Obsidian Liquor (Lion Security #1)(7)
Author: Scarlett Dawn

I blinked in astonishment. It appeared the Mayor actually had a heart, even if I did not condone violence as the means to end a problem.

Nothing else of interest happened at the ball, and I still did not know what the hell to do about the fact I would most certainly have items stolen if I went back to my room tonight. My plan was to rent another room at the resort, but I was being followed. I was certain he was one of Daniil’s bodyguards that normally hovered around him. The rental car establishment still had not called with a replacement yet, so I could not leave without causing attention with a taxi to find a room elsewhere.

I was stuck until I figured out what the hell to do.

I meandered for a while until I made it to the lobby. There was a bar in one corner, and a drink was sounding swell at this point. The place had internet access so I could download my shots and work on my article that was due to my editor. Glancing behind me as I entered, I saw my tail stop and lean against a wall. He was blatantly staring now, not trying to hide the fact that he was following me.

Wonderful. When they stopped hiding, you knew you were done for.

A drink was sounding better and better.

He could not do anything to me in public, but I still needed to pick a spot that was not out in the open so I could write in peace. I was one of those people that needed absolute quiet to get the juices flowing. Same with reading a book. I just could not concentrate, and really be inventive, without solitude.

I slipped into a booth and ordered a dry whiskey. If I planned to drink, I was going to do it right. After sliding my laptop from my duffle, I put the memory card of my camera into it and started sorting through the pictures. I had some truly wonderful images. I had worried the action shots would not be decent, but I was pleasantly surprised to see I had not lost my touch for timing.

I nixed the pictures of Grigori kissing Zoya—with Ember in the background ready to kill them. That article was not anywhere near done. I would not publish a piece on mere hearsay. I wanted real evidence that she was stepping out on Brent and Cole, and that was only the beginning of the shots I hoped to acquire.

I finally decided on two pictures, one where Grigori was setting her shoulder and the last shot of them staring down at the unconscious men. As I drained the double whiskey brought to me, ordering another, I started writing my article. It really was going to be a fluff piece, because the charity did need some recognition, but with the pictures of Ember and Grigori as the centerpiece, it would be read by all. I was just finishing my second double, and reviewing my work, when a visitor arrived at my table.

Daniil sat down directly next to me.

Sadly, I did not notice him for a few moments; I was so engrossed in my work. I sat my glass down, and was grabbing for a napkin when I bumped him. I squeaked embarrassingly.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, quickly hitting send on my email. My editor could finish proof reading the damn thing. I had sharks to deal with.

Daniil rested back, placing his arms over the top of the booth and stretching out his long legs. He had not changed out of his black Armani suit from the ball. I still wore my dress, since I had not dared to go back to my room.

“I’m sitting, Ms. Forter,” Daniil grinned gracefully. “Your article looked lovely.”

I glared. The asshole had been reading over my shoulder. “I meant, why are you sitting with me? I didn’t invite you.”

He lifted my glass and brought it to his nose, sniffing at the empty. His nose crinkled in disgust, and completely ignoring me, he stated, “While we chat, you and I are going to have a drink together.” He placed the glass back on the table, motioning for the server. “But not the shit you were drinking.”

I bristled even further, and started packing up by belongings. “I don’t think so. To have a conversation that requires both people answering each other’s questions. You’ve ignored mine so far, and insulted me.” I scowled, struggling with the zipper on my duffle. “Besides, all you want to do is steal my equipment and scare me off any story I might write.”

He nodded, not at all remorseful. “Yes. I do. And I will. But first, we will talk.” A blatant command. I tugged harder on my zipper. The server arrived and he ordered an entire bottle of some expensive vodka I could not even pronounce—with two shot glasses.

Oh, the hell with that. I stopped struggling with my damn bag. I just needed to get out of here. But as soon as I started scooting around the booth’s half-moon cushion, I felt two large hands land on my hips in an unbreakable grip, sliding me back.

I smacked at his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m sitting, Ms. Forter. We’ve already established this.” He parked my ass right where I had started, releasing me, and settled back against the cushion. “This will go a lot smoother if you just sit there like a good little girl and shut the fuck up.”

I pointed at his face, past furious. “Look, old man. I’ve been intimidated and threatened by many people. It comes with the job. However, no one has ever gotten me to back off when I have a gut feeling. When I get these feelings, they always pan out. So whatever you’re going to say, just save it because it’s falling on deaf ears.”

He swatted my finger away, his gaze just as furious as mine. “Little girl, you do realize who the fuck I am, don’t you?”

I spewed, “A decrepit old man with a thug complex.”

His jaw set. He stared, leaning forward, and slowly stated, “You are either very stupid or very brave to speak to me that way.”

Probably both, I realized as his suit jacket opened a little, showing a gun underneath. I hated guns. Really, violence of any sort. I had actually thought twice about asking for this job when I had found out what the events were going to be.

However, I wanted to take the Donovans down. Badly.

The server sat a clear bottle of liquor down with two shot glasses.

I swallowed hard and pointed to her. I was not going to pay for that. In addition, I wanted to…his hand snaked out and landed on my thigh, keeping me in place when I tried to sneak away as he paid her. Two hundred dollars. Maybe I should steal the bottle when I finally managed my escape.

I scowled down at my lap, and started prying his pinkie finger up first from its death grip on my thigh. His ring finger. His middle. Then his pointer. I flicked his thumb last.

Hearing him chuckle, I blinked up at his gaze. The sound was low and deep, and very much masculine, and honest. I asked, “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you think you can get away.” His gaze roved over me, his nose crinkling in disgust like he had done with my whiskey glass – asshole. He shook his head. “You’ll only get hurt. Just sit, and drink with me.” It was my turn to shake my head, but he held up a hand. “I’ll make you a report’s deal. For every two shots we each take, we’ll each ask a question that has to be answered.” He glanced at me while opening the vodka. “Off the record, of course.”