When You Least Expect it, 18 mins 35 sec, Chapter 3, pgs 28-34

Stella is trying to seduce a man with an expensive watch in order to benefit her family. She feels uncomfortable and unsure, but is determined to succeed. However, before she can make her move, another man approaches and pretends to be her boyfriend. Stella is confused and angry, but finds herself attracted to the stranger. She notices his physical features and is intrigued by him, despite thinking he might be crazy. The stranger claims to have done Stella a favor, but she is skeptical and confronts him. III Stella For the life of me, I didn't have the first clue how to seduce a man. I was probably the furthest thing from a seductress that existed in the history of ever. When I stepped out of the bathroom and spotted the dude with the watch that cost more than a freaking car, I knew I needed to zero in on him. Trying my best to channel serenity, I smiled in his direction, hoping it looked coy and playful, like my sister had attempted to teach me, and not, as she so lovingly put it, constipated and crampy like you're on the first day of your period. I didn't have a freaking clue how to do this, but this was an opportunity I couldn't let pass me by. It wasn't every day I saw a man with a $60,000 watch on his wrist. Hell, it wasn't even every year, and when I spotted it, it was like a golden stream of sunlight shined down on the guy, and angels began harmonizing. This was it. He was the one. Well, not the one the one, if you know what I mean, but I needed that freaking watch, and I was determined to get it. This could be a major win for my family. He looked up at me, heat infusing his gaze as he did a scan of my body from top to toe before licking his lips. I fluttered my eyelashes, hoping it looked sexy instead of how it felt, like I had an eyelash stuck in there I was trying to work out by blinking a million times a second, and headed back toward my stool, keeping track of Mr. Patek Philippe on the periphery all the while before resuming my seat. I still felt that uncomfortable itching between my shoulder blades, that sense of being watched, but I figured it was just because Fancy Watchbro had spotted me, too. I let out a sigh of relief when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. He rose from the spiff-looking leather sofa he'd been sitting on, picking up a glass of amber liquid from the glass-topped table in front of him, and started in my direction. The trap had snapped shut with my prey inside, so, following the rule Serenity had hammered into my head in preparation for tonight, I turned my focus completely away from my new mark as he moved through the bar in my direction and smiled to the bartender. I lifted the cocktail she'd just placed on the bar in front of me and cheers. Thanks, babe. Not a problem, she said with a wink. First one's on the house, you know, for not being a dick. I let out a laugh before bringing the glass to my lips and taking a drink. It was the perfect vodka-soda, with just the right amount of lime. I had barely finished that first sip when I felt him approach on my left. Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling in triumph, I twisted my neck to see Mr. Patek Philippe standing only an inch or two outside the border of my personal space. He wasn't the type of man I'd usually go for. In fact, he was so far from my type, or more to the point, most women's type, that I had to stifle my gut reaction to curl my upper lip in distaste. I mean, the dude was wearing a freaking pinky ring, for Christ's sake. With the shiny, slicked-back hair and the three-piece suit in an unflattering shade of maroon, it looked like he was trying to pull off the whole mafia big-shot thing. But he didn't quite pull it off. Instead, he came off more like a Jersey Shore reject. I'd have rather taken a cheese grater to my skin than give this guy the illusion of actually having a chance with me, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And desperate was pretty much all the Ryans were at this point. Hi, I said softly, attempting the sultry purr Serenity had tried to teach me. He gave me an oily, used-car-salesman smile as his gaze dropped down my cleavage. For the watch, I chanted inside my head, the watch is worth it. Hey, gorgeous, what's a sexy thing like you doing here all alone? Oh, blech, I didn't know how Serenity did it. If I were her, I would buy stock umbrella pads, I'd use them so often. Doing my best to hide my discomfort, I shifted on my stool to face him better, giving the watch a cursory look, just to make sure it wasn't a fake. Another one of my skills was being able to spot a fake without really trying. A smile wreathed my face as I leaned closer, ready to get this show on the road. