Money Man (King Maker 1)

While the stockbroker talked about his job at my prompting, I found myself periodically gazing at the guy who’d had me begging him to fuck me the night before. No longer in a darkened ballroom or shrouded bathroom, I could see for sure he was as devastatingly gorgeous as I remembered. And I wasn’t the only one to notice. Other women in the room, young and old alike, couldn’t keep their eyes off him. His thick black hair, strong profile sculpted from all things pleasing, and mouth that promised all kinds of sensual pleasures were alluring. I could barely keep my eyes off him.

“Bailey,” my date said, capturing my attention.

I turned quickly to him. “Yes,” I replied, blinking rapidly, knowing I’d been caught.

“I’m told you’re a CPA for a big international firm,” he repeated.

“Oh,” I replied, feeling guilty that I hadn’t been paying any attention to him. It was rude. “I’m just a first-year auditor, not really as exciting as your job.”

“I think you would make anything interesting,” he said, focused solely on me.

Gratefully, the first course showed up and I didn’t have to respond. As much as I didn’t want to notice the other man, the nameless guy had captured all my attention. I found myself inappropriately damp at the sight of him.

Then again, my body remembered. So much so, I kept stealing looks in his direction. He made taking a drink an incredibly erotic experience, which was crazy.

Somehow, I’d managed to keep up with the dinner conversation while honing my stalker abilities. By the time the empty entrée plates were removed from my table, I had to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. I needed to freshen up, and badly. Mr. Fuck Me ate his food in a way that reminded me how he’d nibbled on me.

I skirted by his table without him looking up at me. In the bathroom, I took care of cleanup. Then I stared at myself long and hard in the mirror.

I could hear my father chastising me. Just shameful, he would chide and for more reasons than because I couldn’t keep my eyes off the man who wasn’t even my date.

Forget about him, I told myself. The proper thing to do was to concentrate on the guy who had taken me out for the night. Yeah right, easier said than done, I thought.

After reapplying lip gloss, I headed out the door and right into a wall.

“Excuse me,” I said before looking up. And up. There he was.

“Bailey,” he said in a heavily accented and extremely sexy voice. My clear brain recognized the Scottish brogue I’d missed before.

Shocked, I sniped, “How do you know my name?”

He stared at me with an unreadable expression. “A guess. Your friend called it out as she ran after you,” he said matter-of-factly.

He’d flustered me with his closeness, stirring my arousal.

“I didn’t run away,” I lied, and not convincingly.

He shrugged. “I’ll leave you to your date.”

The fact that he seemed not to care one way or the other embarrassed me more.

“And back to yours,” I snapped, sounding petty and jealous as he moved to leave.

“Jealous,” he said, with an arching brow.

Clearing my throat, I felt the need to set the record straight. “No,” I said emphatically and belatedly added, “Besides, last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m not that kind of woman.”

“And here I thought this was an invitation.”

“An invitation,” I said incredulously. My blood boiled and not for the reasons it had moments before.

“Yes, considering your penchant for bathroom stalls.” A smirk appeared on his beautiful face. “Or maybe you’re wet, remembering how I fucked you last night.”

Of all the—as I dug for a snarky response, somehow the distance between us closed, leaving only a sliver of space. Desire ratcheted up in me, but also unnerving me.

“Are you wet for me, lass?” he asked, confidence radiating in his cold gaze.

“What?—Wait?—No! You’re on a date with another woman.”

And that was the biggest lie ever.

He didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Dinnae concern yourself with her.”

“Concern,” I said, sounding way too breathy instead of angry. “I’m not concerned. Just curious why you’re here with me,” I challenged.

I wanted to take the words back as quickly as I’d said them. Before I had the chance, he answered.

“I could ask the same?” His brow lifted.

People were passing us in the narrow hallway, mostly servers, and he hadn’t given them a single glance. He continued to cage me as if we were alone.

“Does your little boyfriend know what you did with me last night?”

“Little?” I asked as if that was the most important part of what he’d asked.

“He looks barely older than a teenager.”

The stockbroker did have a baby face, but I wasn’t about to agree with him.

“Last night was a mistake. And even though it’s none of your business, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s my date and none of your concern.” I put emphasis on the last word, reminding him of his.