Page 3 of The Contract

Mystery Man says, half turning his body toward me.

“I didn’t realize that was forbidden atThe Wolfe.”

I still don’t look at him.

His chuckle is low. Smooth.

Like the deep timbre of a cello against silk.

It slides down my spine, brushing against something instinctual.

Something dangerous.

“Not forbidden,” he muses, his voice laced with amusement. “Just curious.”

I tilt my head, finally turning toward him.

His expression is unreadable.

But there’s something in his gaze that makes my pulse slow.

Deliberate. Calculating.

Like a puzzle he wants to solve.

Or a secret he wants to unravel.

He’sstudying me.

I let him.

“So, what brings you here?”

He lifts his glass of water, his fingers wrapped around the crystal like heownseverything he touches.

I shrug. “The steak.”

That slow smirk tugs at his mouth again.

“You don’t strike me as the type to indulge in something as simple as food.”

I arch a brow, feigning boredom.

“And what type do I strike you as?”

His blue eyes flicker over me. Just for a beat.

“The type that gets what she wants.”

For a fraction of a second, something inside mefalters.

It’s an unsettling feeling.

To beseenso quickly. So precisely.

He doesn’t know me.

Doesn’t know how many times I’ve had to claw my way toward the things I want.

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