The most boring Martini Glass ever, but this digital image suing craze has made me extra paranoid
If you’ve never had a dirty martini and like salt and olives I highly suggest you try one…I should know I had 3 big giant ones at Mastro’s in downtown Chicago Saturday night for the husband’s birthday. I paid the price but it was so, so worth it!
A dirty martini is alway happens to be the drink my heroine Juliet Russo is drinking one Friday night when her nemesis and begrudging infatuation, Christos Constantine hunts her down and makes it clear he’s not taking no for an answer.
Here’s an exclusive peak at the scene where he confronts her… hope you enjoy.
I took a sip of my dirty martini, the alcohol stinging the back of my throat. When had I turned into this needy, desperate girl?
“Ms. Russo.” That voice made every muscle go rigid.
Our eyes met in the mirror. It felt as if I conjured him out of thin air.
The devil himself couldn’t be more temptation. Tonight he looked irresistible and utterly wicked in all black.
Fingers trembling, I carefully put my glass on the polished mahogany wood. “What are you doing here?” My tone couldn’t have been more bratty.
In the mirror, I watched his lips quirk as though trying to contain the smile hidden there. My eyes widened as he leaned so close I could feel his heat against my back. He placed one hand on the bar, effectively surrounding me, and dropped his lips to the shell of my ear. “I’m here for you.”
Every nerve sizzled and snapped to attention. I squared my shoulders and tried to look bored. One more glance in the mirror told me it wasn’t working. Even from a distance I could see the excited glassiness in my brown eyes.
He shifted away and slid into Katherine’s vacated seat. A pretty twenty-something bartender practically ran over. I picked up my martini glass and took a sip. She looked Christos up and down and gave him one of those hooded sex glances girls seem to think are sexy. “Hey, what can I do for you?” She purred the words, the underlying meaning painfully clear. Anything you want.
I rolled my eyes. This is exactly why he would be impossible to be around. I frowned. Wait, was I harboring some sort of fantasy? I pushed the idea right out of my mind.
“I’ll have what she’s having.” He pointed to my drink.
The bartender gave him a blinding come-fuck-me smile, tossed her mane of blonde hair and scurried away to do his bidding.
Irritation pricked at my skin, but I assured myself it wasn’t jealously. Only annoyance because girls that age assumed a woman of mine wasn’t a viable threat. I looked at Christos, expecting to see his gaze trained on her tight ass, and found him watching me with an intent expression. The look made me want to squirm, irrationally sure he read my every thought.
I raised a brow. “Taking to stalking, I see.”
He laughed. The low rumble rolled over me, making me ache in places I didn’t want to name. “Don’t pretend you’re not happy to see me.”
I sighed. “Does your ego know no bounds?”
“Why are you so determined to dislike me?” He slid his hand over the bar rail, twisting on the stool to face me, shifting so one foot rested on my chair.
“Do you really want to hear my long, endless list?”
The bartender chose that moment to return, but he didn’t even glance at her. “Start a tab,” he said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t open to conversation.
I, however, watched her lower lip puff out and give me a what-makes-you-so-special once-over before she took her leave. I frowned. It was a good question actually. One I’d asked myself countless times. Why me?
His finger brushed over the bare skin of my forearm. I jerked as if I’d been scorched. “What are you thinking about, Juliet?”
I met his gaze and saw none of his customary arrogance. Instead, he appeared thoughtful, curious. It softened the harsh lines of his strong face and made him look almost human.
“Why me?” The question popped from my lips before I could stop it and I clenched my teeth to keep from cringing.
“Why not you?”
I shrugged. His hand shot to my knees, so fast I about jumped out of my seat. He swiveled my stool until I faced him then shifted his legs so his thighs bracketed my own.
The solid warmth of him made me melt. Liquid heat slid over my skin and I felt wetness line my panties. God, I was pathetic.
“Why not you?” He repeated. One hand retreated to the safety of the bar while his other lightly stroked the fabric of my skirt.
I pushed him away, but he grasped my wrist and held me still. I cocked my head to the side. “It’s the challenge, isn’t it? I’m sure it gets boring with all those women panting to do your bidding. But I’m not some little fuck toy. I’m not going to give in just so you can toss me out with the trash when the fun is over and you get bored.”
“I see.” His free hand picked up the drink and took a sip. His tongue flicked over his lips. “Dirty martini. It suits you.”
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