I’m tempted to sink into the leather chair on the far side of the room but decide to stay upright, prepared for anything. Who knows what this man is going to ask for in exchange for his help. But to save Rose, I’m prepared to do anything.
I don’t know how long I stand there waiting, but eventually, the doorknob turns, and two men enter, followed closely by Adrian. I meet his eyes until my fear gets the better of me, and I drop my gaze to the floor.
“Well, look at you,” he says.
His words make me glance up. The other two men have flanked me, but I don’t even care, not when his eyes are trained on me, his gaze raking me from head to toe. I can almost feel it but not in the same creepy way Sal’s beady eyes linger on my tits or ass. No, this is different. It feels like he’s inspecting me, looking beneath my layers to the parts I keep hidden. Adrian drinks me in, and when he stops, he focuses on my hair. It’s tied back into an elegant chignon—done by Rose, of course—but I wanted it restrained.
“Everyone out,” he orders. His booming voice startles me, and I jump in my shoes, barely managing to remain standing. The men don’t question him. They simply walk around him and close the door once they leave.
I’m alone with him for the first time since the party. Like really truly alone and I’m not sure what to do with myself. My courage is flaking away with every twiddling second we stand here, and I try to hold on to why I’ve come in the first place. Rose. I have to save Rose.
“You came for a reason,” he states. It’s not a question, so I’m not sure how to answer. I’m not sure what answer will make him help me—help us.
I clear my throat and straighten my shoulders, doing my best to appear strong. “I came to see you.”
“For…?” he prompts. The iciness of his tone makes me shiver. “If you can’t say it out loud, then you aren’t ready to be here, Val.”
When he steps forward, I catch the smoky ginger scent of him, and suddenly, I can’t focus. Not on anything but how very close he’s standing now. Or how his hand reaches behind my head and pulls the pins from the bottom of my hair to release it.
The heft of it tumbles out of its restraints, and he catches it in his hand. I don’t know why the idea of his hand in my hair makes me feel so…warm. No, not warm, hot. I’ve never felt this way around a man. Warm and needy. All the experience I have with sex is visual and forced. I don’t know what to do with these developing feelings except lean into his touch and drag his scent deep into my lungs to keep it there, to memorize it.
“Tell me why you’re here, Val.” His voice is just above a whisper, and I feel the heat of his breath on my ear.
I swallow thickly as reality crashes back down around me. His hand is still sifting through my curls, and I don’t dare pull away as I speak. “I need help with a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” he asks, his eyes focused on my hair.
If all he wants is to rub my scalp and play with my curls, then I can handle this. I force another ragged breath into my lungs. I’m here, so I might as well commit now.
“I want you to kill my fiancé.”
His fingers freeze and snap into a fist, pulling my hair tight against my scalp. Not painfully, but I’m aware of him there, his touch lingering like an invisible noose around my neck. One wrong move, and I’m as good as dead.
“Do you understand what you’re asking me for?”
I nod, my courage gone now that I’ve stated what I want.
He continues moving his fingers again. “And why do you think I can help you with this little problem of yours?”
Shit. Do I tell him he’s the society’s version of a boogeyman? Does a monster already know he’s a monster, or will he lash out at the person who informs him?
“Um…well…”
“Val. Just say it. You haven’t shied away from being honest with me so far.”
His eyes lock on mine, and I let myself relax into his touch, his hand practically cradling my head now. “You have a reputation of being ruthless. My cousin says you’re dangerous and scary.”
“Yet you are here.” Another statement so I don’t say anything.
“Do you understand what you’re asking me for?” He asks the question once more while his fingers massage the base of my neck. His touch feels so good, I barely stifle a moan of pleasure. “Do you understand there is always a price for these types of things? Normally, it comes in the form of money, guns, drugs, or…” His voice trails off, and then he continues, “Are you willing to pay the price? Any price?”