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He didn’t let me go. Instead, he asked, “Whose handiwork is that?”
“Handiwork?” I repeated, not understanding his question.
His gaze shifted down to my arm he was still holding, and before I knew it, he flipped it over, showcasing the bruises I had.
Irritated with his interrogation, I bit, “What can I say? I like it rough.” I yanked my arm away.
“Is that right, darlin’?” He swept the hair away from my cheek, and I yanked that away too. “What about the bruise you’re coverin’ up with your makeup and hair?”
I scoffed out, “Darlin’, if I wanted the third degree, I’d call my daddy.”
“If my daughter’s boyfriend was roughing her up, I’d?—”
“Do I look like the kind of girl who would let that happen?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to intimidate me. He had no clue who he was messing with.
“You got questions?” I mocked. “I got questions too.” Stepping toward him, I held my head high. “Do I look like the kind of girl who would let that happen?”
In a challenging tone, he spewed, “Do I look like the kind of man to fuck with?”
“You’re sniffing around my business, and I’m fucking with you?”
He nodded. “I don’t take kindly to men who hit women.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t take kindly to men who don’t know how to mind their own business.”
“You workin’ here for me makes you my business.”
I stepped closer to him. “Let’s get something straight. Your PR company hired me as a subcontractor. I work for myself, and don’t you ever forget that.” I eyed him up and down. “Darlin’.”
His eyes lit up with mischief.
I smirked, shrugging to purposely fuck with him. “I owe you no explanations. In fact, consider yourself lucky I even answered you. Now, if you’d graciously back the fuck up, we can get on with our morning. I have better things to do than stand here and play show-and-tell with our tattoos.”
Without hesitation, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You have a cross necklace on your forearm that has a dagger through it, and then you have these bows on the back of your thighs.” As if pushing my buttons, he lightly skimmed his fingers along the back of my thighs before he grazed the hem of my dress to my lower abdomen. “Then you have a snake here, and...” Skimming along the left side of my stomach, he added, “A butterfly trail here.” He lightly brushed the tips of his fingers on my collarbone. “Then there’s a date here in Roman numerals,” he rasped. “But the one on your back piques my interest the most.”
If he thought I was flattered, he was highly mistaken.
“How’s that for show-and-tell?” he baited before pulling away like he’d never been in my personal space to begin with.
I smiled at him. “Was that supposed to impress me? You think you’re the first guy to ever pull those lines on me? Come on, darlin’. I’m better than that. I’m not interested in sharing sad stories, Jameson. For the next few months, I’m just here to show your guests a good time. Nothing more, nothing less. If you think I’m going to fuck you, it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than your Sons of Anarchy persona to impress me. And to be completely honest, I’ve shaken the hands of men who make Jax Teller look like a Boy Scout.”
Backing away, I threw my backpack over my shoulder and gave him one last look before I turned and left.
When I reached the door of his club, I heard him shout, “Darlin’, this is far from over!”
I ignored him.
Fully aware he meant every word.
CHAPTER
SIX
LUKE
Another week, another day, another country.
