Blue nods, slipping almost seamlessly into soldier mode as he comes around the bar, starting in on the crowd gathered at the front exit.
Malevolence drives the beat of my heart, pumping chaos through my veins as I stalk back to my office to check on the girl. She’s sprawled out on the leather sofa, mouth parted slightly as she lets out a soft snore.
I have half a mind to just trap everyone inside and set fire to the building. Put the flaming in The Flaming Chariot. But that isn’t something I would be able to recover from financially, after having already sunk my life savings into restoring the place and buying Kal’s shares.
Plus, that would be too extreme a course of action, given the fact that I loathe the Primroses. Defending Lenny’s honor certainly goes against the immoral code I’ve lived by for the last decade; even keeping her in my office now so she can sleep peacefully feels like a mistake, but it’s too late to backtrack now.
“This seems like an overreaction.” Kal’s hand comes down on my shoulder, and he shakes me as he glances past me.
“Yes, well, you certainly have experience in that department, Anderson.”
He chuckles, letting his arm drop. “Indeed, which is why I’ll be the first to tell you to tread lightly.”
“That your official prescription, doctor?”
“No. Retired, remember? All the advice I give now is strictly below board.”
Pausing, he adjusts the collar of his suit jacket, revealing the small pomegranate tattoo on his wrist. I cock a brow at the ink, aware of the Hades and Persephone dynamic he and his wife indulge, but don’t question it.
“Give her two Tylenol when she wakes,” he says, reaching around to rub the back of his neck. “Whatever made her black out will likely give her a headache when she’s conscious again. If you want answers, make her comfortable first.”
“Comfortable.” I scoff, disgust filling my chest. “I should dump her arse out on the street. Would serve her daddy right for letting her come out tonight unattended.”
“Still plenty of opportunity for you to be the bad guy.” He heads to where a waitress guards the back exit, lifting a single hand in goodbye without turning back.
The crowd grumbles as they hear a door shut, and I glare harder at the unconscious girl taking up space in my life. As if the complications she created that night at her party weren’t enough, now she’s quite literally bringing trouble to my fucking doorstep.
And what was that about pretending to date?
There wasn’t even time to point out the absurdity of the notion before she’d passed out. Though I can’t be sure if it was her suggestion or the drugs.
Scrubbing a hand down the side of my face, I step inside the office, letting the door fall shut behind me. Swiping a bottle of Jameson from the sideboard against one wall, I prop up against the wood drawers, unscrew the cap, and take a swig.
The moment the glass mouth touches my lips, Lenny’s green eyes pop open. She doesn’t even seem confused as our gazes connect, something weighty and silent ebbing between us like an electric tether.
Her comfort sends a jolt of unease through me, wrapping around my sternum and refusing to release.
Almost as if she isn’t surprised to find herself in my office.
Like that’s exactly where she planned on being all along.
“See? Would a drugged person be awake already?” she asks, her pink lips barely moving.
“Depends on the dosage.”
She shoves her hands beneath her cheek, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “Have you ever drugged anyone?”
Bringing the bottle back to my mouth, I suck down another gulp instead of answering.
“Are you going to kill me?”
My jaw clenches. “I’m debating it.”
Sighing, she rolls onto her back, smoothing down the material of her cream-colored skirt. She folds her hands over her chest, and I inch toward her, inexplicably drawn to the aloofness she radiates.
People tend to be many things in my presence. Petrified, resentful, or perhaps even aroused.
Ambivalence is not something I see often, and I find that alarming.
The whiskey bottle is heavy in my fist as I stop mere centimeters from the sofa. Her gaze is fixed on the ceiling, her lush tits threatening to spill from the cups of the lace top she wears. I trace the curvature of her cleavage, trying to rectify this seductress with the modest, proper girl always shown in the tabloids.
It’s almost as if she came dressed for temptation, and I wonder if the party at Primrose Manor was some sort of trap. Perhaps Tom expected me to show up, and she revealed my identity the second I left the property.
Maybe he’s the one who reported the body and paid to have the autopsy results sealed. By the time I’d sent one of my guys over to make sure the manner of death wasn’t released, all evidence pointing to anything but suicide had been taken care of.
“You don’t intimidate me,” Lenny says after a stretch of silence passes between us.
I blink, my eyes snapping to hers. “What?”
“If that’s what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”
Her shoulder is right in line with the hand at my side; all I’d have to do is lift a finger, and it’d brush against soft skin. My pinkie twitches, as if pining itself.
“Why would I be trying to intimidate you?” I ask, hooking my fingers inside of my trousers pocket instead. “Need I remind you that this is my pub, and I didn’t invite you here?”
“Yeah, and that must ruffle your feathers. I bet you’re used to snapping your fingers and having people fall over themselves to do your bidding. Does it bug you that you can’t tell me what to do, Mr. Wolfe?”
The sound of my name rolling off her tongue does something wickedly violent to the state of my well-being. A single syllable dancing in the thick air around us, teasing the hair on the back of my neck.
Pushing her feet off the side of the sofa, Lenny pulls herself into a sitting position, turning and extending her legs so the black heels she has on slip between my boots. She arches her back, swiping those golden-brown locks off her shoulder, and peeks up at me through hooded lashes.
My feet turn inward, trapping her ankles between them. “You’d do well not to make such antagonistic assumptions, little puppet. Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I won’t. I’m more than happy to rearrange my plans.”
Defiance flashes in her glassy gaze, and her hand sweeps out, snatching the bottle of whiskey from me. She tips it back against her mouth before I can stop her, throat working as she guzzles the amber liquid.
The opening of the bottle is slightly larger than she seems to expect, though, so some of the whiskey escapes, spilling down her neck and cascading across her chest.
Try as I might not to look, I can’t bloody help it; my eyes flock to her dampened flesh like a prepubescent boy’s would, and she catches me. Lifts her free hand and drags her manicured fingers through the mess, before licking the tips clean.
My cock stiffens, pressing against the fly of my trousers. The entire situation is so wildly inconceivable that I give myself a pass for finding weakness in such an obvious gimmick.
What possible reason is there for the way she’s acting, other than being sent by her father to seduce and destroy?
“Explain yourself.” Being this close to her cinches the nerves in my chest, squeezing until it’s difficult to breathe. “Why are you here?”