Emerald Eyes (12 page)

I place the two V.I.P tickets in my soft beige Dior Bijoux Clutch when my phone chirps up, notifying me I received a text message.
 

I unlock the screen; it’s from Mr. Miller:

I’m down at the lobby. Our Limo is here. Are you ready?
 

I am, but I don’t want to ride with him and Eliza and I still need to meet Patrick to give him his ticket, so I text Mr. Miller back:

Not yet. Go ahead without me, I’ll get a cab.

I pick up my favorite perfume and plant two small drops on either side of my neck, lightly rubbing the fragrant liquid into my skin with my right wrist. Then I bring my wrists together and rub them for a few moments. Then I receive another incoming text from Mr. Miller:

See you there.

I stare blankly at the screen then place my phone inside my clutch. On my way to SoFi, I give Patrick a call.

“Katherine…” Patrick’s voice is caressing my name so sensually, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Hey… Are you there yet?”
 

“Yeah, just got here. Where are you?”
 

“I’ll be there in two minutes. Is Mr. Miller there?”

“I don’t see him… wait, didn’t you ride together?”
 

“No… I wasn’t ready when the limo came, so I got a taxi.” I lie.

“Oh, all right… well, I see you soon.” I hear his smile.

“See you soon.”

A few moments later, I reach my destination. Even before stepping out of the cab, I see the long line of people, all waiting to get into the glamorous SoFi Lounge. I find Patrick leaning against the wall with one hand behind his back. He drinks me in as I approach him with awe in his eyes.

“I… wow… I mean you look
amazing
…” he mumbles.

“Thank you. You look great too.” I smile.
 

And he does, wearing black slacks and a white shirt with its two top buttons open. Patrick’s muscular chest fills his shirt quite nicely, making me think about what that chest would look like bare. His hand comes out behind his back, holding a perfect, long stem white rose.
 

“For you.” Patrick smiles, his brown eyes warm in the streetlight.
 

I return his smile, “Thank you, it’s perfect.”
 

I inhale the sweet scent and look up at him through my long lashes.
 

I’m starting to like you.

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad you called me.”
 

“So am I.”
 

I hand Patrick the V.I.P ticket and he places his hand on the small of my back as we make our way to the tall, burly bouncer. After scanning a barcode and telling us to keep out passes with us at all times, the mammoth of a man unhooks the velvet rope, allowing us to walk inside, but not before we see all the frowns that were waiting in line.

We walk into a large lavish room that is furnished with U shaped, white couches and low lounge tables with small modern lamps. The lamps on the tables and few chandeliers above us are the only source of muted light, providing a very dim and sensual environment. The walls are deep burgundy, mixed with panels of dark wood. The busy bar is to our right, and the music is already pumping in my ears, in my stomach. It’s igniting me, flowing like hot lava in my blood. We walk further into the lounge, following a hostess who’s wearing, a black tube dress and six-inch heels. She leads us to a staircase, blocked by a burgundy velvet rope.
 

She unhooks it and says, “Just go down the stairs, there will be another host to show you to your spot.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and smiles.
 

We thank her and head down the dark stairway. Hidden LED lights are embedded into the stairs glow softly, illuminating the sturdy stairs. As I descend, the music changes abruptly into a song I know, ‘I Belong To You’ by Lenny Kravitz. With each step that I take, the bell in the song rings.
 

Damn Mark and his ‘setting the mood’ music.
 

The floor is almost identical to the one above, except the dance floor is bigger and the couches are wider. Every couch is occupied by groups of people, all dressed in luxury. The dance floor is not as busy as the one above us.
Thank God.
If there is one thing I hate, it’s the feeling of being suffocated while trying to dance.
 

After showing our tickets to the new host, he leads us to the couches in the far right end. Just as Mr. Kravitz sings that she’s the ultimate star, we reach our corner. Mr. Miller is sitting with Eliza, drinks in hand. He’s wearing a black suit with a dark grey shirt, no tie and the top two buttons undone, allowing me a glimpse of his smooth skin.
 

Mr. Miller lifts his head and notices me first, but then his gaze falls on Patrick. Mr. Miller’s eyebrows furrow a moment before he rises, leaning his head closer to mine. “I didn’t know you were going to bring a date.” Mr. Miller whispers.
 

