Beg Me
“Wow. Look at that suit he’s wearing,” Dasha coos.
“Incredible,” I say with sarcasm. “Why don’t you talk to him if you like him so much?”
Dasha ignores my question and continues doting. “Italian fibers. Look at the stitching,” she says, eyes changing expression. “You know what? I will talk to him. You talked me into it.”
“I didn’t actually mean—”
But she’s already walking towards him, inching the bottom of her dress up her thighs.
I grab a shrimp and take a big bite. Daniel walks over and says, “So, she took the bait?”
Although it shouldn’t, the question catches me off guard. “I wouldn’t call it bait, since he wasn’t looking at her,” I say.
“It’s the oldest trick in the book,” he smiles. “Give the friend all the attention. It makes the girl you want jealous. A guy over at Club 37 told me that once.”
I laugh. “Daniel, tha
t’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say. “You’ve got to stop listening to strangers or you’ll be alone forever.”
“Fine by me,” he says. “More time to myself.”
I’m barely listening to Daniel. I can’t stop glancing back at them. Dasha and the stranger with the dark eyes. He has a perfect chin, masculine cheekbones, and the body the size of two Army commandos.
A smile forms across his lips, and that handsome mouth shows off a set of sparkling, white teeth.
Okay, he’s fucking hot. There, I’ve admitted it.
Again.
“Oh, give me a break,” I mutter.
“What?” Daniel asks. “What did I say?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, walking back to the bar. “I’ll take a double vodka on the rocks,” I tell the bartender.
He nods and pours a drink. “It’s on the house,” he winks.
“Yeah, yeah.” I turn and drain half the glass.
The house is my family. Byron owns most of the business. But it’s my father who started the damn thing. Without him, Byron would be nothing.
I can’t worry about Byron now.
The image of that strange man, smiling at Dasha’s jokes is burned into my mind.
She comes walking back with a big smile on her face. By the time she makes it over, he retreats into the lobby.
Dasha laughs so loud people are turning to look at us.
“What did you do?” I ask in between breaths. “Did you get his number or what?”
“No,” she smiles. “I gave him yours.”
Oh, no…
Heart pounding against my chest, I feel my cheeks heat. “Did you just say what I think you just said?”
She nods.