2. Bad Decisions
Bad Decisions
KATHERYN
“Are you going to make me ask you again?”
“I- I.” She stumbles over her words. “Lily.”
I simply watch the way it fell from her lips, fractured, and breathless.
It was such a delicious sound. Most people in this club are shouting to be heard, desperate to project strength, but Lily is unraveling right in front of me, and I can’t help but want to reach out and pull the threads even tighter.
“Lily,” I repeat. Saying it slowly, letting the syllables roll over my tongue like the expensive whiskey in my glass. I test the name, weighing it, deciding if I like the way it feels.
I lean back into the velvet shadows of my chair, my posture returning to that of a queen observing a subject.
“Katheryn.”
I pick up my glass, the amber liquid swirling lazily, and take a slow, deliberate sip. I watch Lily over the rim, my eyes sharp and unreadable. Waiting. Building a pressure that demands to be broken.
I watch the flush creep up Lily’s neck, a beautiful, frantic pink that makes me want to wrap my fingers around her pulse point just to feel how fast the girl was dying for me.
The air between us has become pressurized, thick enough to swallow. I don’t just want to know Lily; I want to consume her, to take that soft, stuttering energy and refine it until it only exists for my pleasure. Even just for the night.
I revel in the power of a slow burn, the almost touch, the exquisite torture of the space between a predator and its prey.
I stay exactly where I am, leaning back into the leather chair, my silhouette sharp and imposing against the dim amber glow of the lounge.
I let the silence stretch until it becomes a physical weight, a tension so thick that Lily can likely feel it humming in her own skin.
"Don't look away," I command when she shifts her gaze away, my voice a low, dangerous purr. "When I speak to you, Lily, you look at me."
I pick up my glass again, my movements agonizingly slow.
I take a sip of the dark liquid, my eyes never leaving Lily’s.
Watching the way her throat hitches with every breath.
I swallow, my gaze dropping to the movement of Lily’s lips, then traveling down the line of her neck, lingering on the frantic beat of her pulse.
“You're staring, Lily," I point out. My voice is barely a whisper, a silken thread of sound that seems to wrap around her. “And now you are holding your breath."
I lean forward merely resting the tip of a single, manicured finger on the table, a fraction of an inch away from Lily’s hand. I let the heat from our skin radiate toward one another, a silent, magnetic pull. Almost touching, the intention is there, heavy, electric and suffocating.
“Look at you,” I murmur, eyes darkening, the ring around my iris catching the light like a predator's. “Such a beautiful lost little bird.”
The words steal what little composure Lily had left. Her lips part. She tries to catch her breath. No response comes. I don't think she's capable of one right now.
Intriguing. Most people rush to 3ll silence. They babble. Explain. Perform. Lily simply sits there beneath the weight of my attention, looking at me as though she's forgotten every clever thing she might have wanted to say. I find that far more appealing.
My gaze drifts briefly to the untouched drink in front of her before returning to her face.
"Tell me something, Lily."
She swallows and I watch the movement with entirely too much interest.
"What brought you to a place like this?"
Because she doesn't belong among the polished predators prowling this club. Not because she isn't beautiful enough. Because she is untouched. Real. Still soft.
Lily lets out a nervous laugh and glances down before catching herself and lifting her eyes back to mine.
Good girl.
"I was supposed to meet some friends from work here," she says quietly. "But I found out after I was already here that they couldn't make it. Occupational hazard I suppose. Shifts don't always end as expected, sometimes they turn into doubles in nursing."
For a moment, I simply stare at her. Of course. That explains it. She was a giver. 5robably cared too much, and gave too much of herself. The uncertainty of the way she'd been standing at the bar looking completely out of place among the sharks circling the room made sense now.
My gaze drifts over her slowly. Alone. Beautiful. Entirely unaware of the effect she has. A dangerous combination.
"Well," I say softly, turning my glass between my fingers, "their absence appears to be my good fortune."
For a moment neither of us spoke.
The music continues somewhere below us. The city glitters beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. People move through the club. Laughing loudly. Drinking too much. Practiced performances in hopes of getting laid.
None of it holds my attention. Not anymore.
"Tell me, Lily," I say, settling deeper into my chair. "What do you normally do when a woman buys you a drink and invites your company?"
A nervous laugh slips from her. "I don't think that's ever happened before."
“No?" I arch a brow.
“No." The answer is immediate. Earnest. And completely believable.
Captivating. The answer is so honest, it almost makes me pause.
I lift my glass with a seductive grin. “Then perhaps tonight is full of firsts.”
The words earn exactly the reaction I expected.
Lily's eyes lock to mine, those impossibly crystal blue pools staring back at me.
Her breath hitches as a blush creeps from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks.
I make her nervous. Good. A faint smile touches my mouth.
I had been looking for that all evening.
Not confidence or arrogance. Not the practiced flirtation. Just honesty. It was surprisingly rare.
I can't remember the last time someone spoke to me without weighing every answer first. Without calculating every word spoken.
Without wanting something from me. Lily simply exists.
Somehow that feels far more dangerous. My gaze drifts over her again.
The soft blonde curls. The nervous way she wraps her fingers around the untouched drink.
The pulse fluttering beneath the delicate skin of her throat.
Fucking hell. She's exquisite.
The music pounds somewhere below us, muffled by distance and expensive architecture. Beyond the glass, the city glitters against the darkness like scattered diamonds.
Normally, this is the point where I would lose interest in conversation.
The mystery solved. The challenge of another one-night-stand conquered.
The game won. Instead, I find myself wanting more.
More conversation. More reactions. More of those breathless little pauses she doesn’t seem capable of hiding. More of her.
Her innocence should give me pause. It should stop me. Make me think twice about taking her home. It doesn't.
I turn my glass slowly between my 3ngers. The decision was already made. It was a simple one. What felt like an inevitable one.
"Would you like to get out of here?"
Her eyes lifted immediately to mine. I hold her gaze. I saw the uncertainty behind her eyes. The questions. The corner of my mouth curves slightly.
"Somewhere quieter. Somewhere much more private."
For the first time all evening, something close to fear flickers across her expression. I can almost see the argument happening behind those beautiful blue eyes. The sensible answer or the tempting one. I already know which side is winning.
I lean back into my chair, completely at ease. "What I can promise you, Lily, is that I am absolutely a bad decision that you might regret, but will never forget."
Then, with deliberate calm, I set my empty glass on the table.
“My penthouse.” The words are less invitation than inevitability.
I rise to my feet. “Come on, little bird. Let’s go.”