Dax (Arizona Vengeance 4)

The man drags his attention off Willow to shoot me a warm, genial smile, then sticks his hand out. “Dominik Carlson. I own the Arizona Vengeance.”

Holy shit. He not only owns the Vengeance, but he also owns a professional basketball team in Los Angeles. This guy is more than just wealthy, and I fear my hand is sweating profusely as I place it in his.

“I’m Regan Miles,” I murmur.

Mr. Carlson gives me a gracious incline of his head before regarding Willow.

The expression on his face turns almost predatory as he sticks his hand out to her. She places her fingertips gently against his palm. He naturally curls his hand around hers, pulling her knuckles up to his lips where he brushes a kiss there.

It’s old-fashioned and romantic, although I don’t think either of those describe his intentions. “And you are?”

Willow boldly holds Mr. Carlson’s gaze, the corners of her lips tipping upward before she gives him a dazzling smile in return. “Willow.”

It’s not lost on me that she doesn’t give her last name, which would likely out her as Dax’s sister. It’s clear she’d rather not be identified.

Mr. Carlson knows she’s being evasive, too. I can see it on his face, and I expect him to challenge her for more information, but he releases her hand instead.

“I’d love to buy you ladies a drink,” he merely says.

“That would be lovely,” Willow replies huskily. “How about we find a table?”

“Perfect.” His voice is rumbling, his eyes gleaming. “What would you both like?”

We both ask for wine, then Willow has my hand in hers again. She tugs on me as she winds her way through the crowd to find a table. I keep my eyes on the ground, following behind her and hoping we can just avoid Dax. I assume he’s here. He told us before he left he’d be really late tonight and for us not to wait up.

Admittedly, I was slightly bothered by that, and I’m not sure why. He owes me no allegiance, and he’s free to do what he wants.

It makes me wonder why in the hell I’ve got my head bowed in avoidance of him. I owe him nothing as well.

Just as I tip my head up, Willow comes to a crashing halt, causing me to run into her back. I freeze when I see Dax in front of her, imposingly blocking her path with his arms crossed over his chest. Bishop Scott stands just off to his left, watching with interest.

I know Bishop as he played with the Vipers—my brother’s former team—although I can’t say I know him well. Dax told me Bishop is his closest friend on the team, and Bishop and my brother were tight. His eyes cut briefly to me, and he gives me a warm smile.

I don’t smile back, instead bringing my gaze to Dax as I move to Willow’s side. He’s glaring at his sister, and she’s just grinning at him. She knew he’d be pissed we crashed, and I think part of her is relishing this.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” he asks. He doesn’t even spare me a glance.

Willow rolls her eyes at her brother. “That’s a stupid question, Dax. I’m here to party.”

“No, you’re not,” he replies with a solid shake of his head. He then points his finger to the door and says, “You both need to leave.”

Still… he doesn’t spare me any attention at all.

“I think not,” Willow replies cheekily. “Besides… your nice owner, Mr. Carlson, is buying us some drinks. It would be bad form to skip out on that and all.”

“Willow,” he growls, leaning into her. “I swear to God—”

“Is there a problem here?” Dominik Carlson asks as he comes to stand on the other side of Willow. He has a bland, expectant expression on his face, but I can tell he knows he just stepped into something tense and on the verge of blowing.

If I’d expected Dax to bow to the owner in any way, I was sorely mistaken. Dax merely slides his gaze to his head boss and replies, “I believe you’ve met my sister. And I was just explaining to Willow that this is a private party and she cannot be here.”

Mr. Carlson is surprised by that news. His eyebrows jet upward, and he tilts his head at Willow with a chiding expression on his face.

But he only spares her a moment before turning back to Dax. “Oh, come on. I think you can make an exception. And I was just going to take your sister and Miss Miles over to a table where we can enjoy a drink. I promise to protect them from any debauchery that’s been rumored to take place at these events.”

I can see Dax gritting his teeth, a muscle jumping at the base of his jaw. Lips pressed flat, all he can do is give a curt nod to Mr. Carlson in agreement of this plan, although I think he’d like to punch the guy out.