Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Seraphina

I sip my martini, watching intently as Abe argues with some distinguished-looking older man across the bar.

Their voices grow louder, more heated, though I can't make out the words over the din of music and chatter.

Abe's jaw clenches, his aqua eyes flashing dangerously.

I've never seen him like this before—angry, on edge, like he's ready to explode.

Part of me wants to rush over there, to try to calm him down, defuse the situation.

But I hesitate. Obviously this is something personal.

I turn to Jack across from me in the booth. "Should I go over there? Try to break it up?"

He furrows his brow, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

After a long moment, he shakes his head. "Let Abe handle it. It's his business, Seraphina." His tone leaves no room for argument.

I fidget with my cocktail napkin, uneasy energy coiling in my gut as I watch the confrontation escalate from afar.

What could possibly have Abe so riled up? So ready for a fight?

I want to trust Jack, to let it play out.

And I try, but seeing Abe like this awakens a fierce protectiveness in me, an unshakable need to have his back, to shield him, even if he doesn't need it.

Even if it's not my place.

My fingers tap restlessly against my thigh as I war with myself, fighting the urge to intervene.

Abe is more than capable of taking care of himself.

Yet, I can't just sit here and do nothing.

Ignoring Jack's warning, I slide out of the booth and strut over to where Abe and the man are arguing, my red-soled heels clicking forcefully against the floor.

As I approach, snippets of their heated exchange reach my ears.

The stranger's eyes flick dismissively over me as I come to a stop beside Abe, one hand on my cocked hip. "This doesn't concern you, princess. Run along now."

Indignation flares hot in my veins.

How dare he speak to me that way.

"I think you should leave," I state coolly, holding his gaze. "Now."

A nasty smirk twists his thin lips. " Заткнись, ты, избалованная британская сука, " he spits in Russian, the foreign words dripping with disdain.

I have no idea what he said, but it clearly wasn't polite.

Abe's face darkens with rage as he steps between us, shoving the man back with a hand to the chest.

" смей так с ней разговаривать! " he growls, voice low and menacing. " Убирайся отсюда к чёрту, пока я тебе горло не перерезал ."

The venom in Abe's tone sends a shiver down my spine, even as a thrill washes through me at his fierce defense.

I may not understand the words, but his message is crystal clear—no one disrespects me. No one.

Abe remains firmly planted in front of me, a wall of coiled muscle and barely leashed aggression as he stares the other man down. "Don't ever speak to her that way again," he warns in English, deathly calm. "Or we're going to have a real fucking problem. Understand?"

The older man chuckles a wry, humorless sound that grates on my nerves.

He shakes his head, a condescending glint in his cold eyes as they flick over me dismissively before returning to Abe.

"Always thinking with the wrong head," he sneers in thickly accented English. "Some things never change."

With that cryptic parting shot, he turns on his heel and strides away, expensive suit jacket stretching across broad shoulders.

Abe glares after him, jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

The tension rolling off him is palpable, a living thing that crackles in the air between us.

After a long, charged moment, he exhales harshly and wraps an arm around my waist, steering me back toward our booth.

His touch gentles as he pulls me into his side, but I can still feel the rigidity in his posture, the tight coil of his muscles.

As we slide onto the black vinyl bench seat, I notice Jack whisking Rita off toward the bar, clearly trying to give us some privacy.

Bless him.

I twist to face Abe fully, one hand coming to rest on his thigh.

"What was that all about?" I ask softly, searching his shuttered expression. "Who was that man?"

Abe takes a slow, measured breath, blowing it out between pursed lips.

He seems to be gathering his thoughts, choosing his words carefully.

I wait patiently, absently rubbing my thumb along the inseam of his dark jeans.

"That," he finally says, voice low and raw, "…was my father."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

I wasn't expecting that.

Abe's never mentioned his family before. "Your father? I didn't realize..."

"We don't talk," he cuts in brusquely. "He's...difficult. Always has been. It's complicated."

I nod slowly, digesting that.

I want to press for more, to understand the history there, but I can tell by his closed-off demeanor that now isn't the time.

"Family business then," I murmur, half to myself. "Seems it's rarely simple."

"You have no idea," he mutters darkly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

When he drops it, his expression has cleared somewhat, though a trace of strain still lingers around his eyes.

Abe's arm tightens around me, hauling me closer until I'm practically in his lap. "Forget him," he rumbles, nuzzling into my hair. "Nothing to worry that pretty head about."

I hum noncommittally, unconvinced but willing to let it drop for now.

Clearly, there are more than a few skeletons in Abe's closet when it comes to his dear old dad.

But that's a conversation for another day.

For the moment, I'm content to let him hold me close, reveling in the solid heat of his body and the spicy scent of his cologne.

The rest of the world falls away as I burrow deeper into his embrace, his presence an anchor in the midst of the revelations and chaos.

Here, in the circle of his arms, I feel something I haven't in a long time—cherished.

Protected.

Like nothing can touch me, as long as he's by my side.

It's a dangerous notion, one I shouldn't indulge.

