Raw - Aurora Belle - Страница 18

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Putting on my best poker face, I lift my nose in the air and look as if I’ve just sniffed something nasty. Happy chuckles by my side, and I want to kick him in the shin. Happy opens the door and guides me through it. My poker face falters slightly when I see a very petite, very gorgeous Asian woman perched at the end of Twitches penis-extension of a desk.

Okay, so the desk is also mahogany and huge, but calling it a penis-extension is rude. As well as false. I’ve seen the weapon he’s packing. The guy doesn’t need any sort of compensation.

Miss Asia looks up at Happy and me and doesn’t bother to hide her glower, which incidentally, is aimed at me. This pisses me off. With a swoosh of her perfectly straight, shoulder-length black hair, she moves to stand behind Twitch, and places a hand on his shoulder.

A claim, if you will.

Fuck a duck! The asshole has a girlfriend. Great! Just great. Which makes me that woman. The other woman.

Happy gently takes my hand from his elbow and pats it before lowering it to my side. Twitch, who hasn’t lifted his head from his paperwork, drawls into his reading material, “You following me?”

And my current emotional status of pissed upgrades to slightly fuming.

The words slip out of my mouth as if they’re buttered. “You follow me. I thought it was our thing.”

Miss Asia’s glower turns into a death glare, and I fight the urge to flip her off as her lip curls. Twitch’s lips curve at the corners; he lifts his head to watch me through those hooded eyes that I can’t stop thinking about and places the end of his pen in his mouth, chewing gently.

I wish that pen was my lip.

His scrutinizing gaze is enough to make me squirm, but I fight it with every last bit of willpower left in my body. Then, suddenly he announces, “Everyone out.”

Shit. This was a bad idea. This is actually happening. We’re going to hash it out.

Happy doesn’t waste any time questioning Twitch. He turns and leaves. Miss Asia, however, decides now is as good a time as any to have a stare off with me. Her brown almond-shaped eyes laser beam into mine. My gaze never waivers. I was a street kid for some time. I know intimidation tactics. They don’t do much to me coming from another woman. Coming from Twitch though…

My thoughts are cut short when Twitch stands slowly and turns to his girl. Not looking impressed, he growls, “Ling.” Her eyes hold mine only a second longer before she looks up at him. Her perfect red-stained lips match her perfect…everything.

I dislike this woman very muchly.

Twitch looks down at her in warning and her hard stare falters. “You hear me, bitch, or we need to get your ears tested?”

And just like that, I feel sorry for her. That’s no way to talk to your girl.

That’s no way to talk to any girl.

I fix my own glare at Twitch when Ling passes me much too closely. Her shoulder nudges mine, and although it doesn’t hurt, it annoys the shit out of me. Oh, and that sorry feeling I had? Gone.

Yeah. Walk away Skanks McGee.

The door closes harder than it should, and Twitch rounds his desk to sit on the front of it. “What are you doing here?”

Changing the subject, I state, “I don’t think your girlfriend likes me.” Putting on the most bored face I can muster, I add deadpan, “I’m torn up.”

Shaking his head at me, he mutters, “Yeah, I can see that.”

Question avoidance. Level: expert.

An awkward silence follows. A long awkward silence. And not making it the slightest bit easier on me, Twitch watches me from under his long lashes, his face devoid of expression.

The guy has had his dick in me. He has put his belt around my neck. I let him put his thumb in my virgin ass. He’s brought me to orgasm. More than once. And I don’t know a thing about him. Everything I thought I knew about him is wrong, or completely misunderstood.

Sighing deeply, he asks curtly, “You come to stare at me all day, or you gonna lay it out?” My face bunches at his blunt and rude demeanour. Eyes hardening, he all but barks, “Speak.”

And with that, I blurt out, “I don’t like what you’re doing to me.”

Crossing his long legs in front of him, he says completely uninterested, “No. You don’t like what you let me do to you.”

I ponder this. And when I realize he may possibly (definitely) be right, I ask weakly, “Why won’t you tell me your name?”

His response is a bored stare in my direction. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of colorful chocolate buttons, pours a handful into his palm, and shoves the lot into his mouth. Chewing slowly, I watch his throat work as he swallows bit-by-bit of the melted sticky sweetness, and I press my thighs together, trying in vain to deny the fact that this man has a hold on me.

Finding courage from somewhere deep in my gut, I take a step forward and state with false bravado, “I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out…Twitch.”

His gorgeous face contorts in anger, eyes flashing. He stands abruptly and walks behind his desk to sit in the throne he calls a chair. Losing some steam, he picks up a document and skims over it. “Don’t go digging, Alexa. You’re bound to find a few bones.” I don’t know what to say to that, but my stomach clenches tightly. Still reading, he adds, “Keep this up and you’re going to get hurt.”

My spine stiffens. “Is that a threat?”

Lifting his head, his soft brown eyes harden. “It’s a fucking promise.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I need to get out of here. This was a very bad idea.

Swallowing hard, I breathe heavily and take a step back, retreating while I still have some pride left. Halfway to the door, he asks, “Do you have any plans this weekend?”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. Pulling open a desk drawer, he pulls out a golden envelope, removes the card from the inside, and scribbles something onto it. Holding the card in his outstretched hand for me to take, I resist only a moment before curiosity gets the better of me. Once at his desk, I take the card and read in silence.

A masque. Charity function. Saturday night. Costume ball.

I know two people who would love this. Feeling uncomfortable, I ask quietly, “Can I bring someone?”

Twitch’s lip curls. “No date.”

Hmmm. Interesting. We’ll think on that later.

Shaking my head, I start, “No, my two best friends would—” But I’m cut off when leans across the desk, snatches the card from my hand, and scribbles another something on the front. Turning the card over, he pens something on the back and hands the card back to me.

Lowering his head to his paperwork, he dismisses me with, “Til Saturday, Alexa.”

Too stunned to even tell him goodbye, I walk out of his office, close the door behind me, and look down at the card in my hand.

Alexa Ballentine and guests.

A small smile graces my lips.

I have phone calls to make.

The front door of my unit bursts open, and there stands Nikki, looking haggard and worn. Smiling, I open my mouth to greet her, but she cuts me off with a wave of her hand. “No! You said you’d tell me. Now we’re both free and you can tell me. What the hell happened to you the other day? No more avoiding me!”

Why do people always cut me off?

Signing, I stand from my place on the sofa. “Coffee?”

Sitting in my now-empty space with a groan, she replies tiredly, “Do bears shit in the woods?”

Chuckling, I go about making coffee and thinking hard about just how much I should tell her. Nikki and I don’t have secrets, but in this case, I may need to make an exception. My gut churns in apprehension. Shit’s about to go down.

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