Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)
Cassie Cross
CHAPTER ONE
“You look so hot in that dress. I just want to put my mouth all over you.”
The voice comes from behind me, and is too close to my ear for its owner to be talking to anyone but me. I steady myself for the reveal, because I know that when I turn around to let this guy off easy, I’m going to be looking into the face of a disgusting, smarmy barfly who thinks that’s the kind of compliment that’s going to get me to go home with him.
No “Hello, nice to meet you.” No “Let me buy you a drink.” He just goes straight for the kill, which I suppose is a blessing. At least I know what he wants from me right away.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat in the middle of the not-so-crowded hotel bar, and turn to face the man who just spoke to me. He reeks of booze, even though happy hour is still in its infancy. He’s disheveled and greasy, and he’s looking at me like I’m some kind of dessert. My gaze drifts over his shoulder, looking around to see if I notice anyone suspicious. He could be some kind of a decoy to distract me, for all I know.
I don’t get any bad vibes from anyone in the room, apart from this guy, and there’s no way I’m giving him the time of day. That’s bad news for him, because I’m probably the most desperate woman he’ll find in this bar tonight. Hell, I might just be the most desperate woman in the city. I’m on the run from a dangerous man who probably wants me dead. I’m low on cash, and scared I’ll run out before I figure a way out of the mess I’ve managed to get myself into, and I don’t know where I’ll be staying after tomorrow night.
Despite all that, even I’m not desperate enough to go home with this guy, even if it will buy me a few hours of oblivion and a little bit of safety.
With the toe of my shoe, I shift my bag beneath my barstool, making sure it’s still there. I’ve got one of its straps wrapped around my ankle, so I’ll know if anyone tries to take it. I’m hyper-vigilant about theft of my belongings anyway, but everything I managed to pack before I hastily left my apartment in Chicago is in this bag.
It’s all I’ve got for now, so I’ve got to keep a close eye on it. If I lose it, I might as well turn myself over to the man who is looking for me. His name is Andre Privya, and it’s not a question of if he’ll find me, it’s when. I’m just hoping that I’ll be able to come up with a way to get myself out of his crosshairs before that inevitable moment comes.
“Did you hear what I said?” Douchebag asks.
I left Chicago three days ago under the cloak of night, and I’ve been here in Manhattan ever since. In that time, I think my fight-or-flight response has served me well. This guy doesn’t exactly scream “hitman” to me, but I know I should steer clear of him if only because he seems like a gross, terrible person.
“I did,” I reply, stirring my drink. I’ve got to keep a close eye on that, and make sure he doesn’t slip me something. He seems like the type who would. “I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”
Douchebag looks annoyed, like I expected he would, but he isn’t willing to back down just yet. “Let me buy you a drink and see if I can change your mind.”
I look him right in the eyes and say, “No.”
He’s got this smirk on his stupid, smarmy face, and I know he thinks that I’m playing hard to get. He thinks this is game, and he’s sure he’s going to win. “Bartender,” he says, raising his hand.
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want a drink.”
“C’mon, just-”
“She said no.” A hand claps down hard on Douchebag’s shoulder, right before he is whirled around to face what has to be one of the handsomest men I’ve ever seen in my life. Handsome and full of righteous anger, which I’m finding incredibly attractive, I’m not ashamed to admit. “Do you understand what ‘no’ means?”
Douchebag nods shakily. “Y-yes.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
Just like that, Douchebag hightails it out of the bar, and into the hotel’s lobby.
“Is everything okay?” This gorgeous man is looking at me with such concern in his soulful green eyes, and I can’t seem to find my voice.
All I can do is nod slowly, taking in the view before me. He is really, incredibly tall. And from the looks of it, he’s broad and muscular, but unfortunately his well-tailored suit is hiding a lot of the aforementioned muscles, just giving me the slightest hint of what is waiting below in the way it hugs his body. He has a head full of light brown hair with a few highlights mixed in, like he has just spent some time out in the sun. His eyes are friendly, and way too easy to get lost in.
I shouldn’t be getting lost in anyone’s eyes right now; it could be dangerous. Strangely, though, I don’t feel like I’m in danger with him.
“Yes,” I finally manage to say. “I’m fine. Thank you for that.”
He smiles, and that smile is too easy to get lost in, as well. Why did this stupidly beautiful man have to show up here, now, when I absolutely cannot afford to let myself get swept off of my feet? Why couldn’t I have met someone like him in Chicago? If I hadn’t left town, if I hadn’t done such an idiotic, dangerous thing…