Venomous Attraction (Venomous #2)

Chapter 1

ONE

CORA

There he is. Arlo Graves.

He’s known as one of the leading therapists in the city, and they say it’s almost impossible to get an appointment with him. Yet here he is, walking into my office and shutting the door as if he belongs here.

I’m used to being around powerful men and women, but something about Arlo Graves hits differently.

It only takes one look at this man to know there is something dangerous and mesmerizing about him.

It’s not just his impeccable style, height, or build.

There’s something in his eyes. A knowing look in his stoic gaze as it homes in on me.

How his dark yet icy gaze touches on my face, then flits from my cheeks to my chin and back to my eyes.

It’s like he knows my deepest, darkest secrets.

But not in a therapist capacity, more in a way that makes me feel on edge and unsettled.

Almost like there’s an answering darkness in him, a remoteness that sets him apart from other men.

He’s dressed in a black suit with no tie in sight. He’s taller than me, that’s for sure, even with me wearing heels. His presence is intimidating as he stands on the opposite side of my desk. His almost-black-as-midnight eyes stay locked on mine, and he offers me a sly smile.

I’ve had one previous encounter with him when he was looking for a commercial property. I quickly passed him off to one of my top agents because, at the time, I was busy and couldn’t take him on myself.

“Cora, isn’t it?” he asks, holding out his hand. I glance at it with a calm smile, even though my heart is speeding like an F1 race car as I offer him mine. Our palms meet, and he gently squeezes once, then releases his hold. He stands with authority, like he owns this place. But he doesn’t.

I bet this man isn’t used to being told no.

“It is. How can I help you, Mr. Graves? I wasn’t aware we had an appointment. Is Layla not performing to your standards? Has she not found what you’re looking for yet?” I ask as his gaze skims over my bright red top, which complements my honey-blonde balayage hair and my green eyes.

Layla is the agent I put on his account, and I know for a fact she performs well. She wouldn’t be my top agent if she didn’t. He glances around my office before taking a seat. Sitting back down in my chair, I fold my hands on top of the desk as I cross my legs and wait for him to speak.

“She isn’t showing me what I need,” he tells me.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Well, would you like me to find you another agent?”

He rolls his shoulders before he straightens up and looks me dead in the eyes as he says, “No, I want you.”

His words throw me. They don’t sound like he wants someone to help him find a property. No, I get the distinct impression he means something entirely different. But, like any good businessperson, I move past it and act professionally.

“I didn’t have time in my schedule to show you what you needed, so I assigned my best agent to help with that. But since you aren’t satisfied, I can juggle some things around and assist,” I offer, trying to keep steady eye contact, even though it’s hard with the way he assesses me.

“Yes, you should.” His face is stoic as he stares at me.

I smile and nod, trying to ignore the feeling that rushes over me from being around him. “I will. And, again, I apologize, Mr. Graves.” I stand, and he does as well. He doesn’t offer me his hand again to say thank you. Instead, he turns for the door.

As he pulls it open, he looks back over his shoulder at me. “Tomorrow at nine a.m., meet me for coffee to discuss what you have.” I nod, and he gives me the name of a local coffee shop before he strides out the door.

The moment he’s gone, I fall back into my chair and stare at the door.

I don’t have time to take on Arlo Graves, but I couldn’t say no.

Arlo is an incredibly well-connected man.

Plus, he is also extremely business savvy.

He owns a lot of property, and while I’ve never helped him before, I have heard stories about him.

He is said to use women, or so I’ve learned from a few of the ladies around the office, not that any of them have slept with him, so it’s all hearsay.

But it seems he doesn’t care who finds out because he has heard them, and he has not once commented.

He is cold and calculating and, from what I’ve heard, manipulative.

I can see it, though, in the way he commands a room when he’s in it.

My office door opens, and I sit up straighter as Layla enters, shuts the door, and then sits exactly where Arlo was a few minutes ago.

“Arlo fired me,” she announces with an eye roll.

“I know. He requested that I take his account,” I tell her honestly. Her eyes go wide like she can’t believe it. Layla is younger—twenty-five to my mid-thirties—and less experienced than I am, but she’s great at what she does.

“Send me a list of the properties you showed him, please. I’ll need to work out what he wants.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she says as she stands. “Want to go for drinks after work?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll have to sort this out. Plus, I have to finally call it off with Luke.”

“Haven’t you done that already, several times?”

I huff out a breath of annoyance. I have, but like a lost puppy, he keeps showing up at my door.

“Yes, and this time he won’t get to me again,” I reply, meaning it. Luke and I are nothing more than sex, and we both know that. But we have sex a lot. I like sex. And while Luke isn’t the best sex I’ve ever had, he’s decent enough.

“I’m pretty sure you said that last time.” She laughs before turning and leaving.

I start packing up my stuff to leave when my phone dings to remind me I’m meeting up with Luke in less than twenty minutes. Luckily, it’s at a restaurant close to my office and within walking distance.

“Oh, also…” I glance up to see Layla pop her head back in. “If Arlo says I tried to hit on him, I did.” She blushes, and I shake my head.

“You know the rules, Layla,” I reprimand, surprised, though, that he turned down someone as young and eager as Layla. “No play, at least until you’ve secured the deal.”

“Have you seen that man?” She flicks her brown hair over her shoulder and then turns and walks off. I follow her out of my office and pass her as she sits back at her desk. Then I walk outside and head down the street.

I check the time as I push open the door to the restaurant. I’m early as usual. Luke is either on time or late. He is never early, and I hate that a lot. Being on time I can deal with, but I think the trauma from growing up with parents who were always late made me arrive everywhere early.

Making my way to the bar, I order a French martini while I wait.

I’m halfway through my drink when Luke finally arrives, a little late.

He leans in and kisses my cheek, his hand finding my lower back, his fingers dragging over it, and he takes the seat at the bar next to me.

Luke waves the bartender over, and I notice his expensive watch flash under the fluorescent lighting.

Luke has a boy-next-door look when he wears a suit. He has a nice, symmetrical face with straight white teeth and hair that is always fluffy and perfect without having to do anything to it.

But he is not my person.

He is my bed warmer.

Nothing more.

With Luke, everything feels flat. Dull. He never goes out of his way for me.

Romance? Doesn’t exist.

Sex? Sure, we have it, but it’s forgettable.

I should have broken it off ages ago, knowing there was no future for us.

“Looking ravishing as always,” he says after giving the bartender his drink order.

“Thank you. Did you just finish work?” Luke is an investment banker, and while I don’t care to understand any of that, it’s polite to ask.

“I did, and I’m eager to get going.” He touches his tie, adjusting it slightly, which usually means he wants to fuck. He always makes the same motion before he says something about getting me back to his place. So I stop him before he can.

“Luke, it’s been fun… this thing you and I have had going on.” I wave a finger between us. “But it needs to end. We’re wasting time. I want marriage, Luke. And I don’t want it with you.” I know that’s brutal, but we’ve had this discussion many times, and it’s not something he wants.

The bartender drops off Luke’s drink.

“Can we discuss this tomorrow?” Luke asks and touches his tie again.

“No! This is it, Luke.”

“So, you don’t want to go back to my place?” he pushes.

“No. I have work to catch up on.”

He picks up his drink and downs it in one swallow before he stands. Then he bends down and presses his lips to my neck. I turn ever so slightly, and as I do, I find a pair of dark eyes belonging to a man who’s sitting in a corner booth, locked on me.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?

We can end this the right way.” His words barely register as I stare across the room.

Arlo Graves is sitting there, a drink in his hand and his lips pressed in a flat line.

I break the connection first, my gaze landing back on Luke, who’s fidgeting with his damn tie. Why can’t he just stand still?

“No,” I reply tersely, just as I feel Luke’s lips touch my skin before he pulls away. His expression is calm and unaffected, which tells me he’s as heartbroken over all of this as I am, which is to say, not at all.

“Well, it was a pleasure, Cora.”

I don’t watch Luke leave. Instead, I turn my attention back to my drink.

There’s a strange fluttering sensation in my chest, but I know it has nothing to do with Luke and me parting ways.

Looking up into the mirror above the bar in front of me, I find the source—his midnight glare, still solely focused on me.

But once more, I’m the one who looks away first.