A Six-Pack & a Shot at Love (Love on the Rocks #1)
Dixie Lynn Dwyer
Prologue
Venetia “Vin” Lockatelli tightened up the moment she felt Conan’s hand on her hip. She hadn’t seen him all night, for, if she had, then she would have hightailed it out of here an hour ago.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered in that deep, commanding tone. His one hand held her hip firmly, making her shiver with fear, and he used his other hand to caress her back with his palm until his hand was under her hair and against the back of her neck. He squeezed, and she gasped.
“Let go of me,” she whispered, not wanting to make a scene. She damned herself for coming here and wondered if her friend Kylie knew that Conan would be attending. A year away from the man was not enough time, obviously.
She went to step forward, and his other hand gripped her hip tighter, pulling her back against his front.
“Don’t make a scene, baby. I’d hate for you to ruin your friend’s gathering. All this art on display, including some of your own pieces.”
He used his palm to move along her belly and began to walk her toward an empty area of the gallery. She was afraid to be alone with him. Scared of his temper and commanding tone and the way he expected total cooperation and respect. She remembered how brutally he’d attacked her, taken from her body in a show of dominance and possession. If he got her out of here, he would rape her again. Conan truly didn’t understand or accept her breaking things off with him. The man was a conceited psychopath.
He was wealthy and had connections she didn’t want to know anything about, but she did. She had been twenty-one years old, mesmerized by the older, wealthy entrepreneur who got respect and even fear wherever he went. Women drooled over him, which initially she’d found appealing and had even felt good about herself when he chose her, above all others. Her na?veté nearly got her killed or, at minimum, bound to a man who was more like a monster than human. His father was no different. A business tycoon, cold, distant, and evil but he had liked her. Hell, she even got the feeling the man wanted to bed her, too. How had she gotten into such a mess? Why did she come here and take the chance? Why?
Instead of resisting and causing a scene, she complied as he brought her out of the crowd to an empty area of the gallery. He was six feet three, filled with muscles and arrogance, a man obsessed with being physically fit and maintaining a number one status with money, power, and the manipulation tactics he had used on her in the past. What did he want with her? Obviously not a commitment, or at least one that went both ways.
“What do you want, Conan?” she asked the moment they were in the side hallway and away from prying eyes and gossiping Manhattanites.
Venetia had learned fast about disloyalty and dishonest friends. Conducting business in New York required thick skin and a resilient attitude. She was only here this evening for Kylie. Now, living in a nice town in South Carolina, she would fly out to any special jobs she had or commute to others. She wasn’t as well sought after as she could have been because of Conan and her need to stay clear of his grasp. She picked and chose her gigs with precision and care. So she’d thought.
She had been forced to establish a trademark that kept who she was anonymous because of Conan. The year had gone by without him finding her. She’d screwed up because she needed money to take care of herself, and the only thing she was good at was photography. She loved it.
The other reason she’d come here tonight was to show support for her good friend Kylie. The only other person who knew she would be here was Donella. She arranged the job for tomorrow. Apparently Venetia had been scammed.
In a flash, Conan turned her around and had her up against the wall.
She reacted and raised her hands up, only for him to grip them with one hand and hold them in front of her as he pressed harder. Her senses were in overload with that scent of his cologne, which haunted her dreams every night, along with his fierce, dark expressions, abusive strength, and ability to weaken her resolve to fight back and deny him what he wanted. He was that powerful, and she feared him. A year away hadn’t changed much of anything. Obviously Conan knew she was afraid. He used his other hand to grip her shoulder as he stared down into her eyes. She was five feet seven, but with a man as big and tall as Conan, she felt like a shrimp.
“Let go of me, Conan. You have no right to even touch me.”
“Oh, I have a right to touch you whenever I want.”
“No, you don’t,” she stated firmly.
Goddamn. Those gray eyes of his that looked like the eyes of a killer, a criminal, a liar, and thief stared right back at her. Rat eyes, her cousin Cena had described them as. She’d known from the start that he was no good, but Venetia couldn’t see it. Not while he showered her with adoration and gifts and pampered her.
He squinted at her, and she could see his temper was beginning to flare. Well, tough shit. He might be able to physically hurt her, but emotionally she was done with him. She had to be strong.
“I will always have a right to touch you.” He slowly pressed his hand from her shoulder down her hip to her crotch, where he held both hands with one of his. His fingers grazed over her mound, and he applied pressure while holding her wrists together.
“I own this, remember?”
She felt sick and angry at his words, at the demeaning way he touched her mound and claimed ownership as though she was a possession. Why had she ever fallen for his charms and his lies? Then she remembered what he had done to her. What had drawn the final straw and made her face reality and what life would be like with a man like Conan.