Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes)

Jake nods but does not look at him. ‘I thought I might as well give you a lift to mine.’

I gasp at the audacity.

Steve starts backing off. ‘I’ll be off, then,’ he says, and makes himself scarce pretty quick.

‘How dare you give him the impression that I’m going back to yours?’ I storm.

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘You can come in my mouth.’

I gasp. My insides lurch, like being in a very efficient lift. ‘For God’s sake!’

He shrugs. ‘Better, surely, than having to hear all those men telling you they want to come in yours.’

I look down at the ground and see his expensive boots polished to a mirror shine. I regret it even before I say it. ‘I won’t bother, thanks.’

‘Why not, Lily?’

‘The truth?’

‘Of course.’ He gazes at me with those smoldering eyes.

And fire flows into my blood. Jesus! I’ve never had it this bad for any man. ‘I don’t do one-night stands.’

‘Whatever gave you the impression that it would be a one-night stand?’ His eyes are curious, quizzical, fascinated.

My heart swells. He sure knows which buttons to press. He takes a step closer. I should make him try harder. ‘I want to go on a date.’

He smiles, a look of genuine happiness on his face. ‘On a date? With me?’

I nod. ‘Could be fun.’

‘I knew I’d like you.’

I grin, feeling protected and precious.

‘Come on,’ he says, and leads me to a white Porsche 918 Spyder.

I don’t know where the night is taking me—some distant warning that it could be dangerous clamors in my skull—but the call seems distant and inconsequential, and I turn away from it. I tell myself it is just a snapshot in time. Here, there, and then gone forever. Why shouldn’t I have this night? Without thought. Without consequence. Embrace, kiss, no rules, no guilt, just get and give pleasure. Only tonight. It will never be more, anyway. Not with men like him. For men like him, women come and go. So I will just do this one time.

I slide into the cool interior, and he shuts the door behind me.

‘Nice car.’

‘Yeah, I like it.’

He doesn’t have to drive far. The car stops in front of a deserted bar. All the windows are shuttered. A young man runs out of a darkened doorway and Jake chucks the car keys to him, and, putting his palm on the small of my back, leads me toward the darkened doorway.

I look up at him. ‘The place looks closed.’

‘It’s closed to some and open to others.’

The door is opened from inside. There are doormen just inside who nod respectfully to Jake and two receptionists who fuss obsequiously over him. We go through a side door and come upon a room that looks like the interior of a pub. It smells of beer and feet. The stools have been overturned on the tables ready for the floor to be cleaned in the morning.

‘What’s this place?’ I ask.