Heartless Hunk - Ann Omasta Page 0,3

Hunk?”

The questions seemed rhetorical because it was obvious that she had seen exactly what happened, so I focused instead on the odd name choice. “The what?”

Soraya gave me an exasperated look. “The Heartless Hunk. You know, from the reality television show, Hot Hunks?”

I’m sure I was giving her a blank stare as I shook my head at her because I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

“Oh, Violet. Have you been living under a rock for the past few years?” Her tone didn’t hold any malice, despite the harsh words. “Hot Hunks is one of the hottest reality shows on television, and Mr. Heartless Hunk over there is the most hated bachelor in all of New York City––perhaps the entire world.”

I knew from past discussions with her that Soraya considered N.Y.C. to be the entire world, but I didn’t call her out on it. Instead, I said, “I’ve never heard of it.”

As if we had summoned him, the man in question suddenly appeared at our table and sat down in the empty seat beside me. I gaped at him, uncertain what to think of any of this.

I didn’t have to wonder for long if he had heard the harsh way Soraya had spoken about him because his first words to us were, “Hello, ladies. It appears that my reputation as a cocky bastard precedes me.”

4

Oliver

I had built her up in my mind as someone who miraculously didn’t watch the show or follow online trends. I’d give anything to have the chance to talk to her and let her draw her own conclusions about me, without any preconceived notions muddying the waters.

I heard the words “Heartless Hunk” emerge from the friend’s lips as I approached their table, and those hopes were immediately dashed. Deciding that I might as well own it, since I wasn’t left with any other options, I opened with a reference to my notorious identity.

The crass introduction was shocking enough to have both women silently gaping at me. I was in too far to turn back now, so I held my right hand across the table to shake with the dark-haired beauty as I introduced myself, “Oliver Adams.”

“Soraya,” she said simply as she accepted my offered hand. The omission of her last name was not lost on me.

“Sore-ah-yah,” I let the name roll off my tongue. It was exotic and unique, much like the beautiful woman across from me. Nodding, I said, “It suits you.”

Proving that my opinion meant little to her, the woman dropped my hand dismissively and failed to respond to my comment. Since she wasn’t the reason I was here anyway, I turned to the knockout beside me and repeated my name.

When she accepted my offered hand, I lifted our joined hands and pressed my lips to the back of hers. She yanked back from my grip, making me wonder if my touch made her recoil, or if she had experienced the same surprising jolt of electricity as I did from our skin-to-skin contact.

I gave her an expectant look, so she finally said quietly, “Violet Markle. No relation to Meghan.”

The fact that she felt the need to tack on that last bit made me smile. She must get the question frequently to have automatically added it to her introduction.

Her voice was gravelly, deeper than I expected, and sexy as hell. I longed to hear it letting out a throaty groan before shouting my name in the throes of passion.

“Violet.” Saying the name aloud made me happy. It was so unexpected for a red-headed bombshell. Unable to resist asking, I said, “Your parents saw a lovely red-haired bundle of joy and decided to give her a name that means purple?”

“My mom is a bit of a hippie, so she named me after her favorite flower. My dad is even flightier than she is, so I doubt he cared at all what I was named.”

She sounded defensive, which wasn’t at all how I intended to make her feel. Trying to undo any damage my question may have caused, I said, “It’s a lovely name for a beautiful woman.”

Wow, that sounded cheesy. For someone who was supposed to be such a practiced man-whore, I sure didn’t seem to have any slick moves with this particular woman.

“Thanks,” she said simply, and I could tell that I was already losing her interest.

Unable to think of anything else to say, I commented, “Your voice is so unexpected.”

Her furrowed eyebrows made me realize that my words could easily be misconstrued