Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(39)

“Yeah? Great. Thanks, man.” He reaches out to shake the tall man’s hand.

“You give me a call tomorrow so we can sort out the details. And talk to your uncle for me, okay?”

“I will,” Luke promises somberly. “I’m actually heading out to do that right now.” I can see the admiration he has for Aref in his eyes. That’s a little concerning. Being too trusting, too open with these kinds of people never works out. Guys like Aref get where they are by being as ruthless as they are generous. Whatever Luke may be involved in, I already know that I don’t want to find him lying in a gutter.

Someone taps Aref on the shoulder, and with one last salute toward Luke, he gets pulled into another conversation.

“That worked out well . . .” Luke murmurs, his hand settling on the small of my back. “Let’s get out of here.”

Luke’s Porsche coasts into my condo entrance with me silently wishing the Feds had gotten me one of these instead of my Audi.

“Thanks for tonight. It was . . . educational, seeing how the disgustingly rich live.”

He laughs, revving the engine, his gaze skating over my legs again. I’ve caught him doing it several times tonight. I need to keep him interested for another date, so I shift in my seat, casually letting my dress slide up just enough, given he seems to respond well to my body. He squeezes his eyes shut in response and begins whispering, “Glass . . . glass . . . glass,” under his breath.

“What?”

Heaving a sigh, he reaches over and pulls my hand to his mouth, muttering, “Nothing,” as he kisses the backs of my fingers. A gesture I have always written off as completely cheesy and yet somehow sends tingles straight to my thighs. I think Luke is seriously into me, a realization that may be making me excited for the wrong reasons. “I’ll give you a call this week. Maybe we can go out again.”

“I’d really like that.” Letting go of my hand, he leans back in his seat. I take that as my signal to leave, so I do. I can feel his eyes on my back all the way to the condo doors, before he peels out of the driveway.

And I silently accept that I don’t want the night with him to end.

Chapter 17

LUKE

The heavy, rhythmic bass at The Cellar is normally a soothing lullaby to me. But tonight it’s irritating.

Or maybe it’s Rust that’s getting under my skin.

“The way I see it, dealing with Aref makes way more business sense than wasting our time with Andrei and Vlad. He has his very own f*cking freight system, for Christ’s sake!”

“He’s young and he’s arrogant.”

“I’m young and arrogant!” I throw back.

“He comes from an endless supply of old money. It’s a dangerous combination. Look . . .” Rust leans forward, and his voice drops. “Aref’s already shipping all of our product. Who’s to say he won’t try to use that against us in the future? Hold us hostage, claim a bigger share.”

“You mean like Vlad?” I pause. “Aref seems trustworthy.”

“Don’t be naïve. You can’t trust anyone but your blood. You and me, that’s all.” Rust sighs. “Besides, we can’t just break ties with a man like Andrei.”

“But they’re being dickheads. They’re ripping us off. You said so yourself—you don’t want Vlad to have a monopoly on our business.”

“I was pissed off,” he mutters through a drink.

“Okay, fine. So we keep getting bent over a table and f*cked by Andrei and Vlad, but let’s see what Aref can do. It’s a big world. Why not have a partnership with him, too?”

“Going into business with anyone else while I’m in business with Andrei is risky.”

“What if I ran it? You keep your deal with Andrei and I deal with Aref.”

“There’s my entrepreneurial nephew . . .” He pats my back. “Let me give it some thought. No more talk of it now, though.” His eyes flicker up, past me, and he smiles. “There she is.”

The smell of coconut and flowers hits me. “Hey, Luke.”

I look over and up to get an eyeful. “Hey, Pris.” She likes showing her tits off in tight shirts and I can’t help looking at them, even though I’ve seen them so many times now, they’re no longer especially thrilling.

Her sharp blue eyes float over my empty glass. “How about I drive your car home for you?”

I’ve had too much to drink. That’s always her excuse to get into my bed. I guess she didn’t ensnare any sugar daddies tonight and her ego’s taken a hit. Her confident stride, her nose in the air—it’s all an act. I remember when this all started between us, when I first came here with Rust, started meeting his friends, his associates. Started being treated like a man. She was already working behind the bar. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. I thought I was such a lucky bastard when she started flirting with me. I heeded Rust’s warnings, though—he was right about the kind of girl she is—and kept my heart out of it.

And because I did, we’ve become odd friends. Or at least, we’re comfortable together. We’ve gotten past the acts we put on for others. Neither of us pretends to be something we’re not. We’ve been playing this game for a year and a half now. Long enough that I can tell her to wipe that bright pink lipstick off her lips before they come anywhere near me tonight.