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Fuck.
I weave through the dancing people and try to find a way outside for some air. I don’t even know if Hendrick allows people outside this horrible display of wealth.
There’s an actual bar set up at the back of the ballroom, and I’m assuming, there’s another in the great room across the foyer. I make a beeline for the bar and get myself an old fashioned, downing half of it quickly.
What I fucking need to do is case the place, make my way upstairs and see when I can slip to the third floor. If I can.
Last thing I need is to be caught up in the toxic pissing contest of Hendrick and Jac. If Hendrick saw me talking to him…
Forcing myself to breathe, I take a sip. Talking to someone isn’t a crime, and while it felt like I was there forever with him, I think it was only a few minutes.
He wouldn’t have seen Jac finger me—Jac at least blocked that from anyone’s view.
I want to say how dare he. And yeah, I do. He took deliberate liberties. But that slips up a little in my own head’s court of law when I have to admit I liked it. He made me wet. So did Hendrick, but Jac put his hands on me, fingers in me, and I would have come if he’d kept going.
Finding him a horrible person and getting turned on by him are two things that can exist together, and—
“I believe you owe me a dance, Elena.”
I breathe in, close my eyes, letting Hendrick’s voice stroke over my edges. And I find a smile and turn. “Do I?”
“Being the host is like being the fucking birthday boy.”
“I think,” I say, as he holds out his hand, “that’s your desperation talking.”
Finishing my drink, I hand him the glass, which he immediately passes to a waiter.
“Do they follow you around?” I ask.
This time he grins and it’s real. Deadly, dangerous, devastating. There are more D words I could throw in, but those three will do. “Probably. They probably think I’ll execute them all if they fuck up.”
His hand’s still held out to me.
“Will you?” I ask, eyeing it.
“I’m not sure.” The warmth of amusement runs hot through his voice. “But you could plead a case while dancing with me.”
That earns a laugh, and I put my hand in his, letting him twirl me into the crowd. I can feel the burn of Jac’s gaze, see the narrow-eyed look as I spin past him. I shift my attention from him and up to the darkly handsome features of Hendrick.
He’s in a suit, white shirt, white tuxedo vest, white tie, with thin checkers of light gray running through it, and the suit’s slightly darker than his wallet. He’s insanely hot.
How two men can be so alluring, so dangerous, so different and yet so similar at the same time is beyond me.
By same I mean the ruthlessness. The games. And I’m betting Hendrick is as much of an asshole as his boyfriend, Jac. He just hides it better.
That thought doesn’t stop me wanting to lick him again, press my lips to his, taste his skin, breathe in that scent, indulge in his heat and see if he can finger me as well as—or better than—Jac.
Shit.
What the fuck’s wrong with me?
“No pleading, huh?” His voice is a deliberate tease. “Death to All Waitstaffis your motto?”
“I’ve got a T-shirt and everything.”
His hand is electric as it slides down the bare skin of my back, right down to the borderline of inappropriate, and I swoon a little as liquid heat bursts to life in my blood and down between my thighs.
Hendrick eases me in close. “A little warm?”
