Rage (Her Monsters Book One) - K.A Knight Page 0,40

and leaves me waiting in the corridor.

The door opens a few seconds later just when I was about to kick the fucker down. I’m not exactly a patient person. The guy who opens it is clearly security of some kind. In a black suit with a gun bulging at his hip, he screams protection. His boring brown eyes narrow on me as he takes me in from head to sparkling, golden toe.

"We didn't order a stripper," he grumbles and goes to shut the door.

This bitch. What the hell is it about this dress that makes people think I fuck or strip for money? I look down at it in disgust. "As if you could afford me," I taunt, before kicking my new shoe forward and holding the door open even as he tries to shut it on me.

"Listen up airhead, I’m here for the meeting. Now let me in to see Marco or I’ll take these stripper shoes and shove them so far up your ass, you’ll be spitting out golden sparkles like some kind of fucked up unicorn. Deal?" I order.

He pales but refuses to open the door, his eyes darting around as if not sure what to do.

"Let her in," comes a heavy accented voice from inside the room.

I lean forward and pat the man’s chest. "You heard him, let me in," I purr.

He nods, before stepping back and swinging the door open. I pat his chest again on the way in. "Good boy, heel."

His eyes narrow on me in anger and his hand drops to his gun.

"Do it, I dare you," I jeer.

"Red, that's enough," the accented voice orders again, and only when Red drops his hand from his gun do I look at the rest of the room, searching out the man who spoke. He must be Marco.

The room is dark compared to rest of the restaurant. Two large candelabras with flickering flames light it, and there is some dimmed lighting spread throughout. A large, white-clothed table sits in the middle of the room, with eight dark cherry chairs circling it. Only one is taken. My heels sink into the deep red carpet as the flames reflect off the wooden paneled walls. He must see me staring because he flickers a look at them.

"Sound proofed," he replies, and I nod before taking him in. He isn't what I expected, that’s for sure. Even from his voice.

He's young, probably around my age. Whiskey coloured eyes meet mine with interest. He's handsome as hell. Pitch-black stubble covers his chin and jaw, highlighting his high cheekbones. Thick black eyebrows are arched my way as he sips on a tumbler of some kind. His short, black hair is wavy and styled to perfection, and from what I can see of his outfit, it looks to be a hand-tailored, dark grey suit.

No, definitely not what I was expecting, but even as I can admit that he’s attractive, he doesn't come close to my horned god in his ripped jeans and bare feet.

"Marco, I presume?" I ask, and he nods as he takes me in like I did him.

"Please, take a seat. May I ask who I have the pleasure of dining with?" he inquires.

I pull out the seat opposite him and slide into it. "Dawn," I reply.

His eyebrow flies up and drops his glass to the table, watching me like I’m fascinating.

"Dawn, what can I do for you? You clearly know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you, something we must rectify." His words are teasing, but I see the hardness in his gaze. He is a powerful man, he relies on knowledge, and right now he doesn't appreciate being in the dark. It makes him weak.

"You know my ex-husband. In fact he was supposed to meet you tonight. I, however might have accidentally changed the appointment in his phone. Silly me," I murmur the last and he grins.

"I wasn't aware Timmy boy was married." He leans back, looking at me in a new light.

"It was a...fast marriage, if you will," I reply as a glass of wine is dropped in front of me. I nod at the waiter and wait for him to the leave the room before relaxing back with the glass my hand. "But it did benefit me now, I guess."

"And how is that?" he presses. I can feel him starting to get annoyed with my games.

"Because it offered me information. That’s what you thrive on, is it not? It seems little old Tim had some greedy