Exodus (The Ravenhood)

“You’re The Frenchman.”

He replies with a faint dip of his chin. His hostile gaze blistering my skin with contempt. “You mind turning down that fucking calling card?” Each of his words curled by the thick foreign lilt, confirming I knew that much about him.

Dominic rarely, if ever, spoke French, which raised my suspicions about the nickname. But the man standing before me, and the air about him suits.

A drop of sweat slides down his temple as I soak him in. Compliments to the tailor who cloaked him in a suit fit for a king. It clings to him, defining pure masculinity. Though his expression is hostile, it’s his face that has me scrambling for words while my tongue dries up. This man is, without a doubt, the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Stunned, I can’t help but drink in the thick, inky color of his hair that’s styled back in inches long waves, not one out of place. The sharp outline of his jaw encases his flawless bronzed face. Below his thick, winged brows lies a natural black outline of thick lashes, which enhances the mix of orange-yellow flames dancing their way down my profile. His dominant nose wide, long, and swollen by the flare of his nostrils. His mouth more evidence his creator took his time, his lush lips symmetrical perfection. But it’s the anger that seeps from his pores that has me battling the wits his unexpected appearance is stealing.

He’s the devil you are never supposed to meet, dressed in Armani.

And a clear threat to me.

Snatching the remote from the table beside me, I furiously tap the volume button, sputtering, while searching for my bikini top. “I didn’t…k-know it was you. I d-didn’t know there was a you.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” His tone is acid, spilling from his lips into the back of my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Some fucking siren you are, Cecelia.

I dart my eyes around the deck, searching fruitlessly for my top before I cross my arms over my chest, humiliation burning my face. “Then why bother to make your existence known to me now?”

“Because apparently, I can’t do anything without those two imbeciles fumbling dick over head for—” his lips peel back from his teeth. Tack sharp canines appear due to his…snarling?

“The enemy?” I shake my head. “I’m not your enemy.”

His jaw ticks, his gaze littered with judgment. “No, you just benefit from Daddy’s filthy money.”

“Oh, good, that’s the look of disgust in your eyes. I was worried it was something else.”

“I don’t fuck little girls,” he draws out, his accent aiding in his condemnation. “And I’m fully aware you’re fucking your way through my crew.”

It stings, but I don’t flinch. “Only two of them, and from where I’m standing, it looks like you could benefit from a little side action yourself. You’re awfully tense.”

Irrefutably annoyed, he shoves his hands in his slacks. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want answers. I want to know my father is safe.”

“I can’t guarantee that.”

“But you won’t be the one to hurt him?”

His hesitation has my hackles rising.

“Physically, no. In every other way that matters, yes.”