Chapter 2
TWO
REON
My gaze locks on her as she walks in. Something about the woman makes me want to watch her. She has bright copper-colored hair that accents her chocolate-brown eyes. There is something intriguing and utterly captivating about her, but it’s not just her looks that interest me.
She’s a regular, coming in about as often as I—once a week. I’ve never made a move to speak to her, but I watch her as she watches everyone else. She doesn’t even look around as she heads straight to the bar, sits down, and taps her long fingernails against the wood before she orders.
Same routine once a week.
She’s early today, though.
“Reon, the shipment was late. It’s going to put us back,” Earl says from the other side of the table.
I’ve known Earl for quite some time. Long before he started to get salt-and-pepper-colored hair that makes people think he is older than his thirty-five years, he now runs my aviation company.
We import and export goods. While some of the goods keep the business legitimate, others are not quite legal. Actually, they are very illegal.
“You’ll figure it out,” I reply. Earl huffs and reaches for his drink. He knows I hate talking business unless absolutely necessary. That’s why I hired him and Hannah—so I could spend more time doing the things I love.
“You always say that,” he grumbles.
I turn to face him. He’s dressed in a blue suit, his jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and the white shirt he is wearing reads Patrick’s Aviation.
I grew up with my father as a pilot, so it was only natural that he taught me everything he knew. When he died, he left me a large chunk of money—an incredibly large chunk—so I acquired planes—a lot of them. And now I’m one of the biggest import companies in the world.
My business is worth billions.
I’m worth even more.
And Earl, I pay handsomely to run everything smoothly, so I don’t have to.
“You can leave now, Earl.” I wave him off, wanting to focus on her.
“I have more news,” he starts, but I pin him with a glare that speaks volumes, daring him to continue despite my clear displeasure.
His jaw clenches, grinding with tension. “I guess I can handle it. Don’t forget you have Nashville.”
“That’s what I pay you for. Now, leave.”
Earl gets up, not finishing his drink. He grabs his jacket, tosses it over his arm, and walks out without looking back.
I sit back and turn my attention to the woman at the bar. She now has a bottle of Vodka in front of her, and she’s staring back at me.
I meet her gaze.
How long was she watching me?
Most of the time, when I see her, she doesn’t make eye contact with me.
But I know she sees everything now. She has that look about her that says she already has you worked out; it both excites me and unnerves me all at once.
Standing, I make my way over to her, pull the stool out next to her, and sit. I tap the bar to get the bartender’s attention, and he walks over.
“Espresso martini,” I tell him.
She laughs next to me, and it’s like music to my ears—dark, mysterious music that somehow soothes.
When the bartender walks off, I turn to look at her.
Her chocolate-brown eyes stare back at me.
But behind the deep, velvety color of her gaze, it’s like there’s no one there. No emotion. No warmth. No soul.
“Do you find my drink order amusing?” I ask her.
To be honest, I ordered that to get a reaction out of her, and it seems it worked. Those chocolate eyes lock onto mine, and I notice she’s wearing some weird mascara.
Is it blue? I think it is.
“Can’t say I see many men order cocktails. Most hide it by drinking what their wives order.”
“I’m not married,” I inform her.
“Aren’t you the lucky one?” she says with an eye roll, then she returns to her drink. I watch as she lifts it to her pink lips and takes a sip. Her long, slender neck moves as she swallows, and my cock hardens instantly.
The first time I saw her, I thought, What a lonely soul. A beautiful, lonely soul.
She isn’t your typical beauty. She’s the kind that once you have eyes on her, it’s hard to look anywhere else.
Classic.
With a touch of spice.
“Why are you eye fucking me?” she asks as soon as the glass leaves her lips.
Fuck, she’s abrupt. I like it.
“You’re attractive, but I guess you know that already.”
She purses her lips. “Yeah, I do.” She shrugs. “Do you want to fuck me?” There she goes again, straight to the fucking point.
Her words make me smile, and the bartender coughs in front of us as he brings my drink over, watching her. But she pays him no mind, her focus solely on me.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” I tell her, then lift my drink to my lips. She watches me and holds out her hand. I pass her the drink, and she tastes it.
Scrunching up her nose, she hands it back. “Tastes like shit. You know what tastes better?” she asks. I raise a brow, waiting for her to tell me. “My cunt.”
Her words throw me.
Not in shock but appreciation.
Because now I am thinking of all the ways I can feast on her cunt.
I don’t think I have ever met a woman so abrasive and straightforward in my life. It’s intriguing, to say the least.
“I’m sure it does.” She nods and turns back to her drink, pouring herself another glass. “Why are you here?” I ask.
“I like to people-watch. It helps me think clearly, and I need to work out a plan.”
“Do you like to watch people you want to fuck too? Or is scoping out people in bars your specialty?” I ask.
She reaches for her phone, unlocks it, and puts it on the bar in front of me. On the screen is a video of a pool, and in it are two people fucking. After a few moments, she pulls the phone away.
“I guess that’s my answer.” I down the drink and wave for another.
“You really should drink something a bit nicer. I don’t want to taste coffee on you later.”
Later.
Hmm…
“I’ll have an apple crumble,” I tell the bartender.
“What’s in that?” she asks as he starts to make it.
“Fireball, apple juice, and lemonade,” I tell her. “You seem assured I want you.”
“You do. You’ve been watching me for months. But tonight’s the first time you’ve graced me with your presence.”
Well, fuck! I didn’t think she even noticed. Seems she is more observant than I thought. The bartender brings over my drink and hands it to me, but she takes it before I can and brings it to her lips. I watch as she nods her head in approval for that one.
“Better. You won’t taste so sour later.”
“You plan for there to be a later?” I ask.
“You want me. I can tell you do. You even made your friend leave.”
“My friend? No, he works for me.” I like to keep my affairs private, and friends are a liability. So, I don’t have friends. My life revolves around my work. My first business keeps me busy enough, and my other… well, it involves a special skill set. One where it’s best I work alone.
“What do you do?”
I smile at her and lean in. “I’m a serial killer,” I say with a wink and then pull back, swallowing the rest of my drink. She doesn’t blink or tell me I’m crazy.
No, she simply smiles slowly, her plush lips curling at the corners, her eyes lighting up with a strange inner glow. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen from her all night.
And it’s fucking devasting.