Page 161 of The Grand Duel

When I get to the top of the steps, I cast my eyes that way, towards the bar, and through a sea of people, her eyes instantly find me.

She freezes, body going rigid, and then she centres herself, much like she centred me in the office earlier, and carries on with the drink she’s pouring.

I look around the club, a place I frequented weekly for years and yet seemed to care less for the minute I met her.

I make my way to the bar, slipping up onto one of the padded stools and waiting. I watch her work, declining service from the other servers until she’s free.

It’s with reluctance that she walks over to where I’m sat at the bar. “Charles?” she says in a way of asking for my order.

“We won the case,” I tell her.

Her eyes lift, and then she nods. “Good. I’m glad.”

My knee bounces as I watch her, not being able to read her mood but presuming she’s still upset with me. “I’ll get a whiskey.”

She pops her brows, turning and making my order.

When she places it down in front of me, the whiskey sloshes over the side. “Your one?” she asks, her tone flat.

“No, Lissie, it’s not.”

“Then why are you here?” she asks taking my token with a look of disdain on her face.

I pick up my drink and neck it back, getting the feeling I’ll need it.

She watches me before leaning across the bar, close enough no one else can hear. “You know, you paid to keep me out of the rooms, and I haven’t been back in, but what a load of bullshit that was.”

“You’re angry?—”

“Why would you come here whilst I’m working?” she snaps. “You told me last night that you’d use the club again one day, and thenext dayyou show up here.”

“I didn’t come here to use the rooms?—”

“You couldn’t stop me,” she says as if not even hearing me, leaning back, a challenge in her stare.

“What do you mean I couldn’t stop you?”

“IfI wanted to use the rooms, you couldn’t stop me.”

“I’m pretty sure I could. Bronwyn?—”

“I couldn’t give a shit what Bronwyn thinks. I couldn’t at this moment in time give a shit whatyouor anyone else thinks.”

My eyes search her face as I frown, my gut tied up in knots as she backs away, walking towards the blond guy at the end of the bar.

I keep my eyes on them, her words wrapping tighter and tighter around my throat the longer I sit here. When she walks out through the bar and into the room, passing me, I stand. “Lissie.”

My arm is grabbed, and I turn on him. The blond prick stands at my side, his height putting him barely an inch shorter than me.

“Leave her alone,” he warns.

I look at his hand gripped around my bicep and then up at his face. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“You heard me. She isn’t in the right frame of mind for any more of your shit tonight.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “What do you know of my shit?”

“Enough,” he snarls. “Leave. Her. Alone.”