Chapter 2 Jamie #2
The lights in here weren’t exactly dim, but they weren’t bright either. I looked up at the man’s back as he walked ahead of me, climbing the slightly raised platform to get to the private booth before turning back around to me. Amusement lit up his eyes.
“Coming?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
His smile widened. “You can call me Baran.”
“Baran,” I said, testing the name out.
“Come on. I’m harmless.”
I shot him a look. No man was ever really harmless, but especially not Baran. That much was obvious with one look at him. He had to be at least six foot three, and he looked like he could take care of himself.
I hesitated before I did something I hoped I wouldn’t regret.
I followed him to the booth and sat down, placing my drink down in front of me. I hadn’t even finished half of it. Baran sat close to me, close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from him. Close enough that our thighs nearly touched. I looked at the small space between us, then at him.
He let out a cheeky grin before moving back, giving me a little more space, just as a pretty waitress came by.
She had long brown hair tied up in a high ponytail and was wearing what seemed to be the standard uniform here—a tight-fitted white T-shirt, a black miniskirt, and black heels that I knew had to be painful given how much she actually walked around.
“The usual?” she asked Baran.
I glanced over at him just as he nodded and handed some bills to the waitress. “That would be great, sweetheart.”
She offered a shy smile, grabbed the money, and walked away.
“You come here often enough to have a usual,” I stated. Not sure how I felt about the fact that I had just willingly sat down next to a man who seemed to be spending most of his time at a club owned by the Bratva.
He let out a small chuckle. “Just enough. That’s not going to put you off me, is it?”
“I don’t think it would matter much either way,” I answered. It wasn’t like I was interested in him.
He didn’t seem offended by that. “That’s right. It wouldn’t matter. What matters is that you’re interested in Reign Mahankov.”
I looked down at the table.
The fuck I was interested in him.
I was… intrigued.
Given my family background, I should have known more about the Mahankovs than I did. I didn’t even know what the infamous brothers, who seemed to be known all over Manhattan—hell, the entire state of New York and then some—looked like.
“Why does that matter?” I asked.
“Because I mean no offense when I say this, but the woman at the bar is right. You’re not usually Reign’s type.”
Given all the “dating” rumors about him, I’d say it wasn’t a bad thing to not be his type.
So what the hell was I still doing here?
“Not usually?” I asked.
He smiled. I didn’t trust that smile one bit. “Not usually. But…”
“But?”
He leaned in close to me, his hot breath fanning over my cheek. I resisted the urge to back away from him.
“But,” he said, his smile widening. “He hasn’t stopped looking over here since the moment I brought you to this booth.”
He placed two fingers beneath my chin and turned my head to the side.
My eyes clashed with a man standing by the bar, surrounded by a group of people, all clamoring for his attention, yet he somehow seemed so alone.
My breath caught, and my heart pinched.
I froze in my seat, unable to think, to react, to do anything other than look at what was possibly the most beautiful human being I had ever seen in my life.
And he was looking straight at me.
My throat felt like it was on the verge of closing, and there just wasn’t enough room for any oxygen to reach my lungs.
His eyes flashed with something hard. Not in anger, not in hatred or animosity, but it wasn’t pleasant either.
I moved back, but the booth was in the way. There was nowhere to go that would get me away from his eyes.
“Does he always look so…”
Angry? Disapproving?
“Soft?” Baran supplied. I shot him a look. He grinned. This man was trouble. I didn’t know how I had missed it when he first talked to me.
“If that’s how he looks soft, then I would hate to see how he looks when he’s angry.”
“Nah, Reign’s not like that. He rarely lets his temper show. Doesn’t want to be like his old man, you know. Some Freudian psychology shit.”
“Freudian psychology shit?” I repeated. That made no sense at all.
Baran’s smile widened.
I snuck a glance back at Reign. He was still watching me.
Why was he still looking at me?
Was I really that interesting to look at? Did I stand out in the crowd here?
I probably did, but I didn’t think it would be so obvious that Reign would just stare me down like this. A shiver ran down my spine. I felt like a helpless gazelle, frozen in fear, under the gaze of a lion.
I didn’t want to be devoured by someone like Reign Mahankov.
I picked up my drink, downing about a third of the liquid in there, before slamming it down on the table and sliding out of the booth.
Baran looked at me.
“It was nice to meet you. I’m going to head out now.”
I half expected him to stop me, but I was surprised when he said, “It was nice to meet you, too. See you around, Jamie.”
I nodded once and headed out the door, resisting the urge to glance over in the general direction of where Reign was. I could still sense his eyes on me, the weight of his gaze making my back feel hot.
I pushed the door open, taking in the cold winter air as it surrounded me. I pulled my thin sweater tighter, standing by the entrance for a beat, taking in a deep breath.
It felt like I hadn’t breathed properly since the moment I set foot inside the place.
At least it hadn’t all been a waste.
I now knew what Reign Mahankov looked like.
It wasn’t until I was halfway to my house that a thought occurred to me.
I never told Baran my name… did I?