Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Stefan, one of the Doms at the bar—a man who was devouring his trust fund, sleeping all day, partying all night, and discarding a relationship a week—glanced toward Willow.
Jax mentally repeated the club’s rules.
Willow was at least twenty-one, capable of making her own decisions. She was also free to allow a Dom to tie her up, blindfold her, flog her.
What she did was none of his business.
Still watching her, Stefan grabbed a cane from the top of the bar and tapped it against his open palm, as if in deep thought. Then he slid off his chair.
Jax snapped his back teeth together. No one was touching Willow. No one but him.
Fuck the club rules.
* * * * *
Shit.
The bartender slid a napkin in front of Willow. She snatched it close and shredded the edges.
“What will it be?”
Hemlock. “Something virgin.” Like she wished she wasn’t.
“Piña colada?”
“That sounds perfect.” She tried to smile, but her facial muscles seemed frozen. “Thanks.”
When she’d first started coming to the Quarter a little more than a year ago, she’d been wary, expecting to see someone who knew her father. The Quarter had a lot of members who moved in his circles, but as the months passed, she relaxed. She was comfortable flying down from grad school during breaks, and she’d become adept at navigating the intricacies of getting her needs met in a place far from home. Attending a club in New York would be easier, but after the disaster with Lawrence, she was on a break from romantic relationships. Traveling to New Orleans helped make that easier.
She risked another glance at Jaxon Mills. He was staring at her. Of all people here, why, oh why did she have to come face-to-face with the cockiest damn billionaire on the planet?
Even though he was across the room, he unnerved her, and she tore the napkin in half.
Since the moment she saw the digital marketing entrepreneur, she’d disliked him. Four years ago, Willow and her father had been among a dozen or so people who crowded into Jax’s office while he recorded a video. In her naivete, she’d thought he’d be dressed in a business suit. Instead, a black T-shirt swaddled him, tight enough to show off his honed abs. Confidence and energy ignited his dark-green eyes. He spoke with rapid-fire speed, sharing strategies about how to connect on social media and build an empire like his. His presentation had been passionate and engaging, but then he’d told viewers to stop whining if they weren’t enjoying the success they wanted and ordered them to get off their fucking asses and make something happen.
Shock made her drop her purse. Once the camera stopped rolling, he stood, shook hands, and high-fived another successful Jaxon Media presentation. His staff offered accolades, and he drank them in as his due, everyone bowing before the king. Who the hell behaved like that?
From her mother, Willow had inherited a different worldview, where everyone was better off working together and being supportive. Motivation was crucial. She’d been taught to offer support or lend a helping hand. But beating people up? Everything in Willow despised his self-important approach.
After his crew filed out, her father introduced them, and she forced a polite nod. Jax turned his massive focus on her. He sought her hand, and when she reluctantly accepted, electricity arced through her. The physical awareness of his power had been unwelcome and left a memorable impression on her. He repeated her name, rolling it around on his tongue, seeming to taste the syllables. Willow had never forgotten the way the he’d seared her senses.
She had the exact same reaction when he’d looked at her a few seconds ago.
Even though her appearance was dramatically different, his pupils had dilated. He recognized her. Despite the Quarter’s rules, the way he leaned forward told her he intended to do something about it.
Her pulse had skidded.
Not only was the arrogant bastard at her favorite club—he was a freaking Dom. As much as she wanted to pretend that didn’t matter, her submissive instincts stirred. On an elemental level, she was compelled to respond to him. What would it be like to be claimed by a man with that level of confidence? And it wasn’t false bravado. A million people a day, maybe more, hung on his words, even when they were harsh. If he was as competent with a paddle as he was with a microphone…
Willow shook away the inane fantasy.
Deciding to be brave, she straightened her back in time to see a man headed her direction. He tapped a cane against his calf as he walked, and his gaze was fixed on her. Thank God. She could forget about Jaxon Mills and get on with her night.
“Good evening.” The stranger extended his hand. “May I join you?”
“That would be—”
“No. You may not. The young lady is with me.”