Page 12 of Twisted Knight

No.

At least he’s honest.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs in that deep rumble of a voice that sounds like gravel dipped in honey. Smooth with a little grit to it.

“So that’s why you’re here? Opportunity? To throw your money around and let it be known you’re here to play?”

“Why are you so concerned with how I throw my money around?” Holden asks but then looks over my shoulder and surveys the crowd. There is something about the look on his face—a bristling, a distaste, a … something that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s there when he meets my eyes again. “It’s benefiting the charity you’re championing, is it not? Or do you not care about the cause and are simply here to see and be seen?” He tilts his head. “My bet’s on the latter.”

“And your bet would be wrong.” I cross my arms over my chest in a defensive position. “The money being raised is pretty much the only positive thing happening tonight.”

“And here I thought you were going to say the only positive tonight was meeting me.” The dry sarcasm in his voice has a smile tilting up my lips.

“Of course. Forgive me.” In a move that even surprises me, I reach out and run a hand down his bicep. His arm tenses beneath the fabric of his jacket. Our eyes hold, challenge, and then that smile playing at the corners of my lips curves wider. “I forgot the proper response to all of your flattery was to fall at your feet.”

“There’s only one reason I like women at my feet and it’s not because they fell.” He quirks an eyebrow as his eyes darken and nostrils flare ever so slightly.

The comment is crude and unexpected, but hell if it doesn’t have me wondering about the man beneath the suit. It’s not like I needed prompting. I’ve been wondering that since our eyes first met. “I’m sure you get all the women with lines like that.”

“You’re still standing here, aren’t you?” The muscle ticks in his jaw as his challenge settles between us.

“Me being out here has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.” I glance over my shoulder at everyone inside and my head swims. Guess that last martini hit me harder than I thought.

“Them?”

“Do you ever notice you respond to almost every comment with a question?”

“Humor me, Rowan,” he says, and there’s something about the way my name sounds on his lips—almost an intimacy to it—that has chills chasing over my skin. “What is it about them that you’re wanting to avoid so badly that you’re standing out here with a man you don’t know and aren’t quite sure you want to?”

He eyes me above his glass as he takes a slow sip. His tongue darts out to lick away an errant drop, and I have to force myself to meet his eyes again. He makes me uncomfortable and turned on at the same time. I’ve never felt that combination before, and I’m not quite sure that I want to.

“I don’t like their rules,” I finally say.

“I’m not one for rules much either but I have a feeling we’re talking about two completely different sets of them. Care to narrow this down for me?”

“My family’s.” It’s something I shouldn’t admit, but god does it feel good to be able to say something to someone who doesn’t know us. Who doesn’t look at me as a bystander when that’s all everyone else in the goddamn town does. Who is new in town and not under the veil of their bullshit yet. A nervous chuckle falls from my lips, but it doesn’t stop my admission.

“They have rules?” he scoffs.

“To look pretty and keep my mouth shut.”

He’s quiet for a beat and then he nods. “From where I stand, I’d say you’re successful at the first. Not so much at the second.”

Something about his comment bolsters me. The gin probably helps too. “Well, this is as close as I get to being quiet. Take me or leave me.”

“Apparently I don’t have a choice seeing as you’re still standing here, interrupting my scotch with small-town gossip I really don’t give two fucks about.”

“Oh, you’ll fit in just fine around here,” I murmur. He makes those comments yet his eyes look like they want to devour me.

“Meaning?”

“Nothing is what it seems in this place. And I have a feeling you are much the same.” I shrug. “Like why it is you’re here.”

“To buy a painting?”

“Bullshit. No one is here to just buy a painting. Everyone has another reason. What’s yours?”

“My reasons don’t matter and frankly are none of your business.”