Saskia leans back in her chair and hides behind her cold eyes. I know she's truly listening despite her expression.
"You can be anyone now. Your mother is dead, and the past is the past. You can start over again like I did. Other people do it all the time. My mom was a housewife and office clerk before she went to California to manage me. She didn't know about contracts and publicity tours. People treated her like a fucking nobody and tried pushing her around. Mom pushed right back. She isn't nearly as tough as she pretends, but she can be what she needs to be when the time comes. You can too. Little Maven was who you were. It's not who you have to be now."
Saskia picks up her fork and digs into the salmon on her plate. "Nice speech but the past is never gone. You know that every time you wash your back and chest."
"Those scars remind me that I survived. When faced with death, I didn't fall apart. When you have a plush fucking life, you never know how you'll react to such violence. I kept my head and escaped."
"Killed one of them too."
I think of Dennis and nod. "Killed one of them too."
Saskia focuses on her food and ignores my attempts to restart the conversation.
"I don't want dessert," she says once the waitress takes her plate. "I want to return to the hotel and get on all fours."
"Of course you do. I want a piece of cake first."
Saskia fists her napkin as if wanting to punch me.
"Sugar will help me keep up my stamina tonight," I mumble, trying not to laugh. "You should see your face."
"You're being an ass."
"Yes, but you were a bitch earlier, so it evens out."
Saskia twists her lips in thought before shrugging. "That's true. Can I share the cake?"
I nearly dive across the table and kiss her but know we're still dancing. Saskia wants to be cold and in charge. Considering she's her worst enemy, I refuse to let her dictate what happens.
Rather than revealing how badly I want her, I only nod at her question. I plan to keep things simple for the rest of dinner and the ride home. Once I have her to myself at the hotel, though, all bets are off.
19
Saskia
Lost in Lust
Brad's strong fingers dance along my back during the ride up the elevator. Even grinning, I shove his hands away. He only smiles at me before hiding his face in my hair.
His easy affections addict me. I've never known anyone so willing to embrace me and smile so honestly. In my life, people hide and lie. No one shows their true self when honesty can lead to death.
Brad should hide too. He's survived all these years by keeping to himself and remaining locked away. The man has no reason to trust me, yet he hides nothing when our gazes meet. His touch never hesitates either, taking greedily instead.
The elevator opening thwarts my desire to climb into his powerful arms. Even with our rooms on a secure upper floor, I get edgy when I see a man standing in the hall.
With his face hidden behind shoulder-length dark hair, he retrieves a card key to enter his room. I press the button to hold the elevator doors open. Brad moves to walk out until I gesture for him to step back.
"What's wrong?"
"I enjoy paranoia."
Brad smiles and leans against the wall. "You're so sexy when you're professional. Painfully sexy."
Despite smirking at Brad's comment, I remain focused on the stranger fumbling with his card key. Nothing about him feels out of the ordinary, yet I refuse to look away. My gut never lets me forget that I'm on the clock.
The stranger drops his key and crouches down to pick it up. I keep my gaze on him and my finger on the door open button. I want to do my job, but my mind keeps lingers the flesh between my legs aching for relief. I imagine Brad and I disappearing into my hotel room for a few hours.
My mind is so clouded by desire that I nearly miss the stranger glancing at me. The moment he realizes I'm waiting for him is when I realize he's waiting for me. Our gazes meet for only an instant, but we both understand. Brad is unaware until I push him farther back into the elevator.
The man pulls a small gun while my new Glock 42 is already out. Normally, I'd shoot him between the eyes and end the threat. Fighting this urge, I aim at his wrist holding the gun. The bullet tears into his flesh, yet he gets off a single shot from his gun that goes wild.
Running down the hall towards him, I shove his larger body into the wall and kick the back of his left knee. The target crumbles to the ground while reaching out for me. I feel his long nails scratching my leg before he hits the floor hard.
"Stay down," I order, pointing my gun at the muttering target.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Brad rushing out of the elevator. The big beluga's male ego insists he help me. While he means well, his proximity to the target sends my heart into my throat.
When the bleeding target reaches for his weapon with his good hand, I stomp on his fingers. Hearing his bones cracking, I kick away the gun.