𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝟏𝟐 || 𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄

"I'm told that a lot," I quipped, the words delivered with a hint of careless confidence. As I tilted my head, my hair cascaded against my shoulders, framing the moment in a subtle allure. "Does that surprise you?"

His whispered response cut through the air, carrying a note of intimacy. "Not in the slightest." I could feel the warmth of his proximity, the magnetic pull between us escalating with every heartbeat; especially when he pressed his hip into my own.

I stood there, a sense of paralysis gripping me, as if the air itself had solidified, leaving me confined between the wall and the heat of his body.

His hand, once innocently on the sides of my thigh, roamed higher; brushing upward along the slit of my dress with a tantalizing precision. The path his fingertips traced brushed against the delicate lace fabric of my underwear, sending a ripple of sensations through me. My breath caught in my throat, suspended between surprise and a growing desire that simmered beneath the surface.

"What does surprise me, however," he continued, his breath brushing my neck, "is that you haven't asked me to stop touching you."

I reacted impulsively, a surge of adrenaline propelling my hand to roughly brush his inked hand off me. My heart raced, each beat resonating through my veins, prompting a vibrating response through my skin. My lips parted to speak, but words eluded me, leaving me defenseless in the aftermath of Dominic's unexpected comment. Why hadn't I stopped him?

"Not so quick with words now, huh?" he teased, the playfulness in his tone contrasting with the charged silence that enveloped us.

"You're an asshole," I retorted, locking eyes with him, but he held my gaze just the same. "And you're shaking," he observed, his words a calculated observation. "Why is that?"

"Maybe you scare me."

"Maybe you're confusing scare with intimidation."

"Am I?" I asked, my fingers trailing down his tie, navigating the path to his chest, then tracing the outline of his abs through his shirt. The journey continued, reaching the pocket of his pants, where I deftly retrieved the gun that had pressed into my thigh. The metallic coolness felt both dangerous and provocative in my grip, though it was on safety. "Then again, I doubt you'd have the guts to use it."

"What makes you so sure?" he challenged, his gaze steady even as I held the weapon between us. "You saw me bloody at the restaurant."

"Yeah, looked like you handled yourself well," I remarked, my tone edged with sarcasm as I recalled the vivid image of him splattered in a crimson shade.

"You're one to talk when I'm the one who has you pinned against the wall."

"Yes, a defenseless woman—nearly a foot shorter than you. Congratulations on your grave accomplishment; I bet it feeds your ego," I shot back, my words a blend of defiance and thinly veiled frustration.

"Such a strong opinion on someone you don't even know," he observed, the air thick with the unspoken tension that defined our encounter. His gaze, penetrating and perceptive, seemed to dissect my every reaction.

What he said wasn't even a lie though. I did, in fact, have an unreasonable opinion of this man; whom I'd have to live with the rest of my life. But the feeling was only instinct, because for some reason, it felt like every man on earth was simply put in my life to piss me off.

"We should go," I suggested suddenly, my hand already reaching for the handle of the door. The sooner I could step away from Dominic, the better.

But before I could even fully grasp the handle, his grip closed around my wrist, his touch firm yet not forceful. I turned back to face him, my hair swirling around me in the sudden movement. "What are you doing?" I asked, my voice laced with a mix of confusion and wariness.

"Red," his gaze held mine, an inscrutable intensity in his eyes. "You're forgetting what people think we're in here for."

I pursed my lips. They thought we came in here to hook up, is what they thought. Shaking my head, I allowed my gaze to drift down to his tattooed hand, still firmly gripping my wrist. "I'm not hooking up with you just to please everyone else," I retorted, my voice carrying a mixture of exasperation and defiance.

Dominic's lips curved into a smug half-smile, the fire in his eyes undeniably alluring. "We don't have to hook up for their sake."

A rush of heat surged through me, a mixture of irritation and a tinge of something that I refused to acknowledge. "You're insufferable," I muttered, and to my surprise, he didn't respond.

I rustled my hair a little, making sure it wasn't too messy, then I rubbed my thumb over my lips, smearing it just barely. I turned back over to Dominic, who was watching me intently, leaning against the door. His hand worked on loosening his tie slightly, and then I caught myself watching him.

Once he had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, I opened the door again, and stepped outside of the bathroom with Dominic behind me.

"Where do we go now?" I muttered. The man tilted his head towards a table on our left side. There, Alec and Lena sat in silence. Once we neared the table, we sat down beside each other in plush white seats. It had been just under thirty minutes, so I assumed the auction would begin at any moment.

"You two look like you kept busy," Alec said just loud enough for our table to hear, diverting his eyes between Dominic and I. I looked down at my hands in my lap, slightly embarrassed. Even though we didn't actually do anything in the bathroom, I was still in the process of making a good first impression.

Lena teased a smiled at Dominic as he straightened out his tie, tightening it to the top of his collared shirt.

At least this meant our act was believable.

Dominic and I exchanged glances, looking at each other as if nothing happened in the bathroom, as if Dominic's words didn't still play in the back of my mind. He looked away once a man rose up to the stage, the sound of a microphone glitching filled the room.

His hands were shaking while they were wrapped around the object, his breath quivering even when he didn't say a word. I guess his stage fright went hard.

Suddenly, he dropped the microphone on the stage, making a loud banging noise echo in the large space. His free hand pulled out a dealt metallic object from his pocket, a gun.

My heart skipped a beat, or maybe it stopped, I wasn't sure. Everything was happening so fast that I could barely register it. He had just enough time to find his target from where he stood, and pointed the gun at our table.

I was frozen in place, my body paralyzed.

I anticipated a gunshot to go off, and surely it did, but it wasn't from the man onstage's gun, it was from Dominic. His hand gripped his own firmly, shooting the other man precisely in the gut.

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words (1700)