Seamus was on duty, as usual. The doorman rose from behind his wide reception desk and gave her a welcoming nod as she stepped into the quiet lobby. “Evening, Miss Gates.”
“Hello, Seamus,” she greeted, trying to walk nonchalantly across the polished marble floor.
“Mr. Bentley-Squire’s looking for you, Miss Gates,” Seamus informed her. “He called several times tonight to ask if I’d seen you, even stopped by a short while ago—”
The doorman abruptly clammed up the instant he noticed Jordana wasn’t alone.
“Thank you, Seamus,” Jordana said, keenly aware of Nathan’s presence as he followed her out of the elevator and across the lobby, neither waiting for permission nor asking for it.
She saw the middle-age human guard warily eye the dark and dangerous-looking Breed warrior at her heels. It wasn’t every night that Jordana traipsed through her building in the company of a man, let alone one dressed in patrol gear and bristling with deadly weapons.
And it didn’t help that she likely carried the unsavory fragrances of the club on her as she sailed past Seamus’s desk.
The doorman cleared his throat. “Everything okay tonight, Miss Gates?”
“Yes, of course. Everything is fine. Good night, Seamus.”
She gave him a practiced smile, one that invited no further comment, as Nathan proceeded to trail her to the penthouse elevator in broody silence.
As soon as the polished steel doors closed behind them, Jordana closed her eyes and blew out a sigh. “The whole building’s going to know about this tomorrow. Seamus is sweet and well meaning, but discretion isn’t one of his strong suits.” She slowly shook her head, then pressed the button for the penthouse floor. “I can only imagine what he must be thinking about me right now—”
“Why do you care what that human rent-a-cop thinks?” Nathan’s low voice was little more than a growl as he moved so he was facing her inside the lift. “Why do you care what anyone might think of you?”
“Because I’m a Gates.” An automatic answer, a standard she held herself to from the time she was a child. “Certain things are expected of my family. And of me. I have to care what people think.”
“Bullshit.”
Startled, she looked up into Nathan’s stormy gaze, realizing only now just how close he stood to her. Heat radiated from the large, muscular bulk of his body, sending a flush to her cheeks and down between her breasts. Then lower still.
Nathan didn’t need to say anything—he didn’t need to do anything—and yet his presence was so dominating, it seemed to suck all the air out of the small space.
Although some insane compulsion drew her toward all of that heat and power, Jordana inched backward, not stopping until her spine bumped against the rear of the ascending car.
He was right there too, crowding her physically, forcing her to hold his probing stare. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You hide behind the crutch of your family’s name and whatever obligation you feel toward it, but that’s not what I’m asking you. I want to know why you hide.”
He moved closer, leaving her no room to escape. No room to avoid his piercing eyes or the chaos of her own senses as every nerve ending inside her came alive with awareness of this man and her dangerous craving for him.>Desire ignited in a flash, hot and consuming. His cock answered the surge of need coursing through him, suddenly straining behind his black combat fatigues.
Nathan knew his pupils were winnowing down to narrow slits as he drank in the sight of Jordana’s disheveled beauty. The amber light of his transforming irises bathed her face in a dim glow.
His body’s swift reaction shocked him. And he was more than a little disturbed that he couldn’t seem to master his urges when it came to this particular woman.
Never one to back down, however, Nathan advanced on her. He called a command to his teammates to sweep out the back rooms and VIP lounge, ordering them to send every last person out of the place.
“The party’s over,” he snarled, his eyes still rooted on Jordana.
She scowled up at him, planting her hands on the tempting curves of her hips. “What right did you have to do that?” she demanded, her words sounding thicker than normal, no doubt thanks to the alcohol she’d consumed.
Nathan held her annoyed stare. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice this place makes its profits off illegal blood sport and gambling. Not to mention other deviant amusements you’d rather not know about,” he added. “It’s about time someone shuts this hellhole down.”
“No,” she said, tossing her head back and forth. The motion collapsed her loosely gathered mane and sent the platinum waves tumbling around her shoulders and down her back. “No, I’m talking about you, Nathan. What right did you have to storm into my life and mess everything up?”
He frowned, taken aback, not only by the question but by the sound of his name on her lips. “I stormed into your life?”
“Yes, you did.” She moved closer to him, until there was hardly an arm’s length between them. Then closer still. “You’re a dark, dangerous storm, Nathan.” She tilted her head back, her glacial blue eyes arresting, even in the darkness of the club. “If I’m not careful, I’m going to leap off a cliff with you.”
He blew out a curse, peering harder at her. Christ, just how much had she had to drink tonight? She might be speaking nonsense due to one too many cocktails, but her steady, searching gaze and parted lips were communicating to his senses clearly enough.
“You’re the worst thing that could ever happen to me, Nathan.”