by Aiden Bates
“Duncan. Please.” I motioned to the chair next to me, offering it to him. As he moved toward it to accept, I rose and pulled it out for him. My mother might not have been able to give me much, but at least she’d taught me manners. It was more than I could say for most of the Alphas on Manhattan these days.
“Mm. Duncan, please,” he cooed sensually, laughing as he parroted my words back to me. “Is that what you tell your partners to say when you take them to bed?”
“I don’t tell them to say anything,” I countered, sliding back into my own chair. “But when they do it anyway…”
“How naughty of you, Mr. Rourke.” He paused, obviously enjoying the little hint of annoyance in my eyes. “Duncan, then. What are you drinking?”
“Ice water and lemon,” I said, waving the waiter over for a refill and a drink for Kieran as well.
“How cheap of you,” Kieran was quick to tease. “And here I thought you were some kind of high-roller.”
“Don’t worry. I tip well.” I smiled up at the waiter as he came to the table. “Another water, thanks. And for the gentleman…”
“Seltzer and lime.” Kieran pursed his lips as he turned to me again. “Is that your thing, then? Just the tip?”
“Depends,” I said with a laugh. “Sometimes just the tip is all that fits.”
“Well, la-di-da, Duncan. Rich, handsome, and a massive cock. You’re quite the triple threat, aren’t you?”
I watched the waiter’s ears turn red as he walked away, casting a glance back over his shoulder as the banter at the table continued to heat up.
“Threats have never been my thing, actually. When you’re good enough, you quickly find you don’t have to make them.” I leaned back in my chair to get a better look at Kieran, then reached out to pluck at the feathers of his angel wings. “These look awful heavy. Are they?”
“Heavy?” He raised an eyebrow. “They can be. It’s hard work being an Angel.”
“Why don’t you take them off?” I suggested.
He sucked his lower lip beneath his teeth like he was tasting the temptation. “You’re a regular devil, aren’t you, Duncan? I’ve just barely had time to get my halo back on and you’re already trying to rid me of my wings.”
“You can leave the halo.” I eyed the little gold circlet hovering over his head. “It suits you.”
Immediately, he took it off and placed it onto the table.
“What’s that about?” I asked, my eyes narrowing with interest.
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, Duncan, it’s that I don’t like to take orders.” He looked me up and down like he was sizing me up—for what, I could only wonder. “Especially not from privileged rich men in overpriced suits.”
I laughed, curling my fingers beneath my lapels to straighten them. “Don’t be so quick to judge. There’s no such thing as overpaying a good tailor.”
“What about overpaying a dancer?” He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of his chair. “Feeling like dropping another two grand in the champagne room tonight?”
“The dancer’s worth it.” I grinned wolfishly. “But I hate overpaying for champagne. My dinner offer is still on the table, you know.”
Before Kieran could shoot something clever back at me, the waiter returned with our drinks.
“To keeping our wits about us,” he toasted, raising his glass.
I clinked it with mine and took a sip, letting the cool water wash down my throat. “Do you think you need to keep your wits about you when I’m around, Kieran?”
“A stiff drink wouldn’t exactly render me dumb just because you’re around, Duncan.” He winked at me, showing off the thickness of his auburn eyelashes. “My father just taught me that it’s rude to drink alone.”
“Maybe you’re afraid of falling in love with me,” I offered with a shrug. “A few drinks in, inhibitions slipping away like sand through your fingertips—and here I am, hot and rich and ready to whisk you away for fettuccine and fine wine…”
He laughed—a loud, genuine thing that seemed to surprise him. Laughter suited him. He tossed his head back as he did it, baring his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long, muscled neck. “Duncan,” he said, still chuckling as he recomposed himself. “Look, you seem like a lot of fun, and I don’t mean to be rude—”
“Your father wouldn’t approve of that,” I agreed.
“—but falling in love isn’t really my style. Especially not with a man like you.”
“There you go again. A man like me.” My tongue flicked out, wetting my lips. “You don’t even know what kind of man I am yet. I thought we established that last night.”
“You’re a lot of trouble is what you are.” He blinked at me handsomely while he took a sip of his own drink. “I don’t need to get to know you to know that much.”
“Mm. Trouble. I think I like that.” I inclined my head to him, choosing to take it as a compliment. “I could be a lot of trouble for you, Kieran—if it’s like you say and falling in love really isn’t your thing.”
He laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I swirled the ice around in my drink again, enjoying the little clinks it made against the glass. “I guess you could say I’m the kind of Alpha that Omegas like you usually fall in love with. I’d hate to cramp your style.”
He snorted, like falling in love with me was the most preposterous thing in the world. “If anyone’s ever fallen in love with you, I’m sure they’ve realized the error of their ways by the time the sun rose the next morning.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I only ever need one night.”
He stared at me for a long while after that, like he was seeing something in me that he recognized. Reassuring himself that I was exactly the type of Alpha he thought I was, maybe—or maybe, realizing that what I was saying applied to him just as much as it applied to me. Falling in love might not have been Kieran’s thing, but with a body like his that could move the way he did, I doubted celibacy was something that took up very much of his time.
