Page 17 of Dangerous Attraction

He chuckles and takes a step toward me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump."

Still trying to catch my breath, I wave my hand in front of me and shake my head.

"It's okay," I tell him, hands now on my hips as I straighten back up. "No need to apologize."

He shoots me a blinding smile, then motions his head toward the double doors behind me.

"You heading inside?" he asks.

I nod, gulping as I awkwardly shuffle around, nerves eating away at my insides.

"Yeah… I should be."

He moves around me, walking up a couple of steps, then offers me his hand.

"I can walk you inside if you'd like?"

My brows raise in surprise.

To avoid having to take his hand, I hold the strap of my bag with one hand, shove the other in my back pocket, then nod.

"Sure. Lead the way."

Following after him, I take a deep breath before entering the bar area, then release it immediately when I see the room is mostly empty.

"I'm pretty sure Prez will want to see you first thing," the blond man says, moving around the pool tables and over to the stairs.

The hairs on my neck prickle, and the weight of someone's gaze burns into my skin.

A shiver runs down my spine, and although I'm tempted to, I don't dare turn around to find who's looking at me.

Although the man in front of me seems nice, and Liam assured me that everyone here is respectful and not as bad as I've heard, I can't help but have some doubts.

When you've been hurt and betrayed by men in your life who were meant to love and protect you, it becomes second nature to be wary and untrusting of every other man you meet after that.

They're good at putting on a front, of being deceitful, and most of them have learnt that their words have power. They'll take their time to make you feel secure and comfortable, and then—when they've got you in the palm of their hand—they pull the rug from underneath you and show their true colors, obliterating the image you created of them in your head and upending your life.

Well, that's my experience, anyway.

When we reach the top of the stairs, we enter the communal living area, which is also thankfully empty.

The door across from us opens, and Callux walks out, his eyes darting from me to the man beside me.

He crosses his thick, tattooed arms over his chest, then leans his body against the door frame.

"Luxe, what are you doing?"

The man beside me rubs at the back of his neck. A hue of pink coloring his cheeks as he looks down at the floor.

"I was just helping her out, showing her up here," he says, shrugging.

When Callux frowns, my stomach twists. I step forward, drawing his attention to me.

"He was just being helpful," I add, unsure why I'm jumping in to defend a man I don't even know.

The older, bearded man smirks and nods.