Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,7

the wine, watching him over the rim of the glass. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He taps the screen on his phone and lifts it to his ear. “Take Marlo back to the casino and return for me.”

Outside, an engine roars to life, and images of Trace going home with Marlo vaporize. I hide my stupid smile behind the wine glass.

He pockets the phone with controlled grace in his movements, at odds with the muscle straining the shoulders of his suit jacket. He’s all strength and hard lines buttoned up in a pretentious package. What I wouldn’t give to unwrap him and find out exactly what he’s hiding beneath those tailored clothes.

His legs are spread, taking up space like he owns it, with his knees brushing against the coffee table.

At this point, a normal woman would’ve reached for her phone and dialed 911. I consider doing that, for maybe half a second, and decide to deal with him my own way.

I’ve been called reckless, shameless, audacious, and even naive, but I think those name-callers live in fear and paranoia. I prefer to view things with open-minded optimism.

Trace Savoy, with his fancy suit and personal driver, isn’t here to turn my life into a horror movie. He’s not going to stab me, rob me, or tie me up in an abandoned cabin. Anything else, I can deal with. Especially with the liquid courage coursing through my blood.

Which is why I don’t hesitate to step over one of those muscular thighs and sit on the edge of the table, putting my legs between his. I don’t expect him to lean away, and he doesn’t disappoint.

Bent forward at the waist with his hands folded together between us, he immerses me in the endless oceans of his eyes before lowering his gaze to my lips. “Are you going to offer me a drink?”

“Nope.” I lean closer, a kiss away. “Why are you here?”

His scowl darkens. “I already told you.”

“Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes say another.”

Raw, unguarded turbulence stirs the air around us, and I glory in it, breathing it in with deep inhales. I never thought I’d experience this feeling again—the feverish thrill in my belly, the throbbing lust between my legs, the reckless hope blooming in my chest.

His lips part. The angles of his face soften, and something passes through his gaze. Something he doesn’t want to give me, because it falls away with one slow blink, replaced with an uncompromising expression and resting frown.

“I’m closing Bissara and reopening it at the casino.” He removes a folded document from the interior pocket of his suit jacket.

“What?” I straighten and set the glass on the table beside my hip. “What about the employees?”

“Most will be offered jobs at the new location. Including you.” He hands me the paperwork. “These are the terms of your employment.”

For the next few minutes, I read through the multi-page contract. I only dance at Bissara twice a week, but according to this, he’s tripling my hourly wage? I’m goddamn giddy until I reach the section about my required schedule. “Five nights a week? No way. I teach dance classes on—”

“You’re barely scraping by on the revenue from those classes.” He sweeps his haughty gaze over my yard-sale furniture and scuffed-up wood floors. “I’m offering you an opportunity to earn a more comfortable living.”

“I’ve been scraping by for years. That’s what people do.” Irritation heats my cheeks, and I suddenly wish I wasn’t sitting so damn close to him. “I think your level of comfort looks a whole lot different than mine, Mr. Savoy.”

“Trace.”

“Do all your employees refer to you by first name?”

“None.” Only his lips move, his eyes steady as ever, drilling into mine.

“Do you treat your employees with personal visits to their homes?”

“No.” He bites the word.

I fold the contract, set it aside, and lean in, drifting so close the mint on his breath tingles my lips. “I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”

A muscle flexes in his jaw. The only response he gives.

“Okay, I’ll take a stab at the answer.” I slide my fingers beneath his silver necktie, caressing the fine silk. “You watched me dance at Bissara. You liked what you saw. Maybe you assume a woman who gyrates her hips like that is an easy lay. Or maybe it doesn’t matter, because the powerful Trace Savoy always gets what he wants.” I give the tie a yank that doesn’t move him. “You came here for me, and it has nothing to do with