Lured (Team Zero #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,5
ever invented. I don’t know why people prefer alcohol to this heaven. There’s an odd taste in it. It’s not bad or anything, just a bit weird. It must be this pub’s specialty.
“What brings you to London?” The bartender continues talking to me. It’s empty here. There’s only a couple who are talking in a hushed tone at the back table and an Asian-looking man who is drinking a beer and sighing.
“Are you half-British?” he asks.
“Why would you think that?”
“You don’t have a tragic accent like most of the French who come here.”
“Hey!” I can’t help feeling defensive even though I keep the light tone he addressed me with. “British people have a horrible French accent, too.”
“Touché, love.” He laughs. “So are you half-British?”
“No. I’m half-Arabic.” I take another sip of coffee. “My mother is North African from Morocco.”
He raises an eyebrow and his gaze trails over my blond hair, green eyes, and pale complexions. “You have no Arabic traits, love.”
“You know, not all Arabs have olive skin.” I wish I had one. No amount of lying on the beach managed to tan me. “My mother is Caucasian. Most of her family are French-born and bred.”
I sigh. If only we had any family I can visit in Casablanca.
Living my entire life in Marseille is ought to drive anyone mad.
“Hope London is to your liking?” he asks with a gleam in his bright blue eyes. Then, he stares behind me. His smile disappears and his eyebrows draw together.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand in attention. A strange awareness digs beneath my skin, forming goosebumps. I gulp the mouthful of coffee. Even without looking back, I know. I just know that Dominic has arrived.
The easy-going bartender nods and trudges to the other side of the bar.
Warmth envelops me. Literally. A hard chest flushes against my back. I clutch the cup of coffee tighter as his hot breath tickle my ear, just like earlier. “You changed the shorts.”
He sounds disapproving and slightly irritated.
I swallow and lift a shoulder. I could’ve told him that I spilt juice on my short, but for an unexplainable reason, I don’t. I want to gauge his reaction. It fills me with both dread and excitement.
“I see.” He pulls back and finally offers me a view of him as he stands on my side. One hand is in his pocket while the other lies casually on the bar.
He’s in the same suit from this morning. Only now, he lost the tie. The first few buttons are undone, and a few fine, dark hairs peek out. The semi-casual look and the way his white shirt strains against his chest twists my stomach with an abnormal hunger.
“You like defying me, Camille?” There’s something about the spark in his eyes that draws me in like those sirens drew the fisherman. Now I know what it feels like to be enchanted.
I shrug again. “Maybe.”
His lips curve into a smirk, and it’s nothing like the full-of-shit one. This one shows his true self; the devil’s minion. “We should rectify that.”
“What do you intend to do about it?” Dieu. I’m flirting with a sociopath.
“The question is.” He leans forward and places his hand on the edge of my stool. He’s not touching me, but the charged energy almost suffocates me. “Are you ready for what I intend to do, Camille?”
“Oui… I mean, yes.” I almost slap a hand on my mouth, but I don’t. It’s a ruse, an adventure. If it means taking an unknown ride with Dominic, then so be it.
Je suis désolé, Papa.
He’s silent for a moment as if he didn’t expect me to agree so fast.
Hell. I didn’t expect to agree so fast.
His forefinger rubs his bottom lip and everything vanishes. Everything but that finger and lip.
“I don’t usually give second chances but…” His inquisitive eyes roam all over my face again. I wonder what he’s searching for. “Think again, Camille, because the moment you say yes, I have all right to do whatever I please with you.”
I gulp in a few stuttering breaths. I want to correct him and say that he doesn’t have any right and that legally speaking, I can withdraw my consent whenever I wish.
His words should raise a red alert and send me running. But all I keep thinking about is the part where he said ‘whatever he pleases.’
What pleases a man like Dominic?
“Yes.”
The moment the word is out of my lips, Dominic grabs my hand and yanks me down from the stool. A