My life is too precarious, my secrets too deadly, to let anyone in, least of all a man like Abe.

But just for tonight, I'm going to allow myself the pleasure of pretending I could.

I'll let myself imagine that this could be real, that we could have something deeper than the undeniable lust sparking between us.

Tomorrow I'll come back to my senses, put on my armor, and focus on my mission.

Tonight I'm going to enjoy every stolen second in Abe's orbit, propriety, and good sense be damned.

"So, you're Russian then," I muse aloud, tilting my head to study Abe's striking features.

A wry smile tugs at his lips as he meets my gaze.

"Yeah, on my dad's side. And half Guatemalan, courtesy of my madre ." He chuckles, the sound a rich rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

Suddenly, it all makes sense—the warm olive tone of his skin, the exotic slant of his cheekbones.

He's a perfect blend of his heritage, a bronze god carved from the finest marble.

I let my eyes drink him in, committing every detail to memory.

As we chat, I find myself drawn to Abe in a way I've never experienced before.

He's charming and witty, with a sharp intellect that keeps me on my toes.

Our banter flows effortlessly, the chemistry between us undeniable.

"You know," Abe muses, a mischievous glint in his eye, "my father was right about one thing. You are a spoiled British princess."

I gasp in mock outrage, jabbing him in the side with my elbow. "Is that what he said? Well, excuse me, sir. I just have to correct you. I am a queen!" I retort primly, fighting back a grin.

Abe's laughter fills the air, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "My apologies, Your Majesty," he teases, dipping his head in a playful bow.

The next thing I know, his lips are on mine, claiming me in a searing kiss that steals the breath from my lungs.

I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, exploring my mouth with a skill that leaves me weak in the knees.

When we finally break apart, I'm panting, my heart racing in my chest.

Abe rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with my own.

I whisper, throwing caution to the wind. "Come home with me tonight."

I want him, all of him, consequences be damned.

Abe's eyes darken with desire, his grip on my waist tightening. "I'm good with that," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "When do you want to leave?"

I giggle lightly, "Right the fuck now."

Abe smirks at me and nods.

As we make our way out of the bar, I can hardly believe I'm doing this.

But there's something about Abe that makes me want to take risks, to embrace the moment, and see where it leads.

Tonight, I'm not the dutiful daughter or the cunning avenger.

I'm just Seraphina, a woman in the throes of passion, ready to lose myself in the arms of a man who sets my soul on fire.

Let tomorrow bring what it may.

Tonight, I'm living for the here and now, and the promise of ecstasy that awaits.

I walk outside and my driver is waiting on the other side of the street.

I don't always make him drive, but there are days where I do like to take my sportscar out for a spin.

My driver starts to get out of the car, so he can open my door, but Abe shakes his head. "I can open the door for the lady, sir."

My driver smirks and rolls up his window as Abe opens the door for me.

I slide into the plush leather seat of the Rolls-Royce, my heart pounding in my chest as Abe follows after me.

As he settles in beside me, his large frame taking up most of the space, I can't help but be acutely aware of his presence.

The scent of his cologne fills the car, a musky blend of citrus and sandalwood that is unmistakably masculine and utterly intoxicating.

My driver turns back to glance at me in the rearview mirror. "Home then, Miss Seraphina?"

"Home," I confirm with him, turning my attention back to Abe.

We're soon moving smoothly through the neon-lit streets of Las Vegas, the city's vibrant nightlife a colorful backdrop to our drive.

Music flows from the car's speakers—something mellow and bluesy that suits the mood perfectly.

My driver keeps his eyes on the road, discreetly giving us the illusion of privacy.

Abe's hand finds mine on the leather seat, his fingers lacing through mine in a gentle grip.

His thumb brushes over my knuckles in a soothing rhythm, the simple action somehow managing to calm my racing heart.

I tear my eyes away from our entwined hands, turning to study his profile.

Abe's eyes are focused out the window, watching the city lights fly by in a blur of colors.

His jaw is tense, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I venture quietly, not wanting to break the comfortable silence that has descended.

Abe's head turns toward me, his aqua blue eyes meeting mine.

There's something unreadable in his gaze as he studies me, making me squirm under his intense scrutiny.

"I was just thinking..." He begins, his voice low and husky. "This feels... different."

Involuntarily, my heart skips a beat. "Different?"

Abe nods slowly, reaching up with his free hand to tuck a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah... different," He repeats, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I mean, I've spent nights with women before, but this... with you... it doesn't feel the same."

A strange thrill runs down my spine, making me shiver slightly.

I raise an eyebrow at him, teasingly. "Oh? And what exactly feels different about tonight?"

Abe is quiet for a moment, just looking at me with those mesmerizing eyes.

Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's like... I don't know. Like everything else fades away when I'm with you."

I gaze at him in surprise, my heart pounding in my chest.

His words echo my own thoughts from earlier tonight and hearing them spoken out loud leaves me breathless.

"Well," I reply softly, gathering my thoughts, "maybe that's because we're both so focused on each other, that there's no room for anything else."

Abe chuckles, "Well, I welcome the break."