“Are you a gambling man, Duncan?” he finally asked me, a dark glimmer lighting up in his eyes.
My smile crept further into the corners of my mouth. “You know I work on Wall Street, Kieran. What do you think?”
“I was thinking we might make this interesting,” he said, running his thumb idly around the rim of his glass. “I was thinking it might feel good to prove you wrong.”
“It’d feel better to prove me right,” I promised—but if he was suggesting what I thought he was, this night was proving even more interesting than I could’ve dreamed. “What kind of terms are we talking here?”
“I don’t think you can make me fall in love with you, Duncan,” he said simply. Clean and crisp and businesslike. “But I think I’d like to see you try.”
“And if I do?”
He laughed. “You won’t.”
I leaned forward, turning my body toward his until our knees touched. “Humor me.”
“I suppose I’ll have to give you what you really want,” he said, shrugging inconsequentially.
“Which is?”
He rolled his eyes, a smile blooming on his lips. “To fuck me, Duncan. I thought that much was obvious.”
To fuck me, Duncan. There was something in the way that he said the words that made the lion in my chest roar with hunger. I was glad it was obvious to him—if it hadn’t been, it would’ve meant I wasn’t doing something right. But that left one little loose end that I’d need to tie up before I was willing to shake on Kieran’s bet.
“And let’s say I fail. I won’t, of course,” I assured him. “But hypothetically speaking.”
“When you fail, you don’t get to fuck me.”
I laughed. “Seems to me that’s a somewhat one-sided bet. What do you lose?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Duncan.” He looked me up and down again and tipped back the rest of his drink, setting it down on the table with a thump next to my glass. “Hasn’t it
crossed your mind that I might want to fuck you, too?”
And there the lion was, jaws stretching open wide as it let out the triumphant roar of a lifetime. I found myself staring at up at him as he rose, a half-dumb smile plastered across my lips.
He wanted me, too.
What an absolute bastard.
I struck my hand out to him, rising as well. I was only a few inches taller than him, I realized. A good omen—I hated kissing down.
“You’re on,” I told him.
He shook my hand firmly, mischief dancing in his eyes. They were the color of seafoam, that frothy blue-green salted with little flecks of white.
“I’m always on,” he assured me. “Let me finish my shift—then, let the games begin.”
5
Kieran
I shoved my hands deep in my pockets as I came out the door, not so much because of the cold, but because I was suddenly all too aware of myself and didn’t know what else to do with them.
Duncan fucking Rourke. He was a scoundrel if I’d ever seen one—and I knew what they looked like, since I saw one staring back at me in the mirror nearly every morning. He was entitled and arrogant, sure—but there was that tinge of roughness around his edges that told me he probably wasn’t lying about not getting by on Daddy’s bank account. If he was as self-made as he’d suggested he was, maybe all that arrogance was somewhat earned.
It didn’t stop him from being an insufferable prick, but it made him interesting to me. More interesting than I wanted to admit.
And clever—he was more clever than I would’ve given him credit for at first glance. I wasn’t used to Alphas being able to match me when it came to battles of the wits—which was why it was such a shame that he’d made such a stupid bet with me.
As interested in him as I was, I’d have the upper hand in our arrangement the whole way through. Not falling in love with Duncan Rourke would be as easy as not falling into an uncovered manhole on the city sidewalk. I knew how to read warning signs. I’d been side-stepping them for years. Love was a silly fairy tale that people told themselves so they could stay together until the kids graduated high school. My own parents had taught me that while they’d spent the last ten years waffling back and forth on whether or not to get divorced. People like Ben who couldn’t seem to stop sleeping around even when they weren’t trying to reassured me of it nearly every day.
I scanned the parking lot, eyes searching for Duncan’s broad shoulders and tailored jacket. For a moment, I thought maybe he’d gotten cold feet. Maybe redirected his sights to some other Omega for the evening—one who would put out without playing any games. It would’ve been the clever thing to do, after all. If one night was all he was looking for, he had enough looks and charm to get it from someone who wouldn’t require so much effort.
But then, I saw headlights flick on in the parking lot and heard the soft roar of a Rolls-Royce purr to life. He brought the car around, showing off how smooth it drove even over the Ballroom’s pock-marked parking lot.
“Need a ride?” he asked, smirking as he rolled his window down.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know how silly it is to drive in New York, don’t you? We’ll hit traffic before you get any further than a block.”
He shrugged. “I’ve got my ways. Hop in—I put the seat warmers on for you.”
“As if my ass wasn’t already hot enough as-is.” I rolled my eyes as I went around to the passenger seat.
The restaurant Duncan had chosen for us wasn’t far away. With anyone else, it would’ve been just as fast to catch the subway—or even just walk. But true to his word, Duncan seemed to know his way around the city better than I expected. He pulled through slender alleyways with confidence, one hand on the wheel and the other resting dangerously close to my thigh.
“Impressed?” he asked me, parallel parking in what should’ve been an impossibly tight fit with such ease, it felt like magic.
I laughed. “If I was the kind of Omega who was impressed by fast cars and slick driving, I might be.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m not. Keep trying though, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll surprise me.”
