Page 26 of Bloodlust

Who are you?

The feedback from a microphone breaks our link, and I snap my head toward the podium, the director of the foundation hobbling on stage.

"I hope he doesn't talk long," Malik whispers, glancing at the wait staff. "I am hungry. When is dinner?"

"Shh." I squeeze Malik's thigh, keeping my head forward. "Don't talk. It's rude."

He scoffs. "It's rude to keep guests hungry."

I turn my head, casting him a forced but sultry smile. "I'll make sure you're nice and fed by the end of the night."

"Really?" His eyebrow perks up. "You will ensure that I am satisfied?"

"You're my guest," I whisper, removing my hand from his leg. "Your satisfaction is my top priority."

"God, I have missed America." Malik chuckles under his breath. "And its women."

"Shh," I hush again, focusing back on the stage.

This time, he listens. It's hilarious. Men like to believe that they're stronger than women. But look at him behaving like a faithful little dog waiting for his treat.

Predictable.

And as always…boring.

As the director talks about the importance of ocean preservation, I find myself stealing glances in the directionof table eleven. A tinge of disappointment pinches me when I see him intently listening to the man on stage. I jerk my head back. Whatever. Doesn't matter.

Malik claps his meaty hands like a child once the speeches are over and the wait staff slowly start pouring out of the backroom, trays of food in hand.

"At last!" he growls, slapping the shoulder of an older man to his right. "We eat!" When the colorful plate is placed in front of him, his nose scrunches up. "Where is the meat?"

"No meat," I say, lifting my fork. "It's a vegetarian menu."

"Absurd," he mutters, turning to the old man again. "We are men! Men need meat."

I sigh, ignoring the uproar of conversation building at our table as I quietly enjoy the melody of fresh seasonal vegetables. Occasionally, I nod and smile as Malik commands the attention of all the strangers sitting around us.

So obnoxious.

So fucking loud.

"I'm going to get some fresh air." I stand up and grab my clutch. "I'll be back."

"Be fast." Malik nods without looking at me, far too entrenched in the conversation he's dominating. "That's what I was saying! Let me tell you?—"

"Fuck me," I whisper to myself as I weave through the tables, my mind no longer as numb as I'd prefer. Should've brought some with me. Idiot.

I step through the glass doors onto the open brick balcony. The dramatic panoramic New York cityscapesoothes my ticking annoyance as I fish a cigarette out of my clutch and light it.

Turning around, I close my eyes and lean against the railing. Finally some quiet. Maybe I'll gag him later. That way he can't talk. Hmm. Maybe a little too much for a first encounter.

"Bored already?"

Ice.

Again.

But it's hot somehow.