a declaration of strength, of dominance. He’s the big cat in the room. Or wolf, as the case may be.
Got it.
Loud and clear.
But, be warned, this little mouse also has sharp teeth.
‘A coffee machine?’ I reply derisively, fingers fluttering in the air, matching the inconsequence of my words, as though I’m used to receiving much more suitable gifts from my hordes of admirers. In truth, I appreciated every one of the things he sent, including the coffee machine, which I sold to help make my rent. ‘And now the weirdest of all, a job.’
I hope to high heavens that I’m not right about this.
I deserve a break. I need the money!
‘Am I to surmise you liked your previous position waitressing?’ He says “position” like it’s something dirty, and my spine stiffens instantly. His eyes dip from my face to my chest, and just as I think he’s about to twist the knife by making some comment about my boobs, he adds, ‘I much prefer your hair that way.’
What way? Like in one braid instead of two?’ Or could he be talking about my blonde wig? The wig I wasn’t wearing the night I met him. Could he have visited the Pussy Cat? I push aside the unpleasant thought. He can’t have, I know. I’d have noticed someone like him in there, and if he’d called on one of my nights off, it would’ve been marked on the board in the dressing room. There are always customers to be wary of, and the dancers in the Pink Cat would make sure everyone knew who to be cautious around. Often, the board would mention other customers of note.
Brad Pit lookalike. Handsy. Stingy. Not worth the time.
To be avoided at all costs.
Harold. Looks like a hobo, tips like a king.
Smart to show the man a little attention.
I try not to think what the board would say about Remy, mustering a reply instead.
‘Whether I liked waitressing or not doesn’t matter.’ My heels click angrily against the highly polished floor. ‘Because I lost my job the night I decided to play nurse to you.’
Why did I move closer? I could’ve pointed my finger at him from the other side of the room. Maybe because I wouldn’t be standing this close to him, remembering how good he smells or noticing the tiny scar through his eyebrow. I don’t need to be this close unless I really intend on slapping him, which isn’t me at all. I don’t let men get under my skin, not the cute ones and definitely not the expensive and dangerous ones. All I know is none of this reality makes sense, yet I draw closer still. From slapping distance to the almost kissing kind.
‘I didn’t know,’ he answers, sounding almost sincere. Almost.
‘I might’ve been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.’
His eyes narrow, verdant green turning almost black. ‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Put yourself in my place. And you’d better believe I wouldn’t be standing here if I’d known from the start this was some kind of game.’
‘I play no game.’ Annoyance flickers to life in his expression, fading just as fast.
‘I find that hard to believe. But what do I know? I thought you only spoke French.’
‘An assumption.’ His lips quirk in something that isn’t quite a smile. ‘After all, you never asked.’
‘I was told by the hospital staff!’ I try to temper my response without much success. ‘Hospital staff you lied to.’
Ah! This is why I needed to be close—so I could poke him in the chest. His broad, firm chest that I know to be the colour of caramel and covered in dramatic swirls of ink.
In an echo of that first night, Remy catches my finger, pressing my hand to the centre of his chest, and covering it with his own. Ridiculously, I wonder if Alice knows what’s lying under his shirt. How warm his skin is. How beautiful he is.
‘You’ll remember I had suffered a blow to the head. I probably came around speaking French. It is, after all, my mother tongue.’
The mention of his tongue in that stupid accent of his makes my blush deepen.
And yes, it is a stupid accent.
Stupid sexy.
‘I did not lie. You, on the other hand . . .’
‘What?’
‘Shall we start with your name?’
‘You are unbelievable,’ I mutter, pushing my hand solidly against his chest as my cheeks begin to prickle with annoyance.
‘Unlike you, who even made the doctor blush.’
‘It was necessary at that point.’ I glower back at him, his own gaze