AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
Jac Miller’s pictures don’t do him justice. He’s fucking spectacular in person. Tall, muscled, tattooed from the hand that’s resting loosely on the glass in front of him to his neck, which peeks out from his collared shirt. And he has a shit ton of thick silver rings.
They’re expensive, and they fit in with the young, elegant rich man look he has. One that barely hides the feral beast within.
I can smell it, beneath the elegant combination of spiced honey and lavender and leather; something dark and depraved that strokes against my senses.
He knows exactly the effect he has on women and the raised brow—slight, deliberately innocuous, completely insulting—says it all.
A demon who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything.
One thing that gets me as he gives me the once over is the tang of violent hate. Not at me. At something that just might include himself.
I don’t usually come to the New Town quarter of Delacroix. It’s where people who are rich, famous and gorgeous come to be seen. The hottest bars, the coolest clubs, the priciest chef-of-the-moment eateries.
Love the limelight, overpriced drinks, and the latest fashion and you’ll love New Town.
Suits Jac down to the ground.
I stick out.
“The legendary MG ‘The Invisible Cat’ Rossi sent his dowdy assistant?” he asks in a voice that’s all butter and heat.
“And Jacques Miller was stupid enough to think MG’s a man?” I ask.
A small, nasty smile appears, coated in that innocuous civility.
I return it. I know exactly what I look like in my chocolate suit and beige, polka-dotted silk shirt with the girly bow.
My hair’s smooth, pinned back, lips painted Politician Nude, a pale beigy pink that’s all wrong for me and guaranteed to never offend.
He cataloged, filed, and dismissed me. Right up to my comment.
I can almost see him recalibrate. “Let’s cut to the fucking chase. I don’t give a shit what’s between your legs. The only thing I care about is if you can do the job.”
“I’ll need more money,” I say.
“I’m paying you sixty fucking million.”
I offer my wet-handed politician smile. “Expenses.”
He raises a brow.
I don’t take a seat and he doesn’t offer one.
“Expenses?” he asks. “How so?”
“You say your…rival has your property. You’re one of the Q and yet you need me to get it back. That tells me you don’t know where it is, exactly. You don’t want to be associated with its transfer of ownership, and you don’t want to involve the authorities,” I say. “So…expenses.”
“It’s the Heart—”
“I don’t care if it’s the fucking Salvator Mundi. I need expenses.” At his frown I add, “The world’s most expensive painting. Or to frame it in jewels, the crown jewels or just the old Hope Diamond. I need expenses.”
When he doesn’t answer, I start to turn because I’m willing to walk out the damn door of this upscale and trendy bar.
“Can you get it?” he asks.
I take a breath and look at him. “Once I know what I’m dealing with and where Agnossio has it, yes.”