Before I could get myself unbuckled and reach for my door, Duncan had already come around to open it for me.
“Careful on the curb,” he warned me, offering his hand.
His palm was broad, a hard callus running just below his fingers. I eyed it with suspicion—when was the last time I’d met a Wall Street Alpha with callused hands?—before ignoring it and getting out of the car, no help required.
As soon as my foot came down on the curb, I knew I’d made a mistake. A crack that I hadn’t seen rocked backward under my weight, forcing me off balance immediately.
But of course, there was Duncan, immediately wrapping an arm behind my back and pulling me upright before I cracked my skull on the hood of his overpriced car.
“Careful on the curb,” he repeated, his lips suddenly all too close to mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my lips before it was cut by the chill of the wind, the slightest hint of citrus kissing my nose before he helped me onto more stable ground.
“You’re good at this,” I admitted, gritting my teeth to fight back a blush.
“You have no idea,” he returned with a grin. “Why do you think I parked here?”
And then, I had no choice but to take his arm as he led me inside.
The restaurant was Italian, the cozy kind of place that managed to look high-end while completely capturing the spirit of Tuscany. The maître d' recognized him right away, smiling as soon as we came through the door.
“Your usual table, Mr. Rourke?”
He nodded, and I found myself whisked away to a private corner that seemed to be reserved especially for him. Hell—maybe he had reserved it. The flush on my cheeks started fighting its way back up again.
Either Duncan perpetually had a special table reserved at this place, or he’d been counting on me accepting his invitation this time.
Arrogant all the way to the bone.
“Do you have a menu?” I asked the waiter after Duncan had continued to play the perfect gentleman, pulling out my seat for me then sliding it back in as I lowered myself into it.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Duncan assured me, waving the waiter away. “They know what I like.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what about what I like?”
He laughed. “If this isn’t the best meal you’ve had in the last year, I’ll tip the waiter four-hundred percent.”
I leaned back in my chair. “That doesn’t seem like a good bargain. Rewarding the staff here for subpar service?”
“The service here is impeccable,” he countered, “But I see your point. Hmm…I’ll give you an embarrassing story about me, then. If you really don’t like the food they bring you, something completely humiliating about me should be adequate compensation.”
A little grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as I admired my odds. “I think I can appreciate that.”
“Good—because here comes the wine.”
The waiter didn’t even need to let Duncan try it—it was obviously his favorite, and to my dismay, I discovered I liked it more than I wanted to. A rich, full-bodied red. Just sweet enough that it played nice on my tongue, but with enough tannins in it that it wasn’t cloying.
Fuck. He was good.
“Thought we might want to hammer out some terms,” Duncan said casually, watching me with intensity as I licked a lingering drop away from my lips.
“Terms? I thought we’d already figured that out.” I placed my glass back down on the table, meeting his gaze as the wine’s aftertaste continue to bloom on my tongue. “You fail to woo me in the way you expect to, I get the satisfaction of seeing you go home with your tail between your legs.”
“See?” he chuckled. “One sip of wine, and you’re already thinking about what’s between my legs.”
I glowered, which he seemed to enjoy. “Okay, t
hen. What kind of terms were you thinking?”
“A time frame seems appropriate. If you’re so sure I’m going to fail, I ought to have a deadline so I know when to give up.”
“How about a month?” I suggested.
He laughed. “A month? That’s an eternity in Rourke-time.”
“Cute that you’ve renamed time after yourself,” I scoffed. “I’m feeling generous is all.”
“Very generous.” The candle on the table flickered, its light catching in the chestnut of his irises like a forest fire. “Or maybe you’re just trying to get as much time with me as possible.”
“Or maybe, I’m trying to even the playing field for you a little. It’s not much of a bet if you’re doomed to fail from the start.”
“I’ll take those odds. A month, then.” He thanked the waiter as two bowls of elegantly garnished spaghetti were placed in front of us. “And I can be as seductive as I like. No holds barred.”
“Hold on,” I warned him, holding up a finger. “This isn’t a game of seduction. You’re supposed to be romancing me, aren’t you?”
“Seduction isn’t just about sex, Kieran.” He shook his napkin out and placed it on his lap.
“Then what is it about, Duncan? Enlighten me.” I mirrored his movements, once again eerily aware of myself.
We weren’t in one of those ostensibly fancy places with more cutlery than any sane person knew what to do with, but there was something about the ambiance—the candlelight, the weight of the cloth napkin beneath my fingers. The way he was looking at me, like he was daring me to make a wrong move. It all had me feeling out of place, which was probably appropriate. I did well enough at the club, but I wasn’t about to go blowing my paychecks on bottles of wine that cost more than my monthly rent anytime soon.
“It’s about connection, isn’t it?” he said, picking up his fork and stroking his thumb down its silver handle.
“You tell me.”
“Well, I see it like this. Sex, love, all of it—it’s nothing if you don’t have a connection with the person. That’s why you’re here, sitting at this table across from me, instead of blowing some hotshot jerk-off in his penthouse and sneaking out the door as soon as he falls asleep right after he comes.”