Page 23 of The Killer Card

He averts his gaze and I can tell he’s thinking about his friend and whatever struggle Elias might equally be going through where Nelly is concerned. I turn to walk away but only make it a few steps before, “Wait!”

His hand catches my wrist, the heat of his full height looming over me like a blanket. Taking a breath- and a sip of wine- I turn back to him with casual indifference. “You don’t want to do anything, that’s fine. I understand the word no. But could we not just… I don’t know, talk?”

My brow rises. “Talk?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We clearly have a lot in common.” He gestures to the club, to my wristband and his. “What’s the harm in talking? Maybe even being friends?”

“Neither of us have a shortage of friends—”

“But what’s the harm in having one more?” He grins brightly, playfully nudging my shoulder. “Come on, Naomi. How many of your friends know you like to bully men into orgasms in your spare time?”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. He’s unbearably endearing, and against my better judgement I find myself bobbing my head. “I’ll think about it,” I tell him, which seems to be enough to bring the hope back into his eyes. He smiles wider, but I wave him off. “Goodnight, Gray.”

“Goodnight,” he says, adding under his breath, “Mi reina.”

Chapter Seven

Graham

“Why’d you say it like that?”

Naomi doesn’t look up from the magazine she’s flipping through in one of the hidden alcoves of The Cellar. She reaches for her martini, taking a long sip before saying, “Hello again, Gray. Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but…”

She lets herself trail off with a wave of her hand. As if she’s dismissing me. In her fucking dreams. Sucking at my teeth, I scootch closer to her on the couch. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Say what?” She asks with a roll of her eyes.

“That thing about the senator,” I remind her. “When I said I know who your dad is, you said I bet you do.” My eyes narrow when her lips quirk up in a smirk. “What the fuck were you implying?”

Naomi closes the magazine, finally meeting my eyes. “Tell me something, Gray,” she reaches for her martini again, resting her elbow on the back of the couch as she turns to face me. “Do you or do you not have a not so savory history with the law?”

I watch her throat work to swallow- fucking mesmerized- cocking my head. A slow smile spreads across my lips. “Naomi Mychal, did you look me up?”

“In the prison records.”

The smile drops from my face instantly. “Relax,” she shakes her head. “I didn’t look too far, and it was what? Twenty years ago?”

Which time? “Yeah…” I nod, taking a sip of my beer for just a chance to avert my gaze.

She chuckles under her breath, holding out her hand for a passing waiter. She orders another martini and a beer for me. The smirk returns to my face as I hand over my empty glass. Rubbing my hands together I watch her finish her gin.

“So, I guess you thought about my proposition to be friends?” Wow, I sound pathetic.

Naomi shrugs. “I figure talking to you can’t hurt. It’s not like we won’t have plenty of opportunity now.” She takes her fresh drink, passing mine over. “Speaking of which, how is Nelly’s training going?”

“Oh,” I shake my head after a swallow of beer, setting my glass on the low table. I mimic her posture, turning my body toward her, a leg resting on the couch between us. “Abysmal. For as much as you three can put away, she doesn’t know shit about alcohol.”

Naomi laughs. “What the fuck did you expect? She’s a fast learner not a virtuoso. But thank you.” She pats my knee and I can feel every single one of her fingers through my slacks. “For convincing Elias to hire her. Nelly’s parents have always been extremely overbearing, and her boyfriend’s family also act like they own her. This will be good for her, this little glimpse of independence.”

“You think she can do it?” I raise a brow. “Break away from her family and start a new life?”

She snorts. “Oh, no,” she shakes her head. “Not a fucking chance. That bitch owns seventeen pairs of designer shoes and has a slope named after her in Aspen. Being poor is not in the cards for Penelope Hastings. But maybe a hot, rich musician is?”

“Dios mío…” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She has a boyfriend—”

“Who sucks,” she establishes, as if that’s reason enough for Elias to break up their relationship. “Come on, you see them together. He’s hot—”

“You think Elias is hot?” Jealousy flares in me so fucking fast I can feel my skin turn green.