Chapter 7
SEVEN
T he Pleasure Den thrums with a palpable energy, a living, breathing entity of desire and secrets. I adjust my silver mask, feeling the cool metal against my flushed skin. The delicate filigree design allows me to observe without being truly seen, a metaphor for my life that isn't lost on me.
I weave through the crowd, my black dress a second skin, hugging every curve. The silk whispers against my thighs with each step, a constant reminder of my vulnerability and power. Eyes follow me—I feel their heat, their hunger—but I'm searching for only one gaze.
There. Across the room, leaning against the bar with predatory grace. Even with the black raptor mask obscuring half his face, I'd recognize him anywhere. Hawk. Or "Raptor," as he's known here. My pulse quickens, desire and adrenaline flooding my system in equal measure.
Our eyes lock, and the rest of the world fades away. He straightens, his broad shoulders pulling the fabric of his tailored shirt taut across his chest. I allow myself a moment to appreciate the view, knowing he's doing the same to me.
I approach slowly, deliberately. This is a dance we've perfected over the past few weeks, a delicate balance of seduction and restraint. Neither of us has acknowledged our true identities, reveling instead in the thrill of our shared secret.
"Silver," he greets me, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't grace us with your presence tonight."
I quirk an eyebrow behind my mask. "Miss me, Raptor?"
His laugh is dark honey, rich and intoxicating. "Always. No one else here can match your... intensity."
He gestures to the bartender, who slides two glasses of deep red wine toward us. I take mine, letting my fingers brush against his. Even that slight contact sets my nerves alight.
"Merlot," I note, taking a sip. "Bold choice."
Raptor leans in, his breath hot against my ear. "I'm in a bold mood tonight."
I turn my head slightly, our lips a whisper apart. "Is that so? And what brought that on?"
His hand finds the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively. "You. Always you, Silver. The way you move, the way you smell..." He inhales deeply, nuzzling the spot just below my ear. "You've changed your perfume. Jasmine and... something darker. Intoxicating."
Pride and desire war within me. I've left him little hints throughout the week—a black rose delivered to his office, a cryptic note slipped to him at his favorite restaurant. The fact that he's noticed the perfume, a custom blend I had created just for tonight, sends a thrill through me.
"I like to keep things interesting," I murmur, allowing myself to lean into his touch.
"Oh, you never fail at that." His other hand comes to rest on my hip, and he pulls me flush against him. The hard planes of his body press against my softer curves, and I have to stifle a gasp. "Shall we find somewhere more... private to continue our discussion?"
Every nerve in my body screams yes, but I force myself to maintain control. I trace a finger along his jaw, feeling the muscle twitch under my touch. "Not yet," I breathe. "I'm not finished with my wine."
Frustration and desire flash in his eyes, quickly masked by a predatory smile. "Tease," he accuses, but there's no heat in it. He enjoys our game as much as I do.
I take another sip of wine, hyperaware of his gaze on my lips, my throat. "Tell me, Raptor," I say, letting my voice drop to a husky whisper. "What would you do if you had me all to yourself?"
His grip on my hip tightens. "Dangerous question, Silver."
"I like danger."
He chuckles, the sound sending vibrations through me where our bodies touch. "I'd make you beg me to touch you."
The vivid image his words paint makes heat pool low in my belly. "And then?" I prompt, my voice embarrassingly breathy.
Raptor's hand slides lower, toying with the hem of my dress. "Then I'd bite my way up your body and eat you out until you're screaming. I'll fuck you all night long and make your legs shake. You know, like I always do."
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "You're a little full of yourself."
"I am." His voice is pure sin. "But am I lying?"
"No. You're not." I force myself to step back, instantly missing the heat of his body.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't stay longer tonight. I have other matters that require my attention."
Disappointment and hunger war in his expression before he smooths it into a neutral mask. "You can't run forever, Silver," he warns, his tone a delicious mix of promise and threat.
I lean in, my lips barely brushing his ear. "Who says I'm running?"
With that, I turn and disappear into the crowd, feeling his gaze burning into my back. My heart races, desire and adrenaline singing through my veins. It takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to look back, not to return to his arms and damn the consequences.
But I have work to do.
Back in my apartment, the soft glow of multiple computer screens pushes back the darkness. I slip out of my dress, letting it pool on the floor as I settle into my chair. The juxtaposition of my lace lingerie and the tech surrounding me isn't lost on me—Devin West, society darling and secret hacker, straddling two worlds as always.
