Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,29

a wave of nerves dancing in my blood stream—excitable nerves, exhilaration.

“Sorry for the delay,” I lie, placing the bottle of bourbon on his table and the glass with two ice cubes on a napkin before him.

Turning to leave, he barks out, “Pour.”

The husky, rich tone of his voice incites a nervous giddiness within me.

I should be intimidated.

He’s much older than me, I’d bet his thirties easily, and an air of fear surrounds him, like an invisible fire, keeping most people from even daring to look his way.

Not me, though.

I like the burn.

He has a dominance in his movement. His speech has a way of making you feel inferior to him. And in my fucked up, broken way, I like that too.

His thick lips cause heat to pulse in the lower part of my stomach. My eyes trace down his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

The suit he’s wearing is dark gray tonight and fits to perfection. Strong muscles show through the fabric, summoning the memory of the way the hard planes of his body felt pushed against me.

He’s reading a newspaper like it’s ten years ago despite having two smart phones placed on the table before him. I’m not sure why anyone would need two cell phones.

I pour two fingers worth of the tawny liquid, acutely aware the bottle costs more than my salary, willing my hand not to tremble and spill. “Did you want to eat?” I ask, licking my bottom lip to moisten the sudden dryness.

“Steak.”

His eyes move to mine before dropping to my lips, sending my pulse roaring.

“Rare. I like to see blood on my food.” He closes the paper discarding it on the table.

My lips part, a small puff of air pushing free. His eyes bore into me, loosening every part of my body. He releases me with a jerk of his chin, and I almost lose my footing when I back away to relay his order to our chef.

“You’re blushing,” Joelle gushes, nudging my side. “Did he say something to you?”

Glancing a quick look over my shoulder. I feel the room close in around me when I find his eyes still fixated on me, stripping me bare. I feel my pulse everywhere.

“No, just the usual.” I jerk a shoulder trying not to show how affected I am by him.

“That man,” she sighs, fanning herself.

“What man?” Simon asks, pulling open the fridge behind Joelle and taking out a tonic water. I advert my gaze, jotting down a scribble on my pad.

Smirking, Joelle croons, “That one.” Flitting her eyes in Mr. Leto’s direction.

Rolling his eyes, Simon scoffs, “You know the devil had a pretty face too, right?”

The devil, is that who he is?

Joelle’s glorious laugh brings a smile to my lips, “Don't worry, Si, we think you’re cute too.” She turns to me winking.

“Gee thanks.” He snorts, going back to his customer.

My gaze finds its way back to him.

Mr. Leto.

That man.

That devil.

I sense the moment Marcello enters. The way the atmosphere shifts and all eyes track his every move.

Dressed beautifully in a light suit, mirrored shades hiding his eyes, his towering height descends on the bar.

My pulse jumps in my neck when he smirks in my direction, skimming past me with a hand on my back while murmuring, “Bring me a glass, Preziosa.”

Every inch of my body is aware of the powerful men in my vicinity.

Taking a glass to the table, I place it down in front of Marcello, highly aware of Mr. Leto’s gaze on me.

He’s paying me more interest today than he has before, and it makes me a little on edge.

“Are you hungry?” I ask Marcello, meaning to ask if he’s staying for food. My brain isn’t working around them today.

The corner of his lips twitch as he devours me. “Ravenous,” he quips, his eyes dropping to my chest blatantly. My breath hitches, then accelerates.

“He will have the same as me,” Mr. Leto barks, drawing my attention to him. His eyes have darkened, narrowing on me.

“Yes, sir,” I say in a mocking tone. I turn to leave, hearing Marcello say, “She’s quite something.” My heart blooms.

“She’s a child,” Leto scoffs, dousing me in humiliation.

Embarrassment heats my cheeks as anger tears through my body. Was I a child when he was rubbing his cock into my back?

I linger near a table close by, pretending to wipe it down.

“Her body says otherwise.”

“The body is pointless if the mind can’t handle the things you do to it.”

My heartbeat skyrockets. What the hell does that