Needing 13 - Johnny Kavanagh

BLACK WIDOW

TARA

"You look gorgeous, princess," Malachy declared with a grin as he caught sight of me, his eyes widening in admiration. "Utterly breathtaking," he added, his voice filled with genuine awe.

I was wearing a black silk dress that shimmered subtly under the ambient light. The back of the dress was held together by an elaborate metal cage that looked like a delicate, silver spider.

As he handed our invitation to the security guard stationed at the entrance, I glanced around and asked, "Where's your brother?"

"Right behind you, princess," came Ciaran's familiar, playful tone, laced with a hint of mischief. I turned to find him leaning against a nearby pillar, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your ass looks fantastic in that dress. I knew exactly what I was doing when I picked it out."

"Pass me a drink."

"Jack and Coke for you," he said, handing me a glass filled with amber liquid and ice. "And hard lemonade for Mr. Grumpy here," he added, offering another drink to Malachy, who shot him a sidelong glare. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"

The three of us leaned on the railing overlooking the crowd below. The room was filled with the vibrant hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic pulse of music.

"We'll be close by if you need help."

If you thought Joey was overprotective, you hadn't met Malachy O'Leary. His fierce protectiveness bordered on possessive, but I understood why and found it very endearing. He made me feel safe.

"You take care of closing the deal, and I'll do the rest,"

With that, I gave a quick nod and made my way down the sweeping staircase, the soft rustle of my dress trailing behind me as I descended. I wove through the elegantly dressed crowd and reached for the bar.

The murmur of the crowd and the soft jazz music in the background made me unaware of the approach until I felt a warm breath against my neck and a light, yet firm, hand resting on my back.

"What's an angel like you doing in a place like this?" he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that sent a shiver down my spine.

"What's a married man like you doing in a place like this?" I replied coolly, meeting his gaze head-on. His surprise was evident, but he quickly masked it with a charming smile.

"What makes you think I'm married, angel?" he asked, his lips curling into a sly smile as he signaled the bartender. "A whiskey on the rocks for me and," he ordered, then turned his gaze back to me with a roguish glint in his eye. "And, may I buy you a drink?"

"Jack & Coke."

"And a Jack & Coke for the lady," he finished, holding out his card to pay.

I glanced at his hand and noticed he had a faint tan line on his left ring finger. