Page 4 of Rotanev
He owned the suite with each step, drawing several stares to his chiseled features.
Perfection.
I had no better word for it. Everything about him was pure male perfection.
He moved with a purpose toward the bar, ignoring everyone and everything in his path. Including me, as he paused at the stool to my right to order an expensive label of scotch.
I considered stepping backward, or shifting around him to join the elderly man at the end, but my feet refused me. Just as I couldn’t stop myself from studying his profile.
Straight nose.
Square jaw.
Eyelashes of the darkest shades.
Thick, nearly black hair.
And eyes the color of the deepest depths of the ocean.
“It’s rude to stare,” he murmured, smirking at me. “Although, I suppose I can forgive the boldness if you promise to kneel for me later.”
Warmth crept up my neck at his words, as well as being caught in the act of gawking. An apology slipped to the tip of my tongue, only to be beat out by a witty reply: “I can think of worse punishments than having to kneel for you.”What. The. Hell. Was. That?
His eyebrow lifted, his lips curling into a devastating grin. “Perhaps we’ll explore those, too.” He fully faced me, his elbow resting on the bar. “In fact, I’m certain we will.”
The promise underlining his tone sent a bolt of lust straight to my gut. Confidence was an aphrodisiac, and this man redefined the meaning of the word.
“Liani,” I said, holding out my hand.
A flicker of surprise entered his irises, as if he hadn’t expected me to introduce myself. Was that against the code? Because no one told me not to say my name.
“Liani,” he repeated as if tasting the word. “That’s not your full name.”
An odd thing for him to say, but he wasn’t wrong. “No, it’s not. It’s short for Kailiani.”
Another wave of surprise loosened his features, as if he’d not expected such a name.
“It’s Hawaiian,” I explained awkwardly.
He tilted his head to the side. “Is it? Because I swear it’s the name of a siren.”
“From mythology?” I wondered out loud, thinking back on some of my college courses. “I’m not sure. I’ve not heard of a Kailiani. I just know it stems from Kailani in Hawaiian, which does mean ‘the sea’ or ‘the sky.’??”Why am I jabbering about this?This was not seductive conversation and had to be the wrong way to persuade a man into anarrangement.
“Fascinating,” he replied. “I’m Nero. Greek for ‘water.’??”
My lips curled. “Some might say we’re meant to meet, then.”
“Many would, yes.” The bartender returned with his drink, but Nero didn’t touch it, his attention solely on me as his gaze danced over every inch of my dress. “How old are you, Kailiani?”
I almost told him I preferred to be called Liani, but the way he spoke my name made it impossible to voice a correction. Because it sounded so perfect from his lips, soright. And wasn’t that strange? I barely knew this man, yet I could swear I’d heard him call me Kailiani before in my dreams.
He looked at me expectantly, reminding me that he’d just asked me something.
My age.
Right.
“Twenty-two,” I replied honestly.
