Yeah, that was a turn on.

And when she agreed to meet him for a drink, he knew he couldn't just bring her anywhere. He was calling in a favor for reservations at Dark Tower Suites' VIP only lounge. Best drinks in the city. Located in the one 5-Star hotel his father didn't own.

~

Liam went with an upscale-casual approach, his button down shirt open to the a-shirt beneath, cuffs rolled up to expose the ink sleeves covering his forearms in dragon motifs.

His trousers were loose-fitted, enough to reveal his physique without him stepping too far over the metrosexual line. He was serious about his appearance, but not obsessed to the point of brow-waxing and manscaping.

And he had a brand to protect.

If he was recognized by someone inclined to take snapshots, he needed to maintain that cool, laid back persona that had launched his shops on the backs of the cleverly designed ad-campaigns he'd ensured went viral.

Slinking out of his car, he let the door close with a click.

"How long?"

"Keep it warm for awhile. If I'm not out in an hour, park it for the night."

Tucking a Benjamin and keys into the valet's palm, he gave him a nod and made his way to the service elevators. He'd tatted so many socialites here before the shops took off, he still claimed a certain amount of access that let him wander whichever way he took a notion to.

Perks of the privileged life.

One of the few things he actually appreciated about his position, aside from the independence it afforded him (the latter at the very center of why he'd gone into business for himself to begin with).

Early as usual, he strolled into the velvet-walled lounge an hour before he asked Jackie to arrive, keen to sip on a baby drink to warm himself up. He shouldn't be nervous, rarely was with these sorts of things, but he was undeniably uneasy about this meeting. Maybe because he knew what he was getting (if everything checked out, and he wasn't being catfished).

Like a lot of men, he'd been intimidated by the smart ones early on, opting instead for what was easiest. Until the flavor of "what was easiest" revealed it had next to no depth, and a woefully synthetic aftertaste he'd grown to loathe.

Still the predictability of it all had been a crutch, and he was seeing how heavily he'd leaned on it now, when he didn't have time to form a thought, let alone strategize how to lure a female who actually possessed an identity that wasn't fashioned to mimic the higher-paid bimbos of the day.

Returning the wink of a gorgeous blonde in a glittering, black evening gown slinking by like a wild cat, a burst of the old confidence rose back to the surface, and Liam was soon back on track, sure he'd be just fine when Jackie sauntered in. Ordering a warm Sake at the bar, he guzzled it, waiting until the heat of it flushed his cheeks, then he ordered one more, which he nursed for the remaining forty-five minutes he had ahead of him.

In that time, he contented himself with the adult versions of "Where's Waldo" that filled the tablet screens connected to the half-moon booths, played a few dollar slots for the sheer fuck of it, and finally settled into an internal game of "guess-the-call-girl," in which he rewarded himself with several servings from the saucer of Godiva chocolates in front of him every time a friendly conversation between strangers resulted in the passing of a credit card through a four-square swipe attached to said lady vamp's cell phone, then evolved into a quick trip upstairs to the palatial rooms of Dark Tower West.

Jackie herself didn't make an appearance until well after 10, twenty minutes later than they'd agreed. But he didn't allow his frustration with that to ruin their night. With an approving glint in his eye, he made his way over to her before she spotted him, like a wild cat identifying the one he would devour before she had a chance to get away.

Her avatar didn't hold a candle to real thing.

She was a fucking ten on the scale of real women who don't need to overcompensate to be noticed. Eyes darkening, his gaze swept over her with keen approval. She'd chosen a backless, black cocktail dress, accented with emerald drop earrings, hair swept back from her face in a classy, side bun that showed just enough ear to make him fixate on nibbling one of those tawny lobes by night's end.

This girl was well above the mark, but he had enough alcohol in him to keep from falling into any thoughts that he couldn't close the deal.

He would.

Something about the way she made his stomach flip told him she was his. And he'd learned early to believe his instincts. They hadn't steered him wrong, yet. They certainly wouldn't start now.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?"

Tugging his collar, he leaned on the bar beside her with the confident smirk he wore like armor around the girls that made him nervous like this. His heart literally skipped a beat when her eyes turned to size him, dark and heavy, smoldering as they locked onto him. For a beat, he wasn't sure if he'd erred with the cheesy pick up line; he hadn't been seriously trying to use it.

It was an icebreaker.

Relief swept over him when a grin ticked her mouth.

"Need some time to flip through your pocket guide to 'Closing the Deal' for another one of those?"

He nipped his lip and pulled, her wit going straight to the core one look at her had already begun to awaken.

"No, I'm good. Thinking I'll just play it straight from here, or rely on my classically good looks."

He winked at her, and she leaned into the bar with a posture that told him she was intrigued now, interested enough to let him buy her a drink. Score. His eyes swept over her more brazenly than he was sure they should, and when her cheeks flushed just at the surface, he relaxed knowing it flattered her more than put her off.

Shit, why was he this nervous around her? Next his palms would start sweating like a 14 year old approaching the prettiest girl in school.

Looking him over, Jackie grinned.

"It is a classic sort of handsome. I'll give you that."

Averting her eyes, she panned the lounge, sliding back a bit in a stool seat that barely accommodated the marvellous round of her backside. This girl was a certified banger.

Ass. For. Days.

The kind you took it slow with, but Liam knew himself. He didn't do slow. He'd be all over her if he saw even the slightest hint of a green light in those inky, lotus eyes of hers. Leaning deeper over the counter, he ticked his head at the bartender who lowered his rag with a stone face, making his way over.

"Help you?"

The kid looked young, almost prepubescent, and it was clear by the thinly-veiled glare in his eyes that he wasn't impressed with the clientele he served.

He was probably someone with a hard background who'd taken the gig strictly to fund ambitions lofty enough to buy him a better lease on life. Liam knew that look and the torment that fuelled it. He was all too familiar with life on the 'wrong side of the tracks,' and he had the scars to prove it, inside and out.

Turning to catch Jackie looking him over, to his flattered surprise, he flashed her a grin that told her he'd caught her checking him out, and when her cheeks flushed once more, he felt a tightening in his pants from the strain of his interest.

"Red or white?"

"Hmm? Oh. Red."

His kind of girl.

"We'll take a bottle of Port. Top shelf."

"Sure thing."

~

Three glasses in, the raven-haired beauty warmed enough to laugh a little more openly at his intentionally, bad jokes, and Liam was well on his way to closing the deal when his fingers grazed hers, flirting a light brush over the cuticles of her lacquered black nail beds.