And when she passed, my father made a deal he shouldn’t have, taking out a loan that he couldn’t possibly pay off. My fingers slip around the stem of the champagne glass as I take in the man the debt is owed to. Even if we liquidated everything, there’s no way Harrison’s debt could be paid.
My father never should have done it. The only blessing is that no one here knows. So here I am, to smile and look pretty, and hopefully, new deals will be made in the coming weeks. Even if they are a few weeks past due.
From the whispers I’ve heard, I would have thought Calum Harrison would stay in the shadows. I thought he’d wear a mask on the half of his face that’s scarred.
There’s no attempt at hiding from him in the least. With his sharp dark gray suit, tailored perfectly to fit his large muscular frame, he’d stand out even if he tried to hide.
Everyone keeps their distance from him, or so it would seem. He stands alone, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand as his gaze sweeps across the room.
He’s taller than I thought, more handsome, too. With stubble gracing his skin, I can barely make out the silver line that runs from his cheek down to his throat. It’s not the scar, though, that alerted me to who this man is. It’s the very air that seems to bend around him.
He is the epitome of dominance. Dark, sharp eyes and a hard jaw line only add to his powerful presence. In a group of ruthless, cutthroat men, he stands out from all the rest.
He can only be the beast. The debt that’s owed is owed to this man. The one man in the room I’m not to approach. A direct order from my father.
Like the air around him though, I feel drawn to him.
Until his eyes meet mine, and he steals my breath. My gasp is silent, but the heels of my shoes aren’t as I grab my clutch and flee as quickly as I can.
I cannot speak to him. I cannot approach him. I remember the last warning my father gave me: He is a monster.
I repeat the warning in my head as I slip through the crowd. ‘Excuse me’ is uttered every few steps as I pass guest after guest and questioning gazes through jeweled masks. I nearly trip on the expensive rug leading to a glittering garden away from the main dining hall. It’s quiet in the garden, away from prying eyes and away from that man.
It’s only once I’m able to sit that I let out a tortured breath. With the shock and innate instinct to run waning, I question what the hell I’ve just done.
Running all because a man looked at me. But when he did, when that piercing gaze hit mine, I swear he did more than just look at me.
Thank goodness for the champagne.
A deep breath and a sip. I blame my reaction on my nerves and the importance of tonight, until a darkly masculine voice alerts me that someone is here.
Turning slowly, I face the glass doors I’ve just come from to find the man I was hoping to avoid standing with that same penetrating gaze pinning me in place.
“You weren’t invited here.” His statement is simple and cutting. If he looked threatening before, all the way across the hall, he looks so much more so in the dim moonlight of the garden. The shadows dance across his handsome face.
“My father—”
“You are not your father,” he cuts me off.
With every ounce of strength I have, I answer calmly, “I am here in his place.” My palms heat with anticipation, and it’s only then that I realize all the ways I react to him. It’s not fear that makes my body bend to his.
A smirk ticks Harrison’s lips up, charming yet cruel in its intention. As if he knows exactly what I’ve just realized.
Although my thoughts race, I gather my composure and clear my throat. Swallowing thickly, I inform him, “I’m here on my father’s behalf, and I can assure you, your debt will be paid.
Harrison’s gaze wanders down my body and then back up to meet my own. He makes no response, no sign at all that he heard me.
My body tenses, and I’ve never felt more like prey caught in the eyes of a hunter.
When he takes his first step, it’s not towards me like I thought it would be. Instead, he moves his attention to a blood-red rose and plucks it. My heart races as I watch him move, stealthily and with purpose. There’s no one here but us.
“I know it’s past due, but I promise he will have every cent to you before the start of the next quarter,” I lie, and even to my own ears it sounds like a lie.
He stares at the rose that he twirls between his deft fingers as he speaks. “Do you know the men here?”
“Know them?” I whisper the question, my brow pinched.
“Do you know what they do?” he clarifies, and my heart races.
“They are executives,” I speak clearly, although inside I’m screaming.
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice isn’t harsh, but his tone is threatening.
With a tight swallow, I stay calm in my composure and take a single step closer to him. In the moonlight, his gaze shifts to my shoes, then back up. The shards of auburn and gold in his eyes shine back at me.
I answer again. “They are the men who run every aspect of this city. Drug dealers, murderers, and yes . . . executives. They control the wealth and the elected officials. They control everything.”
“Wrong.” The single word is rushed from his lips and he mirrors my action, taking one step closer to me. “I control everything.”
A cold sweat lines my skin, a shiver running down my spine as a gust of wind blows by us both. The smell of roses mixes with his masculine scent, and it’s heady, nearly dizzying.
I can only nod, “Yes. I know.”
“I could have your father killed.”
My heart lurches. “No. Please.” I nearly go to him, rushing to him to beg him not to, but he closes the distances between us before I can make that move.
Thump, thump, my heart protests, but my body stays right where it is as he towers over me. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand reaches for my throat. His fingers wrap themselves against my pulse one at a time. And all I can do is look into his eyes. There’s so much that swirls in that dark gaze.
“You lie to me.”
“No.” The attempt at shaking my head in denial is thwarted by his strong grip tightening. It’s only a warning.
“You just told me he could make his payment.”
My eyes open slowly, but I don’t make an attempt to respond.
“I should kill him and set an example. When men take my money and can’t pay it back . . .”
“Please,” I beg him again. My clutch falls from my grasp to the stones beneath our feet. My trembling fingers reach up to the fine fabric of his suit. “Isn’t there anything you want instead?” I question, and I’m very aware that the offer is leading.
So much so that when his eyes drift down my body, I’m certain he can see the hardened peaks of my breasts. I’m not a whore, and I’ve never offered myself to a man . . . but the tension between us is thick and undeniable.
“Yes, there is. You can take his place.”
“Not to die, I hope,” I make an effort for my statement to sound as if it’s a joke. But with his hand on my throat and the knowledge of what he could do to me, I can’t deny fear lingers under the lust.
Leaning closer to me, Harrison drops his lips to the shell of my ear to whisper, “There are many things a man like me requires. I’m sure you can think of something.”