Page 22 of Serenity

Covered in an eye mask, I couldn’t see her. Couldn’t place my finger on it, but she was familiar. Someone I’d known or been acquainted. Maybe someone I’d recently dated. Then the mask fell. The elastic broke, and I saw her. Back and forth, my gaze roamed from the woman I was inside of to the woman in the crowd. I saw her. Deafeningly loud, guilt and disgust prevailed. I’d been assailed because I saw her. A silent reproach, it was as if she expected better from me.

Fiery.

It was in her gaze. Her parted lips. Her bated breath. I couldn’t take the heat. The desire. The need. The frenzy. The envy. It grew, attempting to stifle every soul in the room. Dismissal was the only option. And yet it blitzed my chest in her absence. She didn’t belong there. I couldn’t allow it. Not once recognition hit me like a ton of fucking bricks. She didn’t belong in a place like Genevieve.

She reminded me I didn’t belong in a place like Genevieve.

What the fuck was she doing there?

What the fuck was she doing here?

Trapped, I was in a loop of possibilities and what-ifs should I decide to pursue her. A host of freaky shit. Mayhem. Chaos. Bliss. Those thoughts were red flags surrounded by her. A big ass green flag. Interrupting her excellence wasn’t listed on my catalog of desires. From afar, I’d admire her and do my best not to disturb again.

Without a paddle, it seemed she was from the moment I left her side at Sin. Several men approached in my absence, prepared to tap-dance at her will with a grin. She gifted them undeserved kindness, but no one dared join her as I had.

Go home, Busy Bee.

Silently, I made the request.

Assertive but submissive. Sensual but tame. A woman with her own bag. One hundred miles an hour, she jetted, carrying a load of stress. Armed with such knowledge, I wanted to establish my presence in her life despite myself. A woman who wouldn’t use me. A woman I could take care of. A woman who would care for me. A woman I could introduce ease to. A busy bee but a queen bee all wrapped in one…

I wanted her.

Distance would prove an impossible fucking task. Already, she’d made a mess of my head.

I wanted her.

To the point of distraction, she’d consumed my thoughts since leaving the VIP section across the room.

I wanted her.

Not for a casual night of sex. Without question, our fire would be intense and immense, but there was more there. There was softness and safety. There was a home for vulnerability. There was a space for intimacy.

Eternally and perpetually, I wanted her.

“D3?”

Hunter’s gaze followed mine. Locating the object of my attention, he smirked while dragging me from my musings.

“You plan to add your hot take or ogle Pre’s sister all night?”

“Fuck you. What’s the math on this management restructuring project you all are pursuing?”

We’d been discussing a change in ownership of Genevieve since I left Serenity. The business was established by myself, Prime Hermès, Hunter, and Logic. We were all silent owners. Logic was giving up his stake, as was Prime, though his brother was a proxy in his absence.

A round of chuckles cycled through our section. Finalizing their teasing at my expense, we got down to business. Forty-five minutes passed without us agreeing on anything. The meeting had been a waste of fucking time. The time would have been better wasted on Busy Bee. Throughout our discussion, my eyes continued to wander to the crown jewel of the Miller Family.

Three times, she yawned, stretching her lips wide. In the most sensuous way, her mouth opened. Each time, it excited me as if inviting me and leaving me eager to feel inside. My pornographic thoughts ceased upon realizing I wasn’t the only one with eyes on her. Serenity was a spectacle. The main attraction at the club. Viridescence raced through my veins at the thought of another man conjuring a similar fantasy.

Go home, Bee.

Thirty minutes into my negotiations, she rose from her seat, stretched, yawned, and further prolonged her departure. Thoroughly pleased by what I’d observed, I watched as she grabbed her purse and left.

The clap to my shoulder lugged me out of yet another cyclone of thoughts.

Pierre leaned forward, making his words discreet. “You may as well clear it with Ramsay, OG. Otherwise, you’re doomed.”

Doomed.