Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

Whoa. That was my stomach dropping.
I send him a tight smile and look away, squirming. I wish I
knew why making eye contact with the man feels so visceral.
It’s like every time I meet his gaze, he’s reaching into my
stomach to squeeze my guts in his big fist.
I neglected to tell Sloane about his comment. The “you are
beautiful” one that I’ve been trying not to think about all day.
The one accompanied by a gruff tone of voice and that look in
his eye that I’m quickly becoming familiar with. That strange
mix of intensity and hostility, warmed with what I’d think was
curiosity if I didn’t know better.
I busy myself with staring down at the casino floor until
the maître d’ returns, smiling.
“Miss, the gentleman at the table against the wall requests
that you join him for dinner.”
He gestures to where Kage sits watching me like a hunter
peering at a doe through the sights of a rifle.
My heart thumping, I hesitate, unsure what to do. It would
be rude to refuse, but I hardly know the man. What I do know
of him is confusing, to say the least.
And tonight. Why did I have to run into him again tonight?
The maître d’ smiles wider. “Yes, he said you’d be
reluctant, but he promises to be on his best behavior.”
His best behavior? What would that look like?
Before I can imagine, the maître d’ is helping me out of
my chair and leading me by the elbow across the restaurant.
Apparently, I don’t have a choice in the matter.
We arrive at Kage’s tableside. I’m surprised to find him
standing. He doesn’t seem like someone who’d bother with
such formalities.
The maître d’ pulls out the chair opposite his, bows, and
retreats, leaving me standing there awkwardly as Kage stares
at me with burning eyes.
“Please, sit.”