I force thoughts of Raptor—of Hawk—aside, focusing on the task at hand. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I slip past firewalls and security protocols, burrowing deep into Regina Black's communications. I press my lights together into a tight line. I've been fighting cyber-attacks on Hawk's business for years. But recently, it's gotten out of control. Someone wants to truly take him down. It's what prompted my return sooner than I planned. Regina's a key player in the dangers to Rivers Financial.
The encrypted messages I intercept paint a troubling picture. Regina's vendetta against Hawk has escalated beyond petty rivalry. She's planning something big—corporate espionage on a scale that could cripple Hawk's latest business venture.
Anger burns hot in my chest. Regina's always been a snake, but this... this is crossing a line. I work methodically, rerouting communications, corrupting key files, planting misinformation that will send Regina's lackeys on wild goose chases.
As I work, a notification pops up on my phone. Another message from Hawk, asking to meet outside of the Den. I hesitate, my finger hovering over the screen. Part of me—a larger part than I care to admit—wants to say yes. To see him in the light of day without the masks and the games.
But that way lies danger. Vulnerability. Loss of control.
I'm about to decline when another thought strikes me. Meeting on my own turf where I have the home-field advantage... that could work to my benefit.
Before I can second-guess myself, I type out a reply.
"The Sky Bar at the Westbrook Hotel. 8 PM tomorrow. Don't be late."
The next evening, I'm nursing a gin and tonic at the bar when Hawk arrives. He cuts an impressive figure in a tailored charcoal suit, and I allow myself a moment to appreciate the view. When his eyes land on me, I see a flash of something—hunger, maybe, or triumph—before his face settles into a polite mask.
"Devin," he says, sliding onto the stool next to me. The sound of my real name on his lips sends a shiver through me. "Thank you for agreeing to meet."
I incline my head, outwardly cool despite the way my heart races. "I was curious about what was so important."
Hawk orders a whiskey neat before turning those piercing eyes on me. "I've been thinking about the night of the gala," he begins, and my body tenses.
"If this is about what happened between us, there's no need to apologize," I interject, my tone sharper than I intended. Panic rises in my throat—is he regretting being with me?
Hawk looks taken aback for a moment. "I just wanted to?—"
"We're both adults," I press on, my tone flat, desperate to regain control of the conversation. "No need for regrets."
The hurt and confusion that flash across Hawk's face make me realize I've miscalculated badly. Embarrassment and anger war within me as I stand abruptly. "I think this was a mistake," I mutter, turning to leave.
I hear Hawk call after me, but I don't stop. I make it to the elevator before he catches up, slipping inside just as the doors are closing.
"What do you want, Hawk?" I demand, staring resolutely at the polished metal doors.
He moves closer, his presence filling the small space. "To clear up this misunderstanding."
I glance up at him, confusion and annoyance warring in my chest. "What misunderstanding?"
"I wanted to apologize for not being conscious when you left," he explains, his voice low and intense. "I wanted to be awake to say good-bye."
His words hit me like a physical blow, and I feel my carefully constructed walls begin to crumble. "Oh," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Hawk reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. The gentle touch sends sparks skittering across my skin. "I don't regret what happened," he says softly. His gentle touch changes the moment his hand wraps around my throat. "Far from it."
My body is instantly ablaze and heat pools between my legs. The hand at my throat squeezes and he pins me against the back of the elevator. I swallow hard, vulnerability threatening to overwhelm me. "Neither do I," I admit, the words come out a hoarse whisper, both a surrender and a victory.
The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal an empty lobby. Neither of us moves. Hawk's gaze drops to my lips, and I know what's coming a split second before it happens.
His kiss is hard, commanding, and all-consuming. Everything I remember and more—passionate, demanding, with an underlying tenderness that makes my knees weak. I return it with equal fervor, months of pent-up desire and longing pouring out in this one perfect moment.
When we finally break apart, I'm breathless and trembling. Hawk's eyes are dark with want, but there's something else there too—a warmth, a connection that goes beyond mere physical attraction.
"Let's get some dinner," he says softly, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As we step out of the elevator, Hawk's hand holds mine, fingers entwined—a gesture both possessive and protective.
I don't feel the need to pull away. Not with Hawk. I've craved his touch for so long that I'm almost giddy with excitement having him near me. But I can't show it. It would ruin everything.
As we make our way back to the bar, my mind races.
I think of Regina's schemes, of the secrets I'm keeping, and of the delicate balance I've worked so hard to maintain. I know that pursuing this thing with Hawk—whatever it is—will complicate everything and it will give him the upper hand.
But as I feel his fingers squeeze mine while he towers over my side, I realize something.
Some games are worth losing.
And some dangers are worth embracing. And Hawk and I…we have unfinished business.