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could get home and snuggle on my couch, watching raptly as Henry Cavill sauntered around on my television screen in leather pants that did amazing things for his ass. However, before I could get a seductive word out, I felt a presence on my right a moment before a hand landed on the small of my back, then slid around my waist. I whipped around so fast it was a wonder I didn't fall out of my seat. What in the hell? Hey, baby, sorry I'm late. I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on when he leaned in and skimmed his lips against my cheek in a move that reeked of a familiarity he absolutely didn't have any right to. Just as I was preparing to ball my fist and punch this dude right in the dick, his breath brushed against my ear as he whispered so low I had to strain to hear despite his proximity. Just go with it, I'll explain in a second. He pulled back, and all I could do was stare at him in frozen bewilderment as he tugged me against his side, held tight, looked up at Mobster Wannabe, and grinned. Who's this, sweetheart? Uh, it was the only sound my mouth could make just then. Sorry, my man. The guy lifted his hands in surrender, the gold band of his watch glinting beneath the soft overhead lights. Didn't realize she was taken. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. The dude lumbered off the stool and took a backward step, all the while I eyed that freaking watch longingly like it was the last piece of cake and I was supposed to be starting a lifelong sugar-free diet the next day. Oh no, that's not—I attempted, but the intrusive stranger cut me off. No need to apologize, mistakes happen. His arm shifted up to circle my shoulders and he gave me a jostle. Not like I can blame you, he said on a laugh. My woman's a true beauty. Um, what the what? The man, and my father's savior that was currently attached to his wrist, moved across the bar, scoping out the room for another woman to entertain himself. Once he was gone, I jerked back around to the guy I was pretty sure was clinically insane, my eyes spitting fire and my tongue moments away from doing the very same thing as I knocked his arm off of me. What the hell? I snapped, losing my cool completely as I hopped off the stool and grabbed my purse. Look, I don't know who you are, but obviously you need some serious professional help. Just sit down and I'll explain everything. I'll even pay for your next drink. Was this guy kidding? I mean, sure, he was good-looking. Well, actually, now that I was really looking at him, searching for any visible signs that he was in the midst of a mental crisis, I could see that he wasn't just good-looking. The man was downright fine. Saying he was tall and fit would have been an insult to him. He couldn't be lumped in with all the other tall, fit men in existence. He clearly stood on his own. Even sitting comfortably on a bar stool, hunched over enough to rest his forearms and elbows on the aged, scarred wood of the bar top, the guy sat a full head higher than me. His sandy blonde hair was disheveled in that way only men could get away with. That wild, careless mop that looked like it had seen more fingers than brush bristles, but still managed to be sexy in an unfathomable way. He had unfairly high and sharp cheekbones, a strong, masculine jaw, and his nose had the slightest bump on the bridge that prevented it from being straight as an arrow, and as weird as it might have sounded, it actually added to his appeal. Without that bump, he might have been too perfect. Enviably long, dark lashes rimmed a set of mesmerizing eyes. They weren't just brown, they were flecked with gold and fire as well. They were the color of sherry, and inexplicably, I suddenly found myself craving a drink. I'd never tasted sherry before, didn't have the first clue whether I'd like it or not, but there you had it. The muscles that coiled around his arms from his wrists all the way to his shoulders bulged beneath the long sleeves of his olive drab henley, while the ones on his back danced beneath the faded fabric. Tree trunks masquerading as thighs filled the denim wrapped around them, leading down to a pair of scuffed, well-worn motorcycle boots. The man was an Adonis. It was a shame he was certifiable. A single corner of his mouth hiked up in a smirk that downright smoldered. Say the word when you're done checking me out, then I'll explain the deal, but I'm happy to sit here quietly until you've looked your fill. Is there someone I should call for you, like your doctor at the mental facility you've obviously escaped from? You have a strange way of saying thank you, Grift. My eyes bugged out so wide it was a miracle it didn't fall right out of my skull. Thank you? I chose to focus on that issue and ignore the nickname he'd given me, one problem at a time. What in the living hell should I be thanking you for? I don't recall asking for you to come over here and interrupt the perfectly pleasant conversation I was having with someone else while copping a feel without permission. You're lucky I don't have a taser on me, or I'd have given you a shock so bad you'd never be able to have kids, buddy. Note to self, buy a freaking taser. The humor suddenly disappeared from the man's expression, and when he leaned in closer to me, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on ends. This wasn't a flirtatious lean. This was a lean that said he was about to drop a serious hammer. I just did you a huge favor, Grift. Stop calling me that, I hissed between clenched jaws. He arched a quizzical brow. It's what you are, isn't it? That question stopped me in my tracks. Ice filled my veins and chest, so cold it nearly stopped my heart from beating and my lungs from drawing breath. All I could do was sit there, mute, as he continued. So you boozed that prick's wallet, he revealed, quietly, only