Black Hearted - An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Complete)

Black Hearted: Chapter 20

Jack studied the tiny vial of white powder nestled between the plumb breasts pushing against his chest. They belonged to the nameless woman perched on his lap. The flecks of emerald sparkle on her manicured nails glinted in the muted lights of Cloud Nine, casting a glow on her dark skin.

Those fingers ran the little container along the gold chain wrapped around her slim neck. "Want some?"

One of the first things his uncle drilled into Jack was to never sample the merchandise, never ingest the products his family business manufactured. Study after study, lawsuit after lawsuit drilled home the addictive and destructive nature of opioids. Too bad his uncle hadn't taken his own advice.

"No, sweetheart." The word felt wrong in his mouth. This girl was anything but sweet and not Solana.

His body betrayed him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as if an electric current passed through him as images of the petite blond invaded his brain. The sight of her butt in that tight black skirt on the plane. The heat of her skin when his fingers skimmed along her thigh. The taste of her mouth, sweet yet spicey, as she'd kissed him in his office.

An ache of want mixed with regret echoed in his near-empty ribcage, where his shrivelled, blackened heart sat. At the memory of her hazel eyes, aflame in desire and disgust. He'd had no idea she was a witness to his altercation with Wolfe in the lobby two days ago, until he heard her gasp. When he'd met those beautiful eyes, the expression of pity he saw there tore at his gut. The last thing he wanted was to look weak, especially in front of her.

For an instant, he'd thought she'd come to resume the activities so rudely interrupted by Wolfe the night before. Or even just to see him. Drawn to him as he was her. The ridiculous notion quickly dashed by adding insult to injury as she stood there, hand outstretched with the real purpose of her visit. It hadn't been about him at all. It had only been about money.

The envelope had remained on the floor until Wolfe snatched it up, demanding to know what it was for. Jack had been too stunned by Solana's order to stay away from her grandmother to answer at first. He didn't understand the jabbing pain in his chest at being told to avoid an old lady he barely knew.

But it did then, and it still did now, here among the low lights, lithe limbs, leather and lechery of Cloud Nine.

The cheap material of his companion's thin dress scratched at his palm as he massaged her back, focusing on her to drive thoughts of Solana from his mind. He'd come to the club tonight to forget about her. To get some much-needed relief. The last week without sex was the longest stretch of celibacy he'd experienced since his marriage.

"But I'll have another of these." He pointed to the empty glass on the table at his side.

Body parts glided against each other as the woman reached across Jack, his hand slipping from her waist to her ass as she leaned forward. What was wrong with him? He should be halfway to bliss with such a luscious bottom to squeeze. Yet there was no response below his belt. No response anywhere.

Her thick hair brushed across his cheek and he turned away at the intimacy, her sickly vanilla scent clogging his nostrils. He concentrated on the green tipped digits that tipped the bottle of scotch and poured a finger full into the crystal tumbler. She brought the refill to his lips. "Better?"

Jack plucked the glass out of her hands and drank. The liquid burned his throat as he drained all the alcohol. "More."

His selection for the night poured another glassful of the amber liquor. This time she held the tumbler away from his grasp, taking a sip, then offering herself to him. Jack crashed his mouth against hers, sucking the remaining scotch from her lips and tongue. Although his favourite brand, from this woman's mouth, the liquor tasted wrong. Sour.