Chapter Three AURORA #2
He looked offended. "Privacy."
"Privacy?" I repeated.
"Well, yes." His eyes gleamed beneath the devil mask. "This is a very serious negotiation."
Every instinct in my body screamed that this was a terrible idea. A catastrophic idea. The worst idea I had ever had in my entire life. Unfortunately... Curiosity had always been my biggest character flaw.
So I put my hand in his. I looked down at his hand suspiciously. Then back up at him. Then back down again. Every survival instinct I possessed started screaming. Loudly. Violently. Repeatedly.
My hand in his? Immediate mistake. Catastrophic mistake. Because the second my fingers touched his, his expression changed beneath the devil mask. Not much. Just enough. Just enough that I realized I'd made an error. A huge one.
He guided me through the club with infuriating confidence, barely looking where he was going. People shifted around us naturally. Moved aside without being asked. A couple of women smiled at him as we passed. One man gave a respectful nod. He barely acknowledged any of it.
Meanwhile I was trying very hard not to notice that I was still holding his hand. Very hard.
The music softened as we moved farther from the main floor. Hallways curved beneath low amber lighting and black walls that looked almost liquid beneath gold accents. The heavy pulse of bass faded into something quieter here.
Then he opened a door. And I walked inside. And stopped. I stared around the room in horror. Black leather couches curved around the walls beneath dim golden lights. Mirrors reflected soft shadows across polished floors. A small stage sat toward one side of the room.
With a pole. A very obvious pole. A stripper pole. I slowly turned toward him. My face felt approximately one thousand degrees. "You brought me into a stripper room?!"
His shoulders started shaking. The asshole was laughing. "No."
"You brought me into a STRIPPER ROOM,” I repeated.
He finally looked at me, visibly losing the battle against amusement. "It's a private lounge."
I pointed dramatically. "There's a pole!"
"Decorative." He shrugged. "Very expensive decoration."
He leaned lazily against one of the couches while I stood there looking personally betrayed by architecture. He pointed toward me. "I bet I can guess three things about you."
I narrowed my eyes. "And if you're wrong?"
He smiled slowly. "You walk out of here tonight without getting what you wanted."
Suspicious. Extremely suspicious. But I looked at him. And then looked around. "...Fine."
His smile widened. Damn it. He straightened slowly. Then looked at me for a long second. Not smiling now. Actually studying me. His eyes moved over my face. My expression. My posture. Slowly. Deliberately. And for some reason heat crawled up my neck. Very annoying. Then he lifted one finger.
"Number one." He looked directly at me. "You hate the man you're supposed to marry."
Everything inside me froze. My face betrayed me. Because his grin widened. "You cheated!"
"I don’t even know his name,” he reminded me. “I barely know you.”
I glared at him. He looked delighted. Absolutely delighted. Then he lifted a second finger. "You're a mafia kid."
My mouth fell open. "What?!"
He laughed softly. "Little troublemaker, normal girls don't scan exits every five seconds. Nor do they get forcibly married at your age."
Oh no. I had done that. I'd been doing that all night. My outrage grew. "No. Absolutely not. You are cheating somehow."
He lifted a third finger, mouthing the word three. Then he looked at me. And his smile faded slightly. "You are a virgin.”
His third guess landed between us like a dropped glass. I stared at him. For one full second my brain stopped functioning entirely. Then outrage exploded. "You have zero proof, Devil."
Heat rushed straight into my face so fast I thought I might physically burst into flames. He was smiling. Not smug exactly. Worse. Amused. Absolutely delighted.
"You cannot just say things like that to people." I pointed at him accusingly. "That's not normal behavior."
"Mm,” he nodded. “You might be right. But so am I.”
"I hate you,” I muttered. His smile widened. I folded my arms tighter and glared at him with every ounce of betrayal I possessed. "You cheated. I know you did."
"I absolutely didn’t.”
He pushed away from the couch slowly and took one step toward me.
Then another. Not enough to trap me. Not enough to make me back away.
Just enough that I had to tilt my head up a little.
Just enough that I could see gold light catch along the edges of the devil mask.
Just enough that I became very aware of the quiet around us.
Very aware of how far away the music sounded. Very aware of the fact that I could smell his cologne again. Very aware of him.
"I won," he said quietly.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Because technically… Damn him. He had. My eyes narrowed. "I hate that you're right."
A soft laugh left him. Not the cocky one. The real one. The one I was starting to realize I liked better. Dangerous realization. He looked at me for a long moment. And he wasn't laughing anymore.
The room felt smaller. Or maybe he just felt closer. My heartbeat started doing something stupid. Something deeply embarrassing. Because he looked down at me like he'd forgotten every joke we'd made tonight. Like he'd forgotten the games. Forgotten the teasing. Forgotten everything except me.
"Little troublemaker," he said quietly.
And for the first time all night, he sounded careful. His hand lifted slowly. Not grabbing. Not demanding. Just brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Giving me time to move. Time to stop him. I didn't. I should have.
Instead I just stood there staring up at him. And his eyes dropped to my mouth. Then lifted back to mine. Question marks raised between us. Not assumption that I would give in. He was waiting for my permission.
"You still owe me a kiss,” he said softly.