Save Me from Dangerous Men (Nikki Griffin #1)(85)

Silas was back. “Still here.” He grinned. “I wasn’t sure if you’d run away.”

“I’ve never much liked running away from people.”

The lawyer sat back down and raised his glass.

I watched the rim ascend.

The glass stopped just shy of his mouth. He was giving me a strange look.

He put the glass back down on the counter.

“Everything okay?” My tone was casual but I was running the last several minutes, and several nights, back and forth in my mind, wondering. Had he seen something or recognized me? What could have given it away?

He shifted the glass around on the bar, still watching me. “Your face,” he finally said.

“My face? What about it?”

His eyes were narrowed as if trying to place me. As if there was some kind of delayed-fuse recognition process occurring. Depending on what he said, I’d need to either bluff or leave the hotel. Quickly. And then figure out how to get what I wanted with the addition of a very suspicious lawyer who would be asking all kinds of questions on behalf of his clients. An outcome that would turn an extremely difficult problem into a hopeless one.

He pointed a finger toward my face. “Those bruises—what happened?”

I realized with relief he was just noticing the marks left by Victor in my brother’s apartment. They had faded a little and I had used makeup to cover the worst, but bruising was still visible. “Slipped and fell,” I said apologetically. “I guess maybe I’m just a bit of a klutz.”

The lawyer smiled affectionately. “Now you don’t have to worry. You have me here to catch you.” He raised his glass again and gulped half the drink. His brow furrowed. He looked like he’d sucked on a lemon. He called over to the bartender. “You way overdid the bitters, Brian. Remake this, will you?”

The bartender came over and removed the offending glass. He emptied it into the sink and made another Manhattan and placed it back in front of the lawyer. “Apologies. Hope that’s better, sir.”

Silas took a judgmental sip. “Considerably.” He turned his attention back to me. “Now, where were we?” He answered his own question. “Ah, yes. You were going to tell me all about yourself.”

Like some men, he had the habit of meaning the opposite of what he said. I hadn’t much felt like talking about myself, but I needn’t have worried. What the lawyer really meant was that he wanted to talk about himself. And he did. I learned all about the important cases he handled and the giant settlements he negotiated and the huge fees he commanded. I learned about his unfortunate treatment at the hands of his ungrateful wife, and his upcoming divorce, and how unfair it was that he had to give her so much of his hard-earned money. “She had me followed!” he exclaimed, like he was still upset by the whole thing. “Photographed, even! Can you imagine?”

“I guess I can picture it.”

The conversation shifted as he ordered another drink. I was still sipping my original glass of wine. He kept talking. I learned about his views on everything from why the Sundance parties were overrated to the mistakes we made on foreign policy. I learned about the beautiful, exclusive vacations he took and what great Warriors seats he had, thanks to having represented a friend of the owners in some long-gone case. “Play your cards right,” he added, “and maybe you can come to a game with me. Bet you’d like that.”

“I always try to play my cards right,” I said, my voice soft and now a little flirtatious.

He finished his drink and turned to me. He seemed a little drunk. His face was flushed. “You know, you’re very beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone at a bar?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

I looked directly into his eyes. “I’ve been watching you.”

He liked that. “Really? You were watching me?”

I nodded. “I’ve been watching you like you wouldn’t believe.”

He seemed to like that even more. His eyes were all over me. “I have a beautiful suite upstairs,” he said. “Best suite in the whole place. Come up for a drink.”

“A drink,” I repeated. “I suppose I could handle that.”

His face lit up. He was happy. The night was going beyond well. “Perfect.” He called over to the bartender again. “I’ll take the check, Brian, and give me a bottle of champagne and an ice bucket, will you? Veuve, not Dom,” he added more quietly. For all his ostentatiousness, the lawyer didn’t seem opposed to cutting corners if he could get away with it.

While Silas signed the check, the bartender put a bottle of yellow-labeled champagne in a silver ice bucket. He loaded ice into the bucket and then folded a white napkin into a thin rectangle and draped it around the lip of the bucket. A nice touch. The lawyer seemed indifferent. He grabbed the bucket with one hand and my arm with the other. “Upstairs we go,” he said.

He was right. He did have a beautiful suite. No way to tell if it was the nicest in the hotel, but it was a nice one. A big corner suite on the top floor. A large dining area and a living room substantially bigger than my own. A balcony revealing the lights of the city. There was a bedroom off to the side. Through lace-curtained French doors, a king bed lurked. With no forewarning, Silas embraced me and tried to sloppily kiss me. One hand felt its way to my behind. I pushed him away. “I thought you were offering a drink.”