Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 7

Holy. Crap.

The other man lets out a startled grunt, stares for two seconds, and then runs out of the room.

I turn back to my hero and smile.

And when he smiles back, clearly proud of thinking quick on his feet, it makes my knees wobble.

"Please tell me you're not actually eighteen," he says.

"Oh, jeez. You heard that?" I straighten my dress and step back. "Before you accuse me of underage drinking, I promise I'm twenty-one. Got my ID in here somewhere to prove it…"

He puts his hand gently on mine as I fumble for my purse. "Don't bother. I don't need it."

"Oh, um, okay."

"Just couldn't help noticing you were alone and stuck with that greasy fuck. Cruel of your friends to leave you marooned with these piranhas. You with Kayla?"

So he knows her. Not a shock, I guess.

He doesn't know my name, of course. I'm not sure we should even bother introducing ourselves, but maybe I can forge a new identity for tonight. He'll never know.

"Are you another piranha man?" I ask.

"Not tonight," he says with another smile that slays. "Just a handsome stranger."

"Did I say you were handsome?" I raise an eyebrow. "Nah. I can hear your thoughts."

Oh my God, I'm laughing.

There's no way this guy doesn't know how freakishly gorgeous he is, but there's also no chance I'm about to play into his ego.

"Well, I suppose you're not bad," I say, following his lead as he strolls across the room. "Where are we going?"

"Roulette."

"Big gambler, huh?"

He glances down at me. "I feel lucky tonight."

We find space at a roulette table. I cling to his arm as he trades a wad of cash for dark-blue chips.

This is wildly out of my comfort zone. I feel like people should be staring at me for being with someone like him, but for some reason no one questions it.

"What do you think?" he asks me. "Red or black? It's an easy choice." "Red," I decide. "It matches my dress."

"Red it is. And what's your favorite number?"

"Why? You're already trying to steal my social?" Then I laugh, because there's nothing as absurd as a guy who looks this hot and rich being interested in my social security number. "My favorite number's eight, so go with that."

He nods at the guy in charge of the table, who spins the wheel once everyone's bets are in.

The tension thickens as the ball slowly loses momentum, tripping over the numbers until it settles on a red eight.

We win several rounds and leave a lot of jaws hanging on the floor, at least for the people who don't walk away in pure disgust. By the end of the game, he's got a whole stack of chips.

"This calls for a victory drink, Lady Bug." He takes my hand and pulls me back to the bar. "What's your poison?"

"Oh God, I don't know. I've had a lot of poison tonight, that's for sure." No joke. The world has devolved into random shapes and colors and him. "Whatever you're having."

He orders a neat whiskey that slips down as easily as melted butter, and before I can stop him, he's pulling me onto the dance floor.

Oh, I'm a hot mess. Putty in his hands.

And those big, warm hands are on my back now. My chest is pressed against his, and I'm gazing up at him like those blue eyes are offering me the secrets of the universe.

"I'm not a lucky person so this is really weird," I whisper. "Like, it's bad. I'm a human black cat."

"You feel lucky to me." He slides a hand down to my ass and squeezes. "And I can feel you pretty well."

"Oh my God."

Did I say that out loud? No, I moaned it instead. I am so, so screwed.

The crazy part is, I'm not even bothered by it.

"Too far?" He dips his head closer, his gaze firmly on my mouth. "Tell me and I'll stop right now."

I am going, going, gone.