Relinquish(19)

The pull I have toward Landon is strong. I feel like a precious metal, and he’s the strong element that draws me toward him, even when I know it’s wrong… like now.

Landon takes us to a very upscale bar which sits just beneath an elegant hotel. A man in a red vest opens my door, helping me out as soon as we arrive.

“She’s with me, Franco,” Landon informs the man standing outside the glass double doors to the bar. Franco is wearing a black tux, sunglasses on his face even though it’s nighttime. Once inside, the place isn’t what I expected for a bar. Small tables with red cloths draped over them are dotted around the room, little candles sitting in the center of each one. A man plays a piano at the front of the room, and a bar sits at the back with people wearing suits and cocktail dresses drinking along the counter. I’ve never been in a bar, but whenever I thought of one, I imagined grimy floors, the smell of booze and vomit, and music so loud you had to shout to one another.

“Sit,” Landon commands, pulling a chair out. I comply, taking a seat and crossing my legs.

“This is not what I expected for a bar.” I laugh nervously, looking the place over.

Landon raises an eyebrow, rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his elbows. The candlelight shines off his distinguished jawline, and I notice dark stubble growing along his face, his sharp cheekbones fierce as he looks at me with hard eyes. I stir in my seat; the way Landon looks at me could be compared to a caveman witnessing a female for the very first time.

An initial glance at Landon and your first thought would be he’s handsome and sophisticated, but really looking at him up close, you can see the small sliver of a scar slicing the cupid bow of his upper lip. It’s small, but there. Landon’s not as clean-cut as he wants the world to believe. He’s something darker.

“And what did you expect, exactly?” Landon grins deviously.

“I dunno.” I laugh. “People drunk, singing karaoke. Something dive-y.”

Landon chuckles, running his large hand over his cheeks.

“How old are you, Charlie?” Landon lowers his head, his green eyes pinning me in my seat. I shift my legs, an unbearable throb heightening in my core.

“Old enough,” I reply, lifting an eyebrow.

“Right,” Landon responds, not giving anything away with his tone or body language.

“What can I get you, sir?” a waiter questions, breaking Landon’s severe gaze toward me.

“I’d like a Manhattan, and a martini for the lady,” Landon orders. The waiter bows and walks away. Silence falls between us, the man playing the piano a filler for the awkwardness.

“I told you those boys were trouble,” Landon reminds me, sitting back in his seat.

I sigh and nod. I knew he was going to say that, eventually. “Yes, you did,” I clip, looking at the flame of the candle and desperately hoping he drops the subject.

“Some of Chasen’s buddies were on the news some time back for drugging a college girl. The news showed a group photo of the guys at the party where the event took place, and Chasen was named among them. They were cleared, but still, if Chasen is hanging around those kinds of guys, what does that say about him?”

I frown at the information, angry with myself for not digging deeper into Chasen’s explanation when I asked him about the tension between him and Landon. Seeing what Chasen and his friends were about to do to me, I’d say Chasen is just like them. They prey on young, clueless girls.

“Why were you with him?”

I look up, finding Landon staring at me intently. This man is so intense; it’s nerve-wracking. I shake my head and give a small laugh.

“I was his whore,” I respond matter-of-factly. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent aware of my actions with Chasen, I enjoyed it to an extent.

Landon doesn’t even flinch at my words, just stares at me with those green eyes flecked with brown. I bite my lip, a little disappointed I didn’t shock him with my brashness.

Giving Landon a once-over—with his expensive-looking clothes, the way he talks with such grace, and the snazzy bars he goes to—it makes me wonder why in the hell he’d be around the area where I live.

“Why do you hang out at the café? Why would you hang out in a place full of college kids?” I question.

Landon smirks and looks toward the table. “Let’s just say, it’s nice to get away from where I live every now and then. People I know wouldn’t look in such an area for me,” he explains, his voice deep and rugged.

“You mean the ghetto. Your uptight, working colleagues wouldn’t find you in the shittiest place in Vegas,” I clarify, my tone coming off bitchy.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, Charlie,” he responds sternly, and I tilt my head to the side and sigh.

“I’m just telling you what I see,” I mutter.

The waiter brings us our drinks, setting them down before us. I grab mine and take a big sip. My mouth is engulfed in the nasty liquid, and an expression of distaste crosses my face. I hover over the martini glass, contemplating spitting it back out. I look up, finding Landon chuckling at my reaction. I close my eyes tightly and swallow, not wanting to spit the drink all over myself and the table. The disgusting taste causes me to nearly gag.

“I take it you don’t approve?” Landon questions with a smirk.