Page 30 of Make Me Hunt
“I’ve got something for you to do tonight,” he says, sipping his whiskey. “A lot of people are coming to see me tonight, and I don’t feel like dealing with them. You’ll intercept them and ask them to postpone things for another time.”
“Can’t your men handle that?” I mutter, seeing the blonde arching an eyebrow. I’m not here to play fucking hostess. If he’s going to give me a job, I want a real one.
But clearly, he doesn’t see it that way. “No, they can’t. They lack the necessary diplomacy. Besides, getting brushed off by a guard, hits differently than being asked by a… very attractive woman.” He pauses, looking me over from head to toe, like the fact that he’s having a different woman next to him doesn’t interfere with whatever this is between us. “I’ll be busy tonight.” He turns to look at the blonde sitting on his left. “Keep them out of my way,” he says, clipped enough to make me realize this is the end of our discussion.
Ugh, I could fucking strangle him right now.
This cold-hearted, selfish, self-entitled bastard thinks he can play me. Thinks I’m one of his toys; he can just pick up the moment he’s bored with the other one.
Ileave without giving him the satisfaction of seeing the anger on my face. Not that I can go too far since I still need to secure the perimeter around him. And I’m not mentally prepared to be dealing with this shit right now.
But he’s right about one thing—in the next few minutes, half a dozen people who want to talk to him show up, like he’s a fucking celebrity. Some of them probably paid the one grand entry fee just to do that. And it’s my job to tell them no.
Most take it better than others, but there are always a few who give me trouble and insist on speaking to him, not expecting that someone in a very tight dress and six-inch heels to kick them in the nuts and drag them out. That’s just for the ones who were too pushy for their own good, and who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, thinking that since I work for Ares, I must be attheir servicetoo.
I signal one of the guards to haul out my latest victim, and when I turn to look at Ares, his gaze is burning into me, his eyes running over my body like he’s picturing me naked. But then the woman next to him leans in and whispers something in his ear. His attention shifts to her instantly, a devilish grin blooming across his face. Then she jumps to her feet. That damn hand-sewn, bean-white dress molding to every perfect curve, her long golden hair cascading down over her shoulders, in an image so stunning it grabs the attention of everyone around her—men and women alike.
Her hips sway, coaxing Ares to join her, but he doesn’t look interested in dancing. He just watches her, almost untouched by her charms.
And honestly, if someone like her can’t impress him, I don’t stand a chance.
He suddenly gestures for her to lean in, then whispers something I can’t understand. Whatever it is, it gets her to laugh, her moves growing bolder, and a grimace tightens his jaw. She moves exactly how she looks: seducing, magnetic, hypnotizing. Her confidence is almost out of this world. But she’s fully entitled to own it. So much that I think she just defied Ares, judging by the pissed off look on his face.
I can’t even tell if I’m envious or impressed. I feel a surge of something unfamiliar washing over me. My temples are pulsing, my limbs tremble with nervous energy. And there’s a rising knot in my throat that makes me feel like I might gag. I blame it on the fact that I got played.
This isn’t jealousy. It can’t be. Jealousy comes out of feelings, and I don’t have any for Ares.
It’s just panic, fear that this might jeopardize my mission.
OrsoI tell myself.
I can’t believe the number of people who came to see Ares tonight—or the ordeal of having to stand in six-inch heels for almost six hours. My feet are burning, and this night should’ve ended with too much liquor, not with blisters.
I need a break, so I need to ask someone to cover for me for a few minutes. Told them I needed to use the bathroom. In fact, I just need to get the fuck out of there to fucking breathe.
I grab a glass of whiskey on the rocks from the bar. I need something strong to numb my senses, especially after six fucking hours of watching that blonde giggling and laughing around Ares. They haven’t kissed or shared any intimate gestures, but she’s wrapped her arms around his neck more than once to whisper something in his ear. Her whole act is luscious, sensual, screaming that they’re probably going to end up in bed tonight.
I take an even larger sip of whiskey and head toward the toilets. Not to go in, but just to keep a low profile for a few minutes. There’s another corridor where they keep the ice boxes. I go there and perch up on one for a few minutes—whiskey in hand, head tipped back against the wall. I just need this night to be over. Funny, considering I’ve been waiting five days for it.
I could kill Ares right now for making me feel this vulnerable. It’s like I’m back at square one with only five days left to figure all this shit out.
It has to happen this Halloween. There’s no other way. I have anotherprojectI’ve been postponing for too long—something that keeps me up at night until I deal with it.
thirteen
-Brynn-
I close my eyes just for a second, trying to deal with the shit in my head. And there’s a lot of it.
I don’t know what I’m doing with myself lately, and to totally confuse myself, I glance up just to see Ares walking up next to me.
“I’ll be right back. I just needed a second,” I mutter, annoyed I have to explain myself to him, but I don’t want to wait for him to give me shit about abandoning my position.
“Something bothering you back there?” he asks with a certain intonation in his voice.
Was something supposed to bother me back there?
I tip my head back for a brief second, trying to bite back my tongue. “Yes,” I murmur, my voice raw with exhaustion.
