Page 27 of Through You
He looks like a runway model, so why should he notice me, looking the way I do?
As we chat with Victor, we find out that he’s in charge of the operation of the club, which means he’s the person Artemis hired. He takes us upstairs to the VIP area, where can you get table service and enjoy the music, and you don’t have to scream to carry a conversation. Victor seems to be trying to impress Gin, and going by how much she’s blushing, I have a feeling it’s working.
To give them more privacy, I tell them I need to go to the restroom. I walk by other VIP tables until I come to a curtained entryway. Curious, I go through. It’s another section of the club, and as I walk by one of the booths, I realize this is where guests come to do god knows what away from prying eyes. I swear I can hear groans and whimpers, so I turn around and head back to where I came from.
Suddenly he’s right in front of me: Mr. Black Eyes.
“Are you lost?”
He’s even more attractive up close.
“No.”
He gives me a quick once-over, checking me from top to toe, until his eyes land on my face.
“You have a gift.”
I furrow my brows. “I beg your pardon?”
“How do you manage to look this good while dressed so ordinarily?”
What the fuck? Is this supposed to be some kind of compliment?
“Uh, thank you?”
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to insult your choice of clothes.
I just . . . I wanted to say that you’re very pretty.”
“And you’re even prettier. As fine as they come.”
Thisis why I prefer not to drink. It gets my hormones going and makes me uninhibited. And I’ve only had one drink.
Mr. Black Eyes throws me a sexy crooked grin, the kind I bet has made many girls fall for him.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
I curse my mind at this very moment when it flashes back to Artemis’s face. I’m not interested in him, and I’m certain that he doesn’t care much for me either. Anyway, he has a girlfriend. It’s very likely he’s enjoying her company right now. If our relationship is purely professional, why should I let him ruin my personal life?
“Sure,” I reply and follow him out of the private area.
Gin is too occupied to take notice of us when we get back to our table, mainly because she has Victor’s tongue jammed in her throat. Mr. Black Eyes looks at me, amused, and I simply shrug.
He gives me his hand. “Come on, let’s move to another table.”
The drinks keep coming, one after the other. Though Mr. Black Eyes tells me to slow down and take my time with each glass, I stop listening once the alcohol takes over my body and senses. The more I drink, the more I think about the idiot who owns this club.
What game is he playing?
One day he’s about to kiss me and the next he tells me he onlywants to keep things strictly professional?
Who does he think he is? Whoever said I wanted anythingmore than that? What a conceited ass.
Stop it, Claudia. Look at the fine specimen sitting across fromyou—he looks just like a model. You need to stop thinking aboutthat iceberg. But he’s just so . . . arrrrrgh!
I’m about to take another shot of tequila when Mr. Black Eyes grabs my hand midair. “Hey. Wait, wait, take it easy.”
I put down the drink. “I’m fine.”
