Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Of course, this only makes my heart beat faster. His eyes spark when I lick my suddenly very dry lips. I try to snatch my hand back, but he doesn’t let me. His skin feels so hot against mine, and I’m not sure why. This is that intimacy thing I don’t like. Being close to someone, in their space. Breathing the same air and smelling their scent. It freaks me out. By now he knows I’m going to need a defibrillator at any moment, and there’s nothing I can do to hide it.
He’s looking at me like he hates me. Like he doesn’t know why he’s still standing here dealing with me at all. But at the same time, the corners of his mouth tip up into the smallest hint of boyish smile that he can’t seem to help.
Game face, Mack. Get your fricken game face on. This man is a killer remember? A low life scabby criminal. And I am not that girl. Never have been. So what the hell is going on?
He watches me stew silently in his grasp, knowing I could easily pull away from him, but also that I won’t. I realize now that this outfit is a lot harder to crack than I’d hoped. Lachlan in particular is suspicious and decisive in his every thought and action, and a whole lot more complex than I gave him credit for.
“So,” I huff like I’ve got better things to do. “Are you gonna’ let me dance for you, or what?”
He reaches down and tips my chin up so I have to meet his gaze. Now his mouth is just inches from mine, so close his breath is mingling with mine. “Let’s just review, sweetheart,” he says. “Ye come into my club, dressed like that…” His eyes wander over me again as if to make his point. “Ye seem to know me by name, and yet I don’t know you. And ye just expect me to believe a pretty little ride like you can’t make her way in this city without dancing? I may be stating the bleeding obvious here, but ye’re full’a shite, Mack.”
It takes me a minute to rebuff his accusation because I’m staring at his lips and trying to work out what he said. Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? I pull back and regain my space. And then I hold up my fingers and start listing off the reasons why he should give me this job.
“I’m good at dancing,” I tell him. “And I need the money. I’ve got a crazy ex-boyfriend after me, so I figure what better place to hide out than inside the hive of the Irish mafia?”
That last part is complete bullshit, and it makes him scowl, but I’m grasping at straws now.
“Have ye got any idea who ye’re talking to, sweetheart?” he stalks towards me and takes back the distance between us. “Ye’re liable to get yourself some new cement shoes if you keep running your mouth like that around here.”
“Fuck you buddy.” I cross my arms and glare. “I already told you I know who you are. What more do you want? Should I be quaking in my boots because the mighty Lachlan Crow…”
I don’t get to finish because he grabs a fistful of my hair as he jerks me forward and slams me up against the wall. His body presses up against me from behind, his arousal digging into my ass as his lips hover near my ear.
“Not surprised ye’ve got a crazy ex after you,” he says. “If ye’re always giving this much cheek.”
“Can’t help it,” I smirk against the wall. “I’m from Southie.”
“Ye’ll help it when ye’re around me,” he says.
I don’t reply, and he grips my hair and forces me to look at him. There’s no doubting the authority in his tone, he ain’t fucking around. But there’s also no doubting the unmistakable heat pressed against my ass.
“I run this club.” He squeezes my face in his fingers before moving them down over the delicate skin of my throat. “And everyone in it. If ye take issue with that, I’ll gladly show you to the door.”
Shit.
“No issue,” I tell him as his grip tightens in warning. “Whatever you say goes. I get it.”
I didn’t think it possible, but he presses even closer. So close I can feel his body heat burning into my back. He’s got me pinned and I’m shocked that I’ve managed not to have a freaking meltdown yet.
“I’ll turn your life inside out.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“This isn’t the kind of place ye can walk away from. Ye’re done when I say ye’re done, and only then.”
“Understood.”
“One dance, butterfly. That’s all ye’ll get to impress me. The odds are already stacked against ye.”
Again, he’s manhandling me out the door and dragging me down the hall. Exactly to where I want to be. The bouncer opens the door for us and I get a glimpse of the VIP area. It’s an intimate setting, dark with nice leather seats around the stage. It’s nothing like the strip clubs I visited with Scarlett when I was doing my research, but then again, it’s not intended to be. This private show is a place for the men of the MacKenna syndicate to come and unwind. Apart from them, the only other invitees are their business associates. AKA the Russians. Also, the occasional politician, lawyer, or other prominent figures they’re greasing the palms of. This is exactly where I need to be to find my guy.
None of them are around right now since the place is closed down. The only person left is the emcee who’s shutting down the lights and overhead speakers.
“Hold off,” Lachlan tells him. “I’ve got an audition.”
The man behind the podium eyes me off with curiosity and obvious interest. “You want me to stick around?”
“No,” Lachlan replies in a clipped tone.
The other guy is crestfallen as he walks towards the back without a word. I smirk and pull out my iPod. “I’ve got my own music anyway.”