Lured (Team Zero #1) by Rina Kent

I run a mental check. I’m on the shot.

Everything is cool.

I breathe through my nose and try to cool the flaming war in my cheeks. I’m actually doing a one-night stand.

Although, technically, it’s lunchtime.

“I have a shift in two hours,” I say as coolly as possible. I need to get that out of the way so it’s clear that whatever he has in mind doesn’t exceed the limit. Sure, I can survive two hours.

Dominic throws me a glance over his shoulder. “That will be more than enough.”

Thump, thump, thump…

Is it possible to have a heart attack from excitement?

A man stands beside us. He’s wearing a long jacket in the middle of the summer. His grim eyes roam over me.

I attempt to ignore him.

Dominic has other plans.

Using his clutch on my hand, he pulls me to his side. The glare he cuts the man is so harsh that my cheeks burn on his behalf. The man doesn’t even wait for the lift. He glances at his watch and walks the opposite way.

This. The power. The complete control. Dominic doesn’t even need to talk and people fall in line for him.

Am I just another one of these people? I stare up at his cool, effortless expression. Although I thought I don’t care what he sees me as, I don’t like that I could be an insignificant stop for him. I want to be special.

“I know what you are,” I say as the lift takes its sweet time to reach us.

“What I am?” He raises an eyebrow. It’s insane how such a small gesture can add tenfold to his already put-together look.

I meet him head-on. “You’re a sociopath.”

He continues raising the eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” His thumb caresses the back of my hand, and the intimate gesture catches me by complete surprise.

“Nothing,” I blurt. “I just want to put it out there that I know your nature and still agreed. You didn’t trick me into this.”

I probably shouldn’t deliver any blow to his intricate manipulation web, but I won’t be another meaningless name.

He smiles. I freeze. It isn’t that full-of-shit grin. This one reaches his eyes, and I swear Satan is about to come out and play. What did I just stir?

“I’m stepping up my game, then.”

“How?”

“You know what I am and still came.”

I slowly nod. “So?”

“I’m tempted to fuck you up for challenging me, Camille.” The words roll over my skin like heated, open-mouthed kisses.

Mais putain. He just said he’ll fuck me up and I’m turned on. No. I’m beyond turned on. The image of jumping him barges to the forefront of my brain.

The lift dings and its doors swing open. I visibly flinch as the image shatters.

People exit without giving us a glance. I’m surprised they’re not seeing my pulse thumping out of my throat.

As we walk into the lift and the doors close, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on alert. Someone is watching me.

Why would someone watch me? I don’t even have any acquaintances in England except for the people in Samir’s coffee shop.

Dominic yanks on my hand that’s still in his, and my attention snaps to him.

He’s watching me with slight irritation. “Where did your mind go?”

“Nowhere important.”

“If it’s not important then why are you thinking about it?” He deadpans matter-of-factly before he tugs on my hand again so I’m flush against his hard chest. My breasts graze his jacket, and my nipples peak in an instant. Tingles zip straight to between my thighs. His free hand wraps around my back; firm and unyielding.

“When with me, your whole attention is on me.” His authoritative tone seeps under my skin. “Is that clear?”

“What if I say no?” I keep my eyes on his. I refuse to cower.

People like Dominic never break eye contact first and it’s what makes them intimidating and flowing with controlling confidence. Normal humans avoid staring into eyes for long because of embarrassment or the intimacy of the gesture. Dominic doesn’t give two fucks because he’s shameless and lacks empathy for others.

He’ll stare into your soul, invade it, tear it apart, and not bat an eye about it. Worse, he’d cry at your funeral after he stabs you to death.

That’s what makes sociopaths an antisocial anomaly.

He continues his staring conquest, probably trying to intimidate me into retreating.

I don’t.

Dominic’s voice comes out neutral, “Then I will deal with you however I damn please. You’ve been testing my patience and I’m fighting the urge to punish you.”

Oui!!

I manage to not scream the world and act nonchalant. “Promises.”

A flicker of surprise lodge in his deep brown eyes before they heat. “What did you just say?”

“Promises. Promises…” I muse.

Oh. Dieu. The thrill of provoking him is too addictive.

Dominic looks about to do something, but he’s interrupted when the lift’s doors open. He drags me out by the hand. This time, it’s nearly impossible to keep up with him.

Thankfully, we don’t walk for long. We stop in front of room 717. He swipes a card and the door clicks open. He strides inside with me on his tail.