Of someone, she thought.
The cut of a man’s jaw.
The sharp lines of his suit.
The glint of hair whenever the lights dipped to red.
If she hadn’t been standing there oblivious to everything around her as she continued to stare unabashed, she wouldn’t have believed he was here, of all places.
He was an international criminal from what Orion had told her, and one that now seemed intent on ruining her, but men like him didn’t have time for nights out like this.
Had she not been sure that was him sitting there, she would have wagered he was off somewhere, plotting more of her downfall with Paxton and not giving her more thought than that.
But there he sat.
Watching her.
She should have turned away, pretended as if she hadn’t noticed him and gone on about her night because if he was here, then it was quite clear he had come for her.
Instead, she felt frozen in place, watching him watch her.
At least until he flicked two fingers at her in a salute of sorts. Even as her face flushed, she shook her head once and finally forced herself to turn away, breaking the spell he had her under.
Tapping Samantha’s shoulder, she pointed in the direction of the restrooms and hurried off that way before she could ask any questions.
She just needed a second to wrap her mind around the fact that Uilleam was here, and she was a little more than tipsy. She was off her game.
This was supposed to be her night off—one where she didn’t have to think about why she was here and the responsibility she had at work.
She needed to sober up.
Her brain was foggy with alcohol, and by the time she made it into the restroom and stood in front of the mirror, it almost felt as if she was coming down.
Yet when she actually looked at her reflection, she didn’t look like herself.
Her hair wasn’t tamed with every strand combed into place.
Her makeup was a touch heavier than she would have worn around the office.
This version of her was practically a stranger.
Dragging in a sobering breath, she tried to right her appearance as best as she could with the other girls bustling around her.
The door opened suddenly, a huddle of women walking in, the restroom becoming quite full quite quickly.
Karina stepped away from the mirror to give another girl her spot, moving toward the door when she brushed by a girl on accident. “Oh, pardon me.”
“Oh my God, are you from London?” the girl asked with genuine excitement, though the slight slur of her words gave away her level of intoxication.
Her first thought was to correct her.
Burford, she would say. A small little English town that very few people knew about. But right as it was on the tip of her tongue, she remembered who she was—who she was supposed to be.
And Karina Ashworth, the journalist at The Gazette Post, was no one from nowhere, United States.
And that Karina wasn’t supposed to have an accent.
Accents were something a person remembered.
“There’s a boy in my class who transferred from Oxford,” another girl said. “I could literally listen to him talk all day.”
As the conversation dissolved into who the mysterious boy was, Karina slipped away, thankful she had got out of answering, remembering to keep a firmer check on the way she spoke.
But she came up short when she saw the man waiting in the wings.
The same one who had been at the gala with Uilleam. Except tonight, he wasn’t in a suit. If anything, his already massive frame looked bigger, more imposing somehow, in the dark jeans he wore and the scuffed boots on his feet.
It wasn’t until her heels clicked against the concrete floors did he finally look up and directly at her, making it clear she was the one he had come for.
“You work for him, don’t you?” she asked, keeping her voice level.
He shrugged. “Depends on the day.”
That made no sense at all to her. “And today?”
“I do.”
“What does he want?” Karina asked, figuring there was a reason he had sent this man to seek her out, but as that thought hit her, she realized she already knew the answer.
Her.
He wanted her.
“Who are you?”
He seemed to consider the question a moment. “Call me Skorpion.”
“Do you have an actual name?”
“Not one I’ll be giving a journalist.”
Fair enough.
“Fine, take me to him.”
The last thing on her mind was the job.
Every step she took behind Uilleam’s guard wasn’t because she was going along with this so that she could glean new information that might help her investigation. Rather, she wanted to give in to her own curiosity.
And since a part of her was drunk enough not to consider whether this was a bad idea or not, she hadn’t hesitated in going along with the man when he’d pushed off the wall and steered her through the club.
The bouncer standing at the rope that sectioned off the private stairwell from the rest of the dance floor took one look at Skorpion walking in front of her and stepped aside, not asking a single question about her sudden presence there.
At first, all she saw was the strobe lights that grew bigger and brighter as she climbed the stairs until she reached the second level, but as the song changed to something darker, the lights all changed to one color—red.
Just as it had been when she had walked in earlier.
It was hard to ignore the rapid beat of her heart, or how she felt out of breath the moment she saw him. His guard had stopped just ahead, gesturing for where she needed to go as if the action was necessary. Her gaze immediately sought out Uilleam the moment she was up here.
He was hard to miss.
His suit jacket was missing, but his waistcoat was still present, the sleeves of the sky blue shirt he wore beneath rolled up to his elbows. One arm was draped across the back of the sectional he sat on—as if he were a king on his throne observing his subjects.