The air escaping his mouth tickles my ear, sending goose bumps down the rest of my body.

I bring my lips to his ear and say, “It wasn’t planned, sort of last moment thing.”
 

Mr. Miller smells so intoxicating, pure male, fresh soap and a faint trace of cologne. His heady scent makes me want to spend the rest of the night glued to his neck. I inhale as deeply as I can before I force myself to lean back and face him. Mr. Miller’s striking face is not giving anything away, but in his eyes I see the fury raising, like blue flames in the inferno.
 

“Hello Eric, and who is this lovely lady?” Patrick speaks up and looks at Eliza.
 

She’s still sitting on the couch, nursing her Dirty Martini. Clad in scarlet-red mini dress with cutouts at the sides and cleavage so deep, it barely holds her boobs in.
 

“Eliza Montgomery, an old friend of mine. Eliza, this is Patrick Green, an associate.” Mr. Miller says calmly, but I can feel that he’s anything but that.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Montgomery.” Patrick reaches for her hand, and places a kiss on her knuckles. A forced smile spreads on Eliza’s lips, “Ditto.”
 

We settle down on the comfy couch and order drinks. Eliza asks for another Dirty Martini, Mr. Miller sticks to his Buchanan’s En Las Rochas. Patrick orders Jack and Coke and I get my favorite drink when I go dancing, a Mojito. I look around the room and notice the DJ’s equipment to my right. My eyes follow the speakers and electronics, leading all the way up to a large laptop, revealing Mark, who is looking straight at me. I give him a small wave and he smiles as the current song transforms into another, ‘Touch Me’ by Rui Da Silva & Cassandra.
 

Shit… Mark wasn’t joking when he said he’d be playing my playlist.
 

My breathing accelerates as images from the past flash through my mind, us kissing and dancing for the first time, his hands running up and down my body, his hard body pressing into mine as we swayed to the music. I hold Mark’s stare and he winks at me. I smile tightly
and in that moment, I know coming here was a goddamned mistake.

“I love this song!” Eliza squeals. “Come dance with me!” she’s trying to get Mr. Miller to stand up, but he won’t budge. He just leans back and says, “I’ll watch, you dance.”
 

My bright green eyes flame with envy. With a smile, Eliza straightens herself and looks at me, “Come on let’s give these boys a show.” She narrows her eyes at me when I don’t answer her. Instead, I take Patrick’s hand, “Join me?” I ask, my eyes piercing his, willing him to agree.
 

“That’s what I’m here for.” Patrick grins and stands up in one fluid motion.
 

“Sorry, maybe next time.” I say to Eliza’s scowling face.
 

Patrick leads me to the dance floor, which is busier now. Bodies moving and grinding against each other while the strobe lights shower us with strokes of erratic lines of light and flashes. Patrick’s hands move to my waist and I glide my hands up his arms to his neck. My hips sway slowly from side to side as Patrick pulls me closer to him, bringing our bodies flush against each other.

He sways to the music, matching my movements as our bodies move together to the rhythm. I look over Patrick’s shoulder and my gaze falls on Mark’s eyes, they’re glowing in the dim light with rage, I assume.
Well… too bad.

“You’re a very skilled dancer. I love how your body moves against mine.” Patrick murmurs into my ear.
 

“Thank you, so are you. I haven’t danced in a while. Feels good to be back on the dance floor.” I wink.

I turn around in his arms. With my back to his chest, I move myself like a snake with slow and deliberate undulating movements. The temperature rises around us and small beads of sweat dot the back of my neck. Patrick’s warm hands splay over my stomach, holding me closer to him. My head falls against his shoulder, and I look over at our corner. Through heavy lidded eyes, I focus on Mr. Miller, leaning back in his usual position. His right arm, draped over the back of the couch, his legs spread out and his eyes, locked on mine.
 

A small strip of light falls on Mr. Miller’s eyes, leaving the rest of his face in darkness. His eyes glimmer in the light, making them even more mesmerizing. When Mr. Miller notices he has my attention, the left corner of his delicious lips pick up into a half-smirk in the shadows.
 

Why is he smiling? I thought he was angry I brought Patrick. Just when –
My right buttock starts vibrating and I stop dancing. I look back and see Patrick pulling his cellphone out of his pant pocket. He looks down at the screen, and a slight frown forms on his handsome face.
 

“I got to take this,” his voice rising over the blaring music.
 

Patrick leads me back to our table, and exits to what I assume must be the lavatory. I sit back elegantly, and sip my Mojito through the skinny black straw. Mr. Miller’s eyes are zeroed in on my throat as I swallow slowly. I run my tongue over my lips and watch his eyes darken dangerously.
 

“Where is Eliza?” I ask, realizing she’s gone.
 

“Over there.” He points with his chin to a corner of the room, where I find Eliza grinding her derriere into some ‘lucky’ guy. My eyebrows shoot up.
 

“And you don’t mind?” I’m astonished at the ease he’s looking at her, but secretly I’m glad.
 

“Like I said before, not my girlfriend. She does whatever she wants to. She’s a big girl.”
 

She ‘does’ you…
 

Mr. Miller scoots closer to me, until our hips touch, draping his long arm around the back of my seat. “You on the other hand, I mind.” He growls in my ear.
 

Mr. Miller voice is so harsh, I have to pull away and look at him. His face is hard as stone. I frown.
 

Is he bi-polar? First he tells me to be ‘professional’, and now he has a problem with me dancing with Patrick?
 

Realization dawns on me. I got exactly what I wanted. I got my answer. Mr. Miller cares. He wants me too. I look away from him and my frown shift into a soft smile. I look back at Mr. Miller and see Patrick coming back to the table, clearly not happy about something.

“Katherine, I’m sorry but I have to go. My father is not feeling well and asked me to come back to our room.” Patrick says while he grabs his jacket.
 

His disappointment is visible through the slight wrinkles that have formed between his furrowing eyebrows. I put my drink on the table and stand.

“Oh no. I hope he’s not very ill, I’ll walk you out if you’d like.” I say with genuine concern.
 

“No, that’s all right, enjoy your night. I’ll call you later.” Patrick leans in and kisses my cheek. He says his goodbyes to Mr. Miller then turns and leaves. I sit back down, a few good inches away from Mr. Miller, just to see if he’ll scoot closer to me again. Mr. Miller doesn’t move though, he only sips the amber liquid in his tumbler, not taking his eyes off me. He says something but the music is too loud, I only see his lips move. I try reading his sensual lips, but it’s too dim for that. I have no other choice but to move closer to him.
 

Ugh… he did that on purpose.
 

“You are too far.” Mr. Miller whispers into my ear when I’m a hairbreadth away.

“Just keeping things professional.” I say with as much sarcasm that I can manage.
 

I see rather hear, the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath. A redhead waitress comes up to our table, holding a small round tray with a shot glass of Lemon Drop and a small folded note. She puts them on the table in front of me.
 

“I didn’t order this.” I say.
 

She smiles and taps the note twice with her finger. I look at Mr. Miller, but he just lifts an eyebrow and looks back at the note. Intrigued, I take the note and open it.

Your favorite… drink up, dance for me and listen to the lyrics. Dedicated to you, M.

I quickly fold the note back and look up at Mark. The moment our eyes meet, the current song fades out and a new song with an electric beat starts.

Not from my playlist…
 

I drink the shot, but I decide to sit and listen rather than dance for him.
 

Fat chance buddy
…

But the beat is so invigorating; I can’t help but to bounce my leg to the rhythm. The song is about starting anew and how the guy wants her ‘Superlove’, and after a few moments, I recognize the undeniable voice of Lenny Kravitz. He keeps singing about wanting to be inside her ‘Superlove’. I shake my head slightly with a small smile.
Seriously?

I glance at Mr. Miller, who takes the last shot of his drink. He sets the tumble on the table with such force it almost breaks the glass. He calls the waitress and orders another. I know Mr. Miller’s reaction should frighten me, but the only thing I’m feeling is glee. I’m delighted he’s losing his composure, showing me a glimpse of him… the real Mr. Miller.