideways, I saw Jacob's tight frown. “Ah. There it is.”
My friend hesitated. “Kite, I don't want to tell you how to live your life. I'm just worried you're in a spiral.”
Leaning closer to him, I put down my glass on the bar-top. “You'll be happy to know you're right. I am in a spiral. Any suggestions on how to fix that?”
“You could quit drinking.”
I tightened my spine. “I just need something to fill my time.” Pointedly, I slid the whiskey further from me. “If not this, then what? More women?”
Jacob's lips parted; no sound came out. His eyes, pale blue and always so calm, flitted over my shoulder. Whatever he was seeing, it had stopped him in his tirade. Twisting, I spotted the source of his interest.
All curves and curls, the woman just looked warm. Not friendly, I'm talking the kind of girl you wrapped yourself up in and understood how humans lived in caves before we had furnaces.
She was dressed in a jean skirt that squeezed her hips, and black leggings that made me cry with how they hid her lovely legs. When she walked, the little gap between her thighs created a heart.
It would fit my face perfectly.
Her luxurious, coffee colored hair hung down her shoulders in waves. It shielded some of her cheeks, highlighting her shining brown eyes.
She was hot as hell... and looking at me.
“Holy fuck,” I said with a poet's mouth.
Jacob cleared his throat. “She's coming this way.”
“Of course she is,” I said under my breath. “I summoned her with my mind. She's the cure for my addictions.”
Rolling his eyes, he inched closer to talk near my ear. “How do you know she's not coming over here to talk to me?”
“Well for one, she's not looking at you.” The girl hadn't stopped staring the closer she got.
Jacob breathed through his nose. “Don't be so cocky, Kite.”
Hopping off of the stool, I gave him a tight shrug. “Don't be sore. Have a drink—on me.” Grinning, I indicated my abandoned whiskey. “I'll go meet my new friend halfway.”
Spinning, I abruptly closed the distance between me and the dark-haired woman. She pulled up short, but didn't waver or give me that pretty little surprised look a lot of girls did.
No, not this one.
Bold as ever, she leaned up and hushed into my eardrum. “I need to talk to you. In private.”
Blood stampeded into my heart. Oh, I like her. Winding an arm around her waist, I felt the knitted material of her form-fitting sweater. “Private? You read my mind.” Guiding her through the crowd, I shot a smirk at Jacob as I passed. “We have a private room down the hall, that should work.”
“Sure. That's fine.” She had a lovely, low voice. It was creamy, I wanted to fill my head with it.
Down the thin hall we went, beyond the bathrooms and the spare closet we used as an office. The new area was low-lit, curved booths and a second bar for special events.
Here, with the music piping through the speakers and the buzz of the crowd out front, we'd be alone.
I'd been told no one ever heard the women moaning.
I let my guest go and turned to face her. “I didn't get your name. I'm Kite, one of the owner's here. In case you didn't know.”
Her eyebrows went up to her hairline. She seemed so calm, or... something. I couldn't explain it. “I did know,” she said. “And I'm Marina.”
Chuckling, I hooked my thumbs in my pockets. “Guess my reputation gets around. I hope the ladies say good things.”
Marina finally faltered, eyes squinting. “What?”
“Uh, the girls.” Lifting my hands, I gestured helplessly. “That's why you wanted to see me in private? Because everyone brags about how good I am in the sack?”
Her lips scrunched up.
Ah fuck, I thought bitterly. Did I read her wrong? Is she not here to fuck me?
Looking me in the eye, Marina swallowed. “I think there's been a misunderstanding. I asked to see you in private for a very serious reason.”
Slowly, I let my hands fall to my sides. Marina did look serious. “Then go ahead. Spit it out.”
Her chest swelled as her lungs expanded. Even with the heavy air of expectation, I found myself drawn to her breasts. I couldn't control myself; this woman was a walking vision.
“I know who you are,” Marina said.
Blinking, I tilted my jaw. “You already told me that.”
“No. Who you really are.”
Laughing, I asked, “And who do you think I am? A playboy, a billionaire, a celebrity?”
Her voice was cool and collected. “You're a hitman.”
In that quiet room, the hum of life down the hallway seemed miles away. I'd been watching Marina with an eye of appreciation. I'd noted her hourglass figure, her nice smell—chocolate and pumpkin—and the way her lips were the color of fresh raspberries.
And then she had to go and ruin everything.