Page 11 of Michael
The handsome bartender finishes sweeping the bar with a cloth and nods with the sternness of a soldier. He grabs the telephone and makes a call.
“Dr. Michael…” I mumble, hoping to carve the guy’s name in my brain.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, walking me to the entrance. “Now, you get back home and rest.”
We stop at the doorway.
“Oh. There’s your ride already,” she says, pleased.
“Need some help, boss?” The bouncer by the doorway steps forward.
“If you would, Bobby,” the woman replies. “That’s her ride, right there.”
At this point, my focus locks on the ground and my feet. I don’t want to trip and fall again. I don’t care about making a fool of myself, but getting a giant bruise on my forehead is not in my plans.
In a flash, the bouncer sweeps me in his arms and carries me across the remaining distance to the car as if I weighed no more than a bag of chips.
“Safe travels,” he tells me warmly just before he slams the door shut.
Oh, sweet gods. I’m feeling woozy again. MaybeI really amdrunk. I might regret this in the morning, but I’m not sorry today.
“Where to, miss?” the driver says. His voice sounds familiar.
I blink twice, sharpening my stare, and look at the rearview mirror. Those eyes, feline and with a spark of malice… I know them. I should be feeling something in response: fear, surprise, a deep sense of anxiety brewing in my stomach. And yet, I’m completely numb.
“Is this real or am Ithatwasted?” I blurt.
A quiet laugh comes in reply. “Why not both?” he purrs before turning around with a charming smirk that gently eases into a wicked grin.
There’s no room for doubt then. My cab driver is none other than Richard, the demon. “Ugh…” I heave a sigh and slouch on the seat.
“Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” he teases, shooting up an eyebrow. “Come on.” He speaks under his breath, facing the wheel when he enters the gear. “Let’s get you home.”
“It’s not like I have much of a choice,” I reply. The words sail through clenched teeth.
“You’re safer with me than inside that bar, babe. That’s for sure,” he adds, presumptuous fucker.
I’d love to think of a witty comeback, but I remain silent. Exhaustion consumes me fast. I close my eyes only for a little while, but when I open them again, Richard’s parking in my driveway.
How long was I out?
He opens the door and just stands there, watching me with feigned concern. “How are you feeling?” he says. As if he cares.
When it becomes clear that I won’t give him an answer, Richard glides an arm beneath mine and helps me slip out of the car.
I can’t believe I’m in a situation where I actuallyneedhim, and I’m sure I won’t forget about his gesture tomorrow—if only I could.
“Met any interesting guys at the DeLux Café?” he asks while we walk to the door.
“I found my fated mate,” I say as we reach the front steps. Immediately, I wince, mad at myself. I wasn’t planning on telling him that. But then, the booze.
“Yeah… That’s nice, sweetie,” he says dismissively, waving a hand over the lock in a figure eight. Instantly, the lock clicks and turns of its own accord.
“I can take it from here,” I manage, standing in the doorway.
His fiendish hand glides down from between my shoulders to the small of my back. Richard’s voice turns sensual and enticing when he tilts forward and speaks in my ear, “I don’t think so, love.”
A thrill rushes down my spine. Oh, gods. His velvety voice is so sexy.Richardis stupidly sexy… I shake my head. Nope. It’s the booze talking. I don’t want him. He wants me to spend an eternity in hell.