It almost felt as if he was in control of everything and everyone around him.
As if they, her included, were all here to serve at his leisure.
The arrogance of it all shouldn’t have been appealing.
It shouldn’t have made her want to draw closer just to see what would happen.
The thought was tempting—a temptation she never thought she would feel.
This was the last thing she should have been feeling considering everything, including her temporary demotion at her job that had grown to mean more to her than she thought possible.
But as if her feet had a mind of their own, she found herself drawn to him anyway.
“Did you follow me here?” she called over the music, stopping several feet in front of him, knowing the distance would help her think more clearly.
“Perhaps you followed me here, and I’m merely taking advantage,” he said back, his smile easy. “You have been asking questions about me, yes?”
“What makes you think that?” she asked, keeping her voice neutral.
“Your date from the other night. I thought he looked familiar.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him,” she said with a cant of her head. “Jealous?”
“Curious,” he corrected, then amended, “but the two often go hand in hand.”
He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her to come closer.
Tempting.
So very, very tempting.
“I’m good where I am.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
He laughed even as he shrugged, shifting to stand in a move far too fluid for a man to have pulled off. He walked over to her, and it was as if he had his own force field the way others seemed to move out of his way without being prompted.
Instead of backing away, Kari
na planted her feet and crossed her arms in front of her, though it made very little defense against him when he got close.
His hair was messier tonight, and even the scruff along his jaw was more prominent—it was a shame that both only managed to make him more attractive.
Maybe she wouldn’t have felt this unexplainable draw if he’d been the opposite.
He waited until he was close enough that she couldn’t miss the smile on his face as he said, “Trust is overrated.”
She wouldn’t dignify that with a response. “You obviously wanted to see me,” she said with a pointed glance over at his associate. “What do you want?”
His smile tipped a little higher, but instead of answering her question, he extended his hand between them, palm up. He didn’t tell her to take it or even take her hand himself.
The choice was hers.
She took it.
And God, the decision shouldn’t have been an easy one.
It was the alcohol, she reasoned. Tequila could make anyone pliable if they drank enough of it.
It surely wasn’t because she felt drawn to him.
It couldn’t be because she was already anticipating the moment his fingers closed around hers.
But it was, even as she lied to herself that it wasn’t.
With the gentlest of pressure, he drew her closer to him, and with each step she took forward, he took one back until she was where he originally wanted her, but instead of sitting, he turned them so her back was against the wall near the sectional and he was all she could see.
The music pulsed through the wall, vibrating against her back, sending her nerve endings racing with sensation. For all she paid attention to the rest of the room, they might as well have been the only ones there.
Resting one hand on the wall beside her head, Uilleam leaned in close, his lips nearly brushing her ear. She couldn’t bring herself to care that he had probably felt her shiver.
“You’re becoming a problem for me, Karina Ashworth.”
The logical side of her knew those words were meant as a threat just as much as an observation. That if she didn’t back down from this, he would make her regret it, but he didn’t sound upset at the idea of her interference with his business.
Quite the opposite.
Swallowing, she tried to ignore the way his cologne invaded her senses. “I’m trying to do my job.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter, the sound dark in her ear. “I could say the same.”
“Except I’m trying to help the innocent.”
“No one is ever truly innocent, Karina. You’d do well to remember that.”
He was right.
Especially when it came to him.
But while everyone had a gray moral line, there was no line with him, so she had heard.
Uilleam leaned back just far enough that he could meet her gaze, searching her expression as if he might find the answers he was looking for within it.
“How much would it take for you to walk away?” he asked, his gaze dropping to her mouth when she drew in a breath.
If she were a betting woman, she would have guessed he wanted to kiss her.
And a part of her wanted him to.
Desperately.
Even as the urge made zero sense.
The longer she stood there, the more she really, really wanted him to.
He was a man who had done awful things for worse reasons, yet she was drawn to him all the same.
“Nothing,” she told him and meant it. “No amount of money in the world.”
He sighed with a slight shake of his head, though she was sure the answer she gave was exactly what he’d anticipated. “You’re stubborn.”
“You don’t intimidate me, Uilleam.”
“I haven’t begun to try,” he answered, voice still pleasant.
She lifted her hands and placed them against his chest, prepared to push him away just to give herself some room to think, but it was the wrong move to make because as she was touching him, that gave him unspoken permission to touch her in return.
He caught her hands before she could push him away, holding her wrists in one hand as he dragged them down his chest until they were firmly held between their bodies.
It was impossible not to feel the wall of muscle that was his chest or even the dips and contours of his abdomen that were far too distinct.
This time, it wasn’t the tequila that brought a flush to her cheeks.
When she attempted to move away from him, he held fast, keeping her in place, giving her no choice but to remain there.
“Be careful,” he warned her.
She arched a brow. “Or?”
“Is this truly the hill you want to die on?”
“I could ask you the same question. Would you really prefer I out you and whatever it is you do for a man like William Paxton? Is he worth all that to you?”
“You would never get the opportunity, poppet.”
“Yet, I’ve made it this far.” Now, it was her turn to lean into him, tilting her head back to look up at his face. “If you’re really the man you claim to be, what’s stopping you?”
He caught her face in his free hand, holding her still and facing him.
The fire sparked in his eyes, molten and hot. Pinning her there.
The chill that had swept through her before now burned something hotter and pooled between her thighs. His closeness only ratcheted the feeling up further.
“Let’s hope your allure doesn’t wear off then, shall we?”
With that parting remark, he finally retreated, giving her room to take a proper breath without feeling as if she was drowning in him.
The heartbeat’s time that passed seemed to stretch on as they stared at one another, oblivious and uncaring about anything happening around them.
Did he feel it?
That inexplicable yet undeniable draw she felt?
Curiosity that certainly didn’t feel healthy, and not at all to do with Paxton?
She wanted to believe it had nothing to do with the fact she found him interesting.
The tequila, she told herself again. Because that was all it was.
That was all it could ever be.
She now had every opportunity to leave, but she stood there. Watching as he crossed the room and sank back onto his temporary throne. She also knew that if she turned to leave at that moment, he wouldn’t stop her.
Watch her leave, perhaps. Maybe even have his associate follow her out. But he had no intentions of moving again.
He’d made his point.
But that didn’t mean he wanted her to go, not with the way his left fist kept flexing as if he had to make a concentrated effort to keep his distance.
And that realization sparked an epiphany in her head.
“It’s not all about the story for you, though, is it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as he had done, not backing down from the fierceness of his stare but rather feeling emboldened by it.
“This is the second time you’ve sought me out in person. Can others say the same, or am I special?”
“I usually don’t play with my food, but”—he shrugged, a lazy smile forming—“it’s entertaining, to say the least.”
“Everyone’s afraid of you,” she said, thinking of the way the others had responded to his presence at the dinner or even Orion’s hushed tones when no one was even around to hear him. “But I’m not.”
“You’ll learn to be.”
She voluntarily walked closer to him, feeling the weight of his gaze as it dropped to her legs. “No, I don’t think that’s what you want at all.”
Instead of going to him, she kept moving forward around the sectional, now making him come to her, and oh, there were no words to describe the satisfaction that thrummed through her when he did just that.
He wasn’t the only one who held power in this room.
“It’s why you came here tonight, isn’t it? Because you wanted to see if you had managed to scare me
off yet. Are people really that easily subdued by you?”
In her quest to get answers out of him, she hadn’t realized she had been backing herself into a corner, but he did. He crowded her until they were in the same position as earlier.
“Yes.”
“To which question?”
He seemed to think about it a moment. “Both.”
“Does Paxton know?”
He arched a brow.
“Does he know the game you’re playing with his life?”
He didn’t seem to be paying attention to her question, rather his eyes had dropped to her mouth and lingered there. This time, she didn’t have to wonder what he would do next.
He kissed her as if it was the first and last thing he wanted to do.
As if he had to.
Her surprise melted away as quickly as it took her hands to fist in the front of his waistcoat. She should have been pushing him away and putting more distance between them—she needed to remember who she was and what was at stake.
At the very least, remember who he was.
Yet it wasn’t enough to stop her from kissing him back—to breathe him in as much as she possibly could before this moment ended. But Uilleam seemed content to drink his fill, pressing in tight against her, his tongue stroking over hers, then pulling her bottom lip between his teeth.
Never in her life had she been kissed quite like this before.
Like the world began and ended where their lips met.
Time was a construct. One second, she was fighting to get closer to him, and in the next, he was squeezing her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist, the skirt of her dress quickly creeping up her thighs.
But she still couldn’t bring herself to care.
Not when everything she knew was wrong felt like this.
And then for one, perfect second, they were flush, and she could feel the hard, heavy length of his erection pressed right up against her core.
A breathless gasp escaped her as the throb between her legs only grew worse. She knew the moment Uilleam felt it too because the sound he made wasn’t nearly so breathless.
It was nothing short of a growl—a low, guttural sound that had her thinking if he wanted to just rip her panties off right then and there, she wouldn’t hesitate to let him.
But before the moment could get away from her, someone cleared their throat loud enough to pierce the haze of lust she had fallen under.
White Rabbit: The Rise (The Kingmaker Saga Book 1) Page 10
