“Ah, so it is. I’m sure he won’t mind,” he nodded and slid in next to her. She turned half away but cut her eyes back several times, measuring whether she could be more insistent and get him to abandon the seat.
Winsor didn’t conceal his appreciation and let his eyes stroke long lines from her flanks to her bare shoulders. “That’s a striking gown,” he purred.
She flinched back and snorted disgustedly through her nose, tossing her straw-colored hair over one shoulder. Winsor had an immediate and precise image of holding her by her hair until she stopped thrashing and learned to like it.
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude but—”
“I’m just trying to have a drink with the most beautiful woman here,” he said, holding her eyes. She faltered, looking around nervously as though maybe he was talking about someone else. Her long hands plucked at the tablecloth.
“Where are you from?” he asked, curious.
“Here,” she replied with a pout.
“No,” he shook his head, chuckling. She cringed at his obvious dismissal. “I don’t think so. Where are you from?”
Her eyes narrowed and she stared him up and down. Quirking one eyebrow, he stood up from his chair and snapped his lapels to give her a better look. Handmade suit: check. Diamond cufflinks the size of Yahtzee dice: check. Somewhere around the Italian spectator shoes, a light went on in her eyes.
“You know what, this is is a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. Excuse me,” she muttered, leaning away.
He caught her elbow in his palm. Her skin was soft and thick like velvet. A gentle pull and she was closer and he could smell her hair: something simple, store-bought.
“Seriously,” he growled hungrily, “where did you come from?”
Her eyes flickered up to meet his and she stared at him, half-frightened, half-outraged. He could see her pulse fluttering between her collarbones. It would be such a simple thing to just lean down… He doubted she would resist for long…
But then she was gone, somehow slipping out of his hand and then remaining there, just out of reach. He resisted the immediate urge to drag her back and simply smiled.
Oh this. This is going to be fun.
“We’re from Millslake,” she said with her gaze averted, eyebrows raised pridefully.
“We?” he repeated.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the ring, pointing with her chin. He followed the gesture and saw Odin standing there like he owned the place. His arms crossed heavily over his broad chest as he stonily ignoring Orion pacing back and forth.
“Ah. Your boyfriend?”
“What?” she shot back, suddenly glaring at him with bright, flashing green eyes. “No, not my boyfriend. He’s a jackass.”
Winsor raised his eyebrows as though he was in on the joke. After a moment she softened, letting her shoulders go down. A small, embarrassed smile played at the corners of her lips.
“Some of the best fighters are… intense personalities,” he suggested.
She nodded, a few strands of golden hair floating around her face. “Oh he’s an intense personality.”
“But is he a good fighter?” he asked, edging closer to her again. She backed away but not nearly as far as before.
“He’s… very strong. Personality and otherwise.”
Winsor breathed slowly, knowing she could feel the air. Her shoulders arched just slightly.
“Excellent,” he agreed, nodding. “I like to think that my sponsorship was well-placed.”
Her mouth opened in a pretty oval that would perfectly fit two of his fingers.
Or my cock, if I pushed.
“No,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t…”
“Orion said it was all taken care of,” he said, acting as though he didn’t understand. The emotions that flitted across her features animated her from within. He felt like with a little practice, he would be able to read her like a movie screen.
“Aug— Odin doesn’t… Well he doesn’t want to feel like he owes anybody. I can’t believe he would—”
“Of course he would,” Winsor answered dismissively, watching her. For just a moment, he thought he saw confusion and then something else. Disappointment? “Everyone has a price.”
She nodded slowly, as though calculating a long list of debts and assets.
“Well, he is worth every penny, I am sure,” she said with a resolved sigh. “And down there is Bryce, my brother.”
“A family business. I approve.”
She shook her head. Her lips opened and closed again.
Jesus, it’s like she’s begging me to do it.
“This isn’t our business,” she shot back finally. “It’s just… temporary.”