Page 89 of Safe Word

Had I pushed too far? The scratching, the sounds he made… They’d thrilled me, but doubt crept in anyway. He had gasped, his body had trembled. There hadn’t been any sign of resistance.

Turning to the mirror, I studied my reflection one last time, exhaling a long, tired breath.

The dress hugged my figure perfectly, the slit teasing just enough skin to turn heads without getting me fired. With a critical eye, I looked myself over.

Did I look professional? Sure.

Did I also look like I might lose my job for the way I wore this dress around Cain? Absolutely.

A grin escaped me. The idea of Cain flustered – just for a moment – uncoiled a thread of satisfaction deep inside me. And really, what kind of an XX chromosome representative would I be if I didn’t poke at those embers just a little more?

I headed for the door, ready to face whatever the night carried – D’Angelo and Ghost.

It took me fifteen minutes to get to the club. More than that to find a fucking parking spot, even though the organisers had included a one-time VIP parking card with the author’s ticket.

The moment I stepped into the club, the air clasped around me like a jealous lover’s grip. The light was low, mostly bathed in neon hues of red and blue that painted the vast walls and polished floors in a surreal glow. Regular lights dotted the space sparingly, their softer illumination casting the occasional highlight on the parade of people filtering in. Conversations vibrated low and intimate, threading through the subdued thrum of music.

As I walked deeper inside, the air shifted. Male hosts and hostesses prowled the entrance like dancers trained to seduce. Every step was rehearsed, every glance loaded. They played their parts with inspiring ease, exuding charm and confidence that bordered on aggression, their steps calculated to intimidate and entice.

Two of them moved directly towards me, masks obscuring their faces. Their bare chests gleamed under the neon light, the subtle ripple of muscles drawing my gaze like a magnet. Air snagged in my throat with sudden, irrational hope that it might be him.

Ghost?

I froze for a fraction of a second, my gaze darting over the first man. He was lean and chiselled, his chest and arms inked with intricate tattoos – none of them the compass, the anchors, and the maps I had come to memorise. Relief and disappointment mingled uneasily as my attention shifted to the other.

His broad, unmarked chest told me everything I needed to know – he wasn’t Ghost either.

Relaxing, I allowed myself a small, appreciative smile, giving them both a slow, deliberate once-over as they attempted to intimidate me – just a role they played. But I faced them squarely, even when their masks came close enough to catch my breath.

‘Are you scared, little one?’ one of them growled.

Before Ghost, I might have flinched, the old Paula would have folded, spine soft and pulse wild. But he’d burned that weakness clean off.

Now? As soon as that old fear stirred, Scarlett lifted her head from the darkness in that slow, feline, unbothered way, and make me stand a little taller.

‘Are you?’ I asked in a slow purr, silked with challenge rather than fear.

As they withdrew, I took them in again. They were gorgeous, each in their own way, and I could feel their gazes on me as I walked past, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Cain was seated at a merch table near the entrance, watching everything from his perch like a king commanding the chaos as if it was his. His eyes were already on me, pinning me in place before I even realised I had slowed my gait. The hungry look in his dark, honeyed gaze was undeniable, his jaw tight and his body taut, as if he were holding himself back from something. The light caught the sharp angles of his face, making him appear even more imposing, even more magnetic. He hadn’t shaved either.

I quite liked that look on him. It blurred the edges of the perfect persona he’d been trying to exemplify.

A shiver ran through me, the strength in his gaze doing something wicked to my stomach. My skin prickled under the weight of it, heat blooming at the back of my neck as I watched his attention rake over me until it settled on my face again.

His posture was casual as he leaned slightly back in the chair, but the way his hand rested on the desk, fingers drumming a few times before stilling, betrayed the tension in his shoulders.

To his side sat Vinnie, his usual debonair charm dulled by glazed eyes and a smirk that spoke of indulgence. A lithe and beautiful girl was tucked under his arm, her face turned up towards him with a coyness that matched the atmosphere. I ignored the fact that she was twenty years younger than him.

Vinnie noticed me, nudging Cain lightly with his elbow. Cain’s gaze veered to him briefly in warning before returning to me, his expression unreadable but no less intense.

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ Vinnie said smoothly, excusing himself as he stood and offered me a wink. The girl under his arm giggled, clinging to him as he guided her towards the bar, already murmuring something in her ear.

And then it was just us.

The noise and movement of the convention faded, leaving only the heavy thrum of blood in my ears and Cain’s steady gaze tethered to mine.

My pulse throbbed, but I held myself together, even as a part of me wanted to fidget under the scrutiny.