I counted the seconds as I washed my hands, staring at my reflection in the mirror. What the hell was I doing? Helping a woman I barely knew steal something that probably wasn’t hers to take, all because my blood sang when she was near? Because her scent made me dizzy? Because when she smiled—really smiled—it felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds?
Pathetic.
Three minutes. I dried my hands and headed back toward the bar, already knowing what I’d find.
My blood boiled as I watched Rava lean closer to Francis, her hand lingering on his arm. His eyes crawled over her body, lingering on the curve of her breasts, the elegant line of her neck. Possessiveness surged through me so strong it nearly staggered me.
Mine.
I forced my breathing to slow. We had a plan. Sort of. I signaled the bartender and ordered two more drinks, keeping my movements casual as I approached their corner of the bar.
“Making friends already?” I slid the fresh cocktail in front of Rava, letting my fingers brush against hers.
Rava looked up, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “Baby! You’re back.” She didn’t move away from Francis, her hand still on his arm. “I was just talking to Francis here. He’s an art dealer. Isn’t that fascinating?”
I caught Rava’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her face toward mine. Her skin burned hot against my touch, her amber eyes widening slightly at the contact. I dragged my gaze over her flushed cheeks and down delicious curves, making a show of it.
“I thought you were mine to appreciate tonight,” I said, my voice a low rumble that made her pupils dilate.
She giggled, the sound so at odds with the sharp-tongued woman I’d met earlier that it almost made me laugh. Her hand slid from Francis’s arm to his chest, tracing idle patterns on his expensive shirt.
“Can you blame me for starting a bidding war?” Her tail curled around my calf beneath the bar, a secret point of contact that contradicted her flirtatious display.
Francis smirked, clearly enjoying what he thought was happening. “Perhaps we could come to an arrangement that satisfies everyone.”
The suggestion made my jaw clench. I held out my hand for Rava and helped her off her stool. “I think we’ve had enough sharing for one night.”
Another giggle broke from her lips. She stumbled against me, knocking into the bar and sending our glasses toppling. Liquid splashed across the bar and down the front of her shirt, molding the fabric to her curves.
“Shit!” She jumped back, colliding with Francis. Her hands gripped his shoulders for balance, her body pressed against his for one maddening second before she steadied herself.
“Watch it!” Francis snapped, steadying her with visible reluctance.
“I’m such a klutz,” Rava lamented, making a show of dabbing at her wet shirt. Her fingers brushed Francis’s collar, adjusting it with apparent innocence. “Baby, can we please buy him another?”
Francis waved her off, but his eyes followed the path of the spilled drink down her body. I wanted to punch that look off his face.
“Please, baby?” Rava slid her hand down my chest, her touch leaving a trail of fire even through my shirt. “And I’ll go get cleaned up,” she purred, leaning in close. Her breath tickled myear as she said without a hint of whisper, “Before I get dirty all over again.”
My cock hardened instantly at her words, my body responding to the promise in her voice even though I knew it was just for show. I swallowed hard, nodding as she pulled away.
“This won’t take too long,” I promised, my voice rougher than expected.
She winked, stumbling toward the lobby with exaggerated care. I watched her go, hips and tail swaying with each step.
The hell of it was, I wanted it to be real. I wanted her smile to be for me, not part of some elaborate ruse. I wanted those whispered promises to be genuine. I wanted her.
I turned back to Francis, forcing a rueful smile. “Women, right? Let me buy you another drink. Least I can do after the spill.”
He hesitated, then nodded. I signaled the bartender, settling onto the stool Rava had vacated. “So, art dealer?”
“What?” He sipped the fresh drink, his eyes flicking toward the lobby where Rava had disappeared. “Oh. Yes.”
“My clan makes some interesting pieces,” I said, keeping my tone casual. “Always wondered what they might be worth.”
Francis’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across his features. “I doubt they’d be of interest to my clients. They prefer... specific items.”
Through the window behind him, I caught a flash of crimson. Rava stood outside, something glinting in her hand. Our eyes met across the distance. She blew me a kiss, her lips curving into a triumphant smile.
