AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And I told you I’m not on the menu.” My smile’s starting to crack. I need to be careful.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asks me. If I have to guess, I’d say he’s somewhere in his twenties. Old enough to know what his money can do and blasé enough to try to use it however he wants. Not as refined as most of the men this club gets on a nightly basis.
“Sir, I’m not interested.”
He taps the counter. “Come on. How much? A thousand? Ten thousand? I can keep going—”
This guy obviously won’t take no for an answer, so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, something that, every once in a while, makes men stop and think—because assholes like this only respect other men: “I have a boyfriend. I don’t think he’d be too happy to hear you’ve been propositioning me.”
The way this asshole smiles after that tells me he doesn’t respect other men, either.
Hey, I said it sometimes works. Not always. For some men, there isn’t a word in the world that means no.
He starts to say something else, but I turn my head to the side. My gaze settles on a man sitting by himself in the corner of the club. I don’t know if he’s waiting for someone, or if he’s simply here to drink his worries away. I think he’s drinking a vodka tonic—so I start to make another, an idea forming in my head as I tune this motherfucker out.
I don’t take the drinks to the tables; the club has waiters that do that. Still, if it’ll get this man off my back, then I’ll abandon my post and take a refill to my new boyfriend for the night.
“I could give you the city,” he’s busy saying with a sleazy smile on his face. “So why don’t you dump that boyfriend of yours and—”
My new boyfriend’s refill is done, and I pick up the glass and say, “Why don’t I ask him what he thinks? He’s right over there.” This time, when I smile at the asshole, it’s not a customer service smile. It’s a smirk, a warning that he’s stepped too far.
But I can tell he doesn’t believe me, because his eyebrows lift and he waits.
Shit. Guess I really have to do this. Here’s hoping it works and I don’t get fired before our target gets here.
Holding my head up high, I leave the area behind the bar and stroll through the club. I walk around half a dozen tables and booths until I reach Mr. Loner in the corner. We meet eyes the moment I set the drink down in front of him, and it’s only because my back is to the guy at the bar that I give this guy a sheepish smile.
“Sorry to bother you. I know this is a little weird, but that guy at the bar won’t leave me alone, so I told him you were my boyfriend,” I say to the man. “Don’t worry about your tab tonight. It’s on the house. Please don’t get me fired.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them, mostly because as I continue to stare into this man’s black eyes, I realize just how strikingly attractive he is.
Like, sex on two legs attractive. Hotter than sin with thick, black hair and a strong, wide jaw. He’s so sexy the semi-bewildered look he gives me at first quickly gives way to a smolder.
Yeah, the dude is smoldering. It’s almost enough to knock me off my feet.
“Again,” I whisper, “I’m sorry about this.”
The man doesn’t say anything right away, but he does lean around his booth so he can see the man at the bar. Something changes the moment the two men lock eyes even though they’re fifty or so feet away from each other. Is that… shock on the asshole’s face? I can’t tell.
When the man looks back at me, the corner of his lips curl into a smirk I can only describe as devilish. “Better make it believable, then.”
Before I know what’s happening, the stranger takes me by the wrist and pulls me down onto his lap. His other hand grabs my neck like it was always meant to be there. His semi-smirking mouth crashes down upon mine, and I’m so caught off-guard that I don’t know what’s happening.
I mean, I know he’s kissing me, but I don’t know why. Why would he go along with it? Why would he go this far to make the man at the bar believe he’s my boyfriend? In what world…
Anything else I might’ve thought fades in my mind when I realize just how great of a kiss it is. Fast, hard, the kind of kiss that, hand necklace or not, takes you by the throat and forces you into submission. A kiss like this makes you instinctively want more. It sets your world on fire and makes you feel everything for the first time.
Honestly, the kiss is over way too soon, and yet I’m still breathless when he pulls his mouth off mine. His gaze is half-lidded as he watches me with amusement twinkling in his dark eyes. “Do you think that was enough to scare your would-be admirer away?” The way he whispers the question, it’s like he’s telling me he wants to lay me down on the table and fuck my brains out—and my body reacts as if he said the latter.
Which makes no sense, because I don’t know this guy from the next.
I turn my head slightly, just enough to see the bar—and in doing so I realize the man’s hand is still around my neck, his other still on my wrist. I’m literally sitting on this guy’s lap, a freaking stranger, and even though it feels a little bizarre, it also feels kind of nice.
Okay, really nice.
“He’s gone,” I say when I don’t see the jerk at the bar anymore. In fact, I don’t see him anywhere in the club. It’s like he saw us kiss and literally ran away.
Huh. That’s weird.
What else is weird? The fact that I swear every single pair of eyes in the club is now on us. It’s like we became the show or something, that no one can believe their eyes.