loud enough for me to hear. I have to admit, you got some serious skills. Oh god, he saw me. I couldn't breathe. He kept going. You're good. Probably one of the best I've ever seen. And if it makes you feel any better, there isn't another person here who has a clue. I was going to be sick. Are... are you a cop? Not a cop. Well, that was a relief. Except... then how, like I said, there probably aren't many people better than you. I just happen to be one of them. To prove his point, he slid my wallet across the bar. He'd managed to get into my purse and snatch my wallet without me even knowing. That's why I knew the moment you spotted the watch on that guy's wrist. And it's also when I knew I had to step in, because you were about to make a huge mistake. My throat suddenly felt like it was packed with sawdust. What... what do you mean? That guy you nearly robbed? Let's just say he'd have no problem coming after you to get back what you took, and he'd make the process more painful than you could probably imagine. I highly doubted that. Thanks to those guys my dad had swindled, I had a pretty good idea how criminals reacted to being taken for suckers. But that didn't mean this stranger's words didn't cause my skin to prickle with goosebumps. If what he was saying was really true, thanks to him I dodged a serious bullet. The last thing my family and I needed was two sets of bad guys coming after us. One was terrible enough. My curiosity now well and truly piqued. I leaned in closer to the handsome and probably insane guy and whispered, Who was that dude? Alex Markov. Not someone you need to know, trust me. He answered cryptically, before a cunning smirk took over his handsome expression. Says you, I mumbled sullenly over the rim of my cocktail glass, before sucking more of my drink back. Think about it. How's a guy like that afford a watch like the one he was wearing? The answer to that is not in a good way. You're lucky I came along when I did. The shiver of dread I'd felt a moment ago was relieved by his get-out-of-jail-free card. Lucky isn't quite the word I was thinking. I snarked before narrowing my eyes in suspicion. Why did you come along when you did? And how do you know so much about a guy who's supposedly, I added air quotes for effect, such a bad guy? Like I said, I came along to save your ass, and I know about Markov because it's my job to know about him. I thought you said you weren't a cop. Everything he was saying made my head spin. I didn't get a cop vibe off this man, but how he was talking made it seem like he was some sort of law enforcement. At the thought of that, the cash I'd stuffed into my bra began to burn my skin. I'm not, he assured me. I just occasionally work with them. I arched a perplexed brow. Am I supposed to know what that means? He reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. The thick cardstock paper was an attractive slate gray color. The logo on the front was simple, a pair of Greek letters in a bold black font. Weston Scott, Alpha Omega, I read. You can call me West. I ignored him and kept reading. Private Investigation and Security? I looked up at him, no less confused than I was a second ago. So you, like, install security systems or something? One corner of his mouth hooked up, and I wanted to smack myself for thinking he looked damn good when he smirked or smiled. Not exactly. I was officially done with this whole messed up disastrous night. Snatching up my glass, I threw the remaining three-quarters of my drink back into big gulps, instantly regretting it when the vodka burned all the way down my throat and pooled deep in my belly. There was a reason shots were so small. Large quantities of booze were not made to be chugged. Oh, that was a mistake. I wheezed out. Jesus, everything north of my belly button is on fire. I coughed as tears brimmed in my eyes. It's like I just drank a glass of lava. And this was why I could never successfully seduce a man. This was the real me here, a walking, talking dumpster fire. You good? Weston asked. I greedily snatched up the glass of water the woman behind the bar just slid over and sucked on the straw like my life depended on it, drinking down half the glass before the flames in my chest, throat and stomach were fully doused. Yeah, I sputtered and cleared my throat. There really was no coming back from this. My night was officially shot to hell. I'd made a complete ass out of myself. And now I'd burned off the lining of my stomach. It was time to call this whole thing a wash. Standing from my stool, I snatched up the wallet the jackass had taken from my purse and flipped it open. The fact that everything inside was exactly where it was supposed to be surprised the hell out of me. But I was determined not to show it. He'd lifted my wallet to prove a point, not to steal the piddly amount of cash inside. Good to know. Pulling out a few bills, I stuffed them into the bartender's tip jar before jamming it and the business card back into my purse. So this has been swell and all, but I've had all the fun I can handle for one evening. Have a nice life, buddy. And with that, I sauntered out of the bar, with my back straight and my head held high, silently hoping I didn't trip on my heels and fall face-first into the marble tile, because that was exactly how my night was going.