CHAPTER TWO #3
While she’s mildly relieved, unease still mars her features.
“I apologize. Sometimes, I … it’s not important.
The food is excellent. My best friend, Celeste, would love this place.
My mother would hate it.” She giggles to herself.
“Anyway, signing the prenup was the primary concern on my end. And the marriage needs to last five years.” She clamps her jaw. “Is that okay?”
“All fine,” I assure her.
Her forehead wrinkles with a vestige of surprise. “Great.” She exhales, wiping her hands with a napkin and relaxing into the booth, a smirk pulling at the corner of her rosy-painted lips. “Your turn. Give me more.”
I drain the last of my scotch before setting the glass back on the table with a clink. “I’ll be candid, Ivy. It’s important you know what you’re getting into. This life, my business, is … dangerous.”
She quirks a brow. “Dangerous how?”
“Ty and I work with two other men. Our clients are generally running from a potentially fatal situation, missing, or wreaking terror themselves. It’s for this reason there are strict rules for how we live, and you’ll be expected to adhere to them.”
Ivy mulls all of that over while the waitress replaces our drinks. “What do you do for these clients?”
I offer her a subtle headshake. “You’ll need to commit before I provide more details. That’s for your own safety.”
This is the point when most women would bolt, and they’d be wise to do so. Ivy should unquestionably consider running. Not that I’d allow her to get away. My mind’s made up.
“Will I be safe?” she inquires with a hushed tone.
“Safe?” The question loiters over the table between us. A skulking cloud. My fingers stroke over the scruff on my jaw while I revel in the way her breathing picks up, exhilarated by the risks I’m hinting at. “Safety, like many things in life, is an illusion, but I’ll protect you.”
She nods, evidently agreeing with that unsatisfactory response, her tongue sweeping seductively over her bottom lip. “And you and me? What will we—”
“We’ll be business partners, but to the world, you’ll be mine.” My words bring a frown to her face before she can correct it.
Fantastic. Let the cravings begin.
I wonder how much of her question is centered on sex. We’ll be getting to that—plenty of it—but not tonight. Not for a while, unfortunately. She needs to be good and desperate before we travel down that path. My cock hardens, vehemently disagreeing, but there’s a bigger picture to keep in mind.
One final nugget of truth to bait her. “This isn’t a life suited for most, Ivy.”
Straightening her posture, she pulls back her shoulders and tucks in her chin. My Little Storm doesn’t like to be doubted. “I’m not like most people. Never have been. I can handle it.”
And there go her questions. She doesn’t care what the expectations are or what she’ll encounter, just that she isn’t considered to be in the most category—a nod to the thunderous spirit that drives me wild.
“Settled then?” I lift my glass to toast our progress. “Do we have an engagement?”
A twitch plays on her mouth, her eyes twinkling with a bit of humor. “Not so fast, Mr. Wells .”
My heart stammers with the way she says my name, and I worry this is headed south, but then that playful twitch blows wide open, lighting up her gorgeous face. Dazzling .
“Most of my decisions are gut driven,” she says. “This feels promising, but I still need more to go on.”
Although only the first step of many and not quite a yes , this feels like a win, so I don’t bother hiding my celebratory grin. “Most definitely promising, and I’m happy to deliver more. Let’s go see your new home.”
She balks. “Arrogance is clearly one of your character flaws.” Holding up her index finger, she whips out her phone, snaps an unauthorized picture of me, and begins texting—audacious, ensuring I know what she’s doing and wise to be sharing her whereabouts.
Those actions won’t amount to much in this situation, but her good instincts are appreciated.
“Age?” she asks, glancing up at me. “I suppose we skipped that due to my aversion to small talk. I’m twenty-two, need to be married before my birthday in December.”
“Thirty-one,” I say with a chuckle, swirling the ice in my tumbler. “And our nuptials will transpire within the week.”
Her eyebrows arch as she tips her chin in jovial disbelief. “Presumptuous too. And therein lies the reason I need more particulars.”
Maybe so, but it isn’t preventing her from pressing on.
“Home address?”
I rattle it off while her finger swipes over the screen.
“I’ll be ready to go in one minute,” she adds.
What does she do with that one minute? She rises with her phone still in hand, gathers her purse, sashays her fine ass to the bar, and requests to see the manager.
After tossing a few bills on the table, I follow along and stand beside her while sipping the remainder of my scotch, utterly transfixed.
The manager, a thirty-something blonde, appears, and Ivy thanks her for her time.
“My name is Ivanna Kingston, and this is Gavin Wells.” She throws her hand out, gesturing to me while the manager smirks.
Ivy doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m leaving with him, and in the interest of sisterhood solidarity and safety, I was hoping I could text you our photos and basic information, so if I turn up missing or murdered, you’ll know precisely where and to whom to send the cops. ”
Good girl. She gets better by the minute. Fucking brilliant.
The blonde hoots. “You are one smart woman, Ivanna.” She reaches across the bar for the phone.
“I’ll put my number in so you can text me the pictures and info.
” They make the exchange, and once Ivy sends the texts with pictures of each of us and our information, the manager smiles at me with a wink.
“Always entertaining, Wells. Good to see ya. Take care of my girl here.”
I tap the bar. “Planning on it, Abby. Thanks for everything.”
Ivy’s face drops, hand on her cocked hip, eyes flitting between Abby and me. “Could’ve mentioned you knew one another.”
“You never asked, Little Storm. But now that it’s settled, let’s get you more to go on.”