Risqué by Elena M. Reyes

5

The moment I step outside the elevator and onto the rooftop lounge a few hours later, I’m met with a familiar scene from around the world. No matter the country, it’s all the same. Bodies grinding, pulsing beats, the heated stares of strangers as you walk by, and then come the subtle whispers: Who is that?

Men and women.

They all look at me, not realizing that my hands will forever be stained with blood—a badge I wear proudly. I’m a killer. A criminal. And I’ve hurt many for the personal gain of myself and those who share my last name.

And yet, it’s the over six-foot frame with dirty blond hair up in a small bun and light greenish eyes they focus on. It’s the tattoos and the black designer trousers and long-sleeved vest I changed into along with the accent that lures them in. Because no one believes me to be anything but a businessman upon first impression, they don’t see the devil within until close enough for me to execute without empathy.

A commoner walking down the street or inside a pub having a drink wouldn’t think I’d easily burn them all alive if they crossed me. A costly mistake. If more people were aware of their surroundings, fewer innocents would die.

“Well, aren’t you handsome.” A woman in her mid-twenties with too much lip-gloss and mascara steps into my path. She’s overly done from head to toe, the light pink in her bleached hair a bit nauseating, but it’s the hand on my arm I’m repulsed by. “Where have you been hiding—”

Before she can finish, I’ve gripped her wrist, turned it just a bit, and removed it from my body. “Not interested.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Miss.” There’s an air of arrogance to her, a slick remark sitting on her tongue, but she’s smart enough to read the warning in my eyes. Without another word, she turns and walks away, her posture stiff while I search for my Venus.

The mobile in my pocket vibrates then and I pull it out, reading the text from Aliana’s guard.

She’s at the bar with a few more people now. One male in particular seems interested. ~Kray

There are two bars in this place; I studied the layout he sent me earlier and I turn my head toward the smaller one. It’s full. All men. A stag party judging by the stupid matching outfits and the one guy’s tie with the word groom down the center.

The next one is on the other side of the roof, and the closer I get, the same sensation rushes through my veins. It’s almost like I’m back inside Casper’s office at the pub back home, watching—unable to fight this pull. It’s tangible, this buzzing heat that forces me closer.

With each step, it’s hotter.

A shiver rushes down my spine.

And it’s when I spot a familiar head of dark hair that my cock swells to near the point of pain. Because there she is, the object of my lust, and the pictures I’ve received of her out and about until I came to Chicago didn’t do her justice.

“Motherfuck,” I hiss out through clenched teeth, unable to understand my reaction. How I’m unable to look away…

This delicate little morsel is a heady temptation. I memorize every delicate inch of her short frame, pausing to enjoy the swell of her breasts in a black sweater vest and then gaze lower, to the lithe thighs in a minuscule plaid skirt. Simply put, this woman is stunning and the more she ignores my heated stare, the more I’m intrigued.

A sudden presence beside me forces my hand to the gun at my waistband without taking my eyes off her, but his chuckle makes me pause. “It’s me.”

The cool metal is soothing in my grip, eases a bit of the heat snapping at my flesh, but I let go and readjust my jacket. “Never sneak up on me, mate.”

“Understood.”

“Good,” I say, busy taking in how small she is—a delicate little goddess that I yearn to touch. Taste. Corrupt. “Who are the men?”

I could give a fuck about the women. Those two are insignificant to me.

“Those two…” from the corner of my eye I see him pointing in the general direction of two men beside the laughing girls “… are boyfriends of her classmates. This one, though, is not part of their group. He’s crashing their outing, and Miss Rubens wasn’t too pleased to see him. At least, the icy glare she sent him gave that impression.”

“Hmmm.” An amber-colored drink is offered by him and I take it, bringing it to my lips while I take account of the bodies around us. There are two guards on this floor, and they’re not employed by the lounge. Big men with subtle earpieces and overly crisp suits, are out of the norm for a place filled with a college-age crowd. “They need to leave.”

“By their own free will?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Taking another sip, I let this one settle on my tongue as the heady wooden notes calm me. I could empty my magazine in the arsehole’s body, a tempting idea, but Aliana’s first impression of me won’t be tarnished by his dead body at her feet.

She can meet the demon within another night.

“There’s a woman he likes to see—”

“Bring her,” I answer without pause and beside me, he’s nodding.

“She’s already here. Has been for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Is she under your employ?”

“No, but we’re familiar with each other. This is all her doing.”

“And those two?” I point toward the two blokes that don’t belong here.

“The bodyguards are with her.” Why the protection to come see this arse?

The woman in question—a tall, leggy blonde—walks by us, winking at Kray before strutting toward the bar. Her smile is wide, completely fake, as she wraps herself around the git while saying hello to everyone else.

He’s pissed, while the smile on Aliana’s face holds relief.

“You know what I’m going to ask for. I want everything on them.” For a moment, I glance at Kray and find him watching the scene with anger. Jealousy burns in his dark eyes. “Are you okay?”

At six foot five and two hundred and forty pounds, he’s a wall, Kray Timmons is an ex-MMA fighter turned private investigator due to his connections with me. I saved his little brother’s life; the sixteen-year-old was caught at the wrong place, wrong time, and at the center of a dispute he had no business in.

So instead of taking his stepfather’s words and pinning the kid with stealing and selling for his personal gain, I strangled his mother’s handler until he confessed. I also let the brothers decide his fate and then made the body disappear.

Kray’s loyalty has been infallible since then, and after breaking his leg in his last match a year ago, he became my eyes and ears here. My employee.

Because while Casper is the head of the beast, I’m the body.

A body that strikes to protect.

“Yes.” It’s a bit terse, but the look I give him is enough for his expression to quickly turn apologetic. He’s angry with the woman hugging the arsehole that came to see Aliana. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen him around, and I know one of the rat holes he crawls out from. You’ll have it by tomorrow.”

However, the scowl is back when he turns to watch them leave. The men in suits move in closer to the pair, and his clenched hands are proof of a history I give no fucks about as long as it doesn’t interfere.

“Thank you,” I say with a nod before walking toward the bar, my eyes set on her. I’m taking in her smooth tan skin, how the LED lighting bounces off her flesh while highlighting the sinful body she’s swaying. There’s a drink in her hand while she dances, nearly giggling as the unwanted arse is led away by the woman Timmons knows with the guards a few steps behind.

Who is she to Kray? But more importantly, who is this wanker to Aliana?

A question for another time as those gorgeous eyes meet mine from across the room, and pause. There’s surprise in those sweet orbs and a small grin on her lips, but what I find bloody mouthwatering is the hint of pink that quickly blooms across her cheeks.

Her eyes roam my face and then lower, and I like the way they feel. Like a fucking delicious sweep of a finger down my skin, but I break the stare as I pause just beside her on an empty stool. Aliana watches me while the bartender comes over, a man who winks and smiles a little too wide. He’s also older than everyone in this place.

“What can I get you?”

“Whiskey on the rocks.” At my accent, there’s a low gasp from my right. Do you like accents, love?

“Any preference?”

“Macallan. Twenty-five if you have it.”

“Right away.” He turns to grab a glass when the scent of peaches and vanilla infiltrates my senses. It’s soft, fresh, and my cock throbs behind the zipper of my trousers. As the man pours my drink, I feel her eyes on me. And it’s so motherfucking hard, but I bite back a smirk and instead keep watch through the mirror behind the bar. She’s oblivious, and her curiosity in me is honest. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, mate.” Sliding a fifty across the bar, I turn to leave when I hear her.

“Is it any good?” Motherfuck, that sweet little voice is delicious.

I turn toward her. “Yes.”

“Seems harsh to me.” She shrugs, a small smile curling at the corner of her lips, and I want to lick the gloss off. “Plus, it smells awful.”

“Let me guess...” I tilt my head toward the half-empty glass in her hand “...you like your drinks sweet?”

“Don’t be judgy.” Her glare is playful, and I enjoy the way she leans a little closer. How perky her tits look in the cashmere sweater. “I’m more of a citrus-with-a-hint-of-sweetness kind of girl.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“You do that.”

“Saucy little thing, aren’t you?”

She rolls her eyes at that and holds a dainty hand out toward me. “I’m Aliana, by the way.”

“Aliana.” It leaves me on a low rumble as I taste her name on my tongue. Softly, I grab her hand, moving a little closer before lifting it to my lips. I kiss her knuckles, her middle finger, and then turn it slightly to place my lips at her pulse point. My eyes never leave hers, cataloging every reaction, and I’m pleased by Aliana’s soft gasp as her stare becomes slightly hooded. Good girl. “A pleasure to meet you, beautiful.”

“Are you going to deny me your name?” She doesn’t take her hand back. Doesn’t chastise me for taking a few liberties. “Or do you want me to play the guessing game?”

“Ali?” One of the women she’s with calls her name, but Miss Rubens doesn’t acknowledge her past the minute shake of her head. I can feel her friends’ stare, their curiosity, but more than that, I love her reluctance to break this little tit for tat. “We’re heading to the dance floor. Will you be okay?”

Her concern for Aliana is the only reason I don’t dismiss her myself.

“I’m fine. Text you in a bit.”

“If you’re—”

“I am.” A hint of annoyance flashes across her expression, but it’s soon replaced by a smirk matching my own. “Go have fun with your boyfriend. I’ll be here.”

“Okay.” The four walk away while I take another sip of my drink, an action the beauty next to me watches, and when her small, pink tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, I offer her a taste.

“Drink.”

“Name first.”

I chuckle at her demand, amused by the way her hand goes to her slightly cocked right hip. “Bossy too?”

“I can be,” Aliana says, and the serious demeanor she tries to hold on to crumbles as a low giggle follows. “It’s about the only thing I learned from my dad that’s useful.”

There’s no missing the hint of animosity in her tone. It’s quick, and evaporates the second the words slip past those plump lips.

“I’m sure you’ve learned a lot more than that.”

“And I need you to quit stalling and tell me your name.”

“Take a drink, and I will.”

“Fine.” She tries to take the glass from me, but I shake my head and tip it against her lips. They part, just a small opening, and she take a tiny sip. Not even a third of a shot, but I don’t comment as I’m fascinated by the way she savors the warm notes of smoke and dried fruits before swallowing. “That’s actually pretty good.”

“I know.” And because I can’t stop my impulses when it comes to this woman, I lick the bloody rim where her lips touched. There’s just the slightest bit of saliva there, and I hold back a groan at the small taste. “Perfect amount of heat to sweet with an earthy tone.”

“Agreed.” Her answer is a bit huskier. Her eyes, which I didn’t notice until now, have small flecks of green within those brown orbs and seem a little darker. “It exceeded my expectations.”

“One more.” Taking a step closer, I offer her the last bit in the glass while leaning down until my lips are just against her ear. There’s a shiver that runs through her body, goose bumps rise and spread while a groan reverberates through my chest. Sinful fucking woman. For a second or two, we remain still, just the rise and fall of our chests until I give her what she wants. “My name is Callum Jameson, my Venus. At your service.”