In a few strides, I cross over to the bar and signal to Miss Deveroux, who is standing on the far side of the bar with her kohl-rimmed eyes fixed on the client in front of her. She looks over at me, and a long moment passes before she offers the client a smile. Then she’s standing in front of me with her brows furrowed. She sets the whiskey bottle down in front of me and quietly withdraws.
Even she can tell I’m not in the mood for chitchat.
There’s a low thrum in my ears when I finish my fourth drink and reach out to pour another one. Something moves in the corner, and I turn to it. A redhead in fishnets, black shorts, and a top that barely keeps her chest in place slides over the stools. She stops when she’s next to me and leans forward, offering me an ample view of her cleavage.
Slowly, she places a hand on my arm and strokes the bare flesh. “It’s been a while.”
“I don’t have anything for the next few hours,” she continues, batting her lashes as her lips spread into a slow smile. “You look like you could use a little fun.”
I lean back and study her. “What makes you think I want it with you?”
The woman—Amber—smiles wider. “We’ve had our fun. Word on the street is I lasted longer than some of the other girls.”
I frown and set down my glass. “That’s not the kind of thing you should be discussing.”
But I have bigger things to worry about than what the rumor mill says about my sex life.
Amber pouts, and her finger trails farther up. “You’re right. There should be less talking and more fun.”
I pick my glass up and take another sip, and my eyes move over her face.
Amber and I had fun for a few weeks, and while the prospect of spending the next few hours taking my sweet, torturous time with her was once appealing, it does nothing for me now.
She’s not London.
She will never be, and no other woman here holds a candle to her.
Fuck me.
London has power over me, and I don’t even care.
All I want is to crawl back to her and bury my face in her hair.
“Find someone else,” I tell Amber. “I’m not in the mood.”
Amber shifts closer, as if she’s about to sit on my lap. “I bet I can change your mind if you give me enough time.”
I narrow my eyes at her and set my glass down, slowly and deliberately. “It would be a shame if you had to find an alternate form of employment, especially with all that money you owe.”
Amber’s expression shifts and falls. “I’m just trying to show you a good time. God knows you look like you need it.”
“Mind your damn business,” I snap. “And get back to work. I didn’t hire you to sit on your fucking ass and waste your time.”
Amber mumbles something and tosses her hair over her shoulders.
I feel her eyes on me as she saunters off, but I ignore her and pour another drink. There’s a warm, buttery feeling in my veins. I’m studying the drink and imagining going back to London when I spot a familiar head of hair. With a frown, I turn to it, and I see her standing across the room in knee-length boots and her signature leather jacket.
Her lips lift into a half-smile when our eyes meet.
Frowning, I grab a bottle and make a beeline for her, nearly barreling into a group of women leading handcuffed and blindfolded men around. As I reach her, she turns and disappears into the hallway. In silence, I follow her until we reach my office. She pushes the door open and waits for me to brush past her.
Inside, I set the glass on my desk and turn around to face her. “I’m surprised they sent you.”
Jennifer Harrison shuts the door behind her. “I asked to be included.”
I raise an eyebrow and sit down. “I thought you said you didn’t want to do any dirty work?”
Jennifer laughs. “It’s a chance to broker an alliance with one of the most powerful families in the city. Like hell I was going to be sidelined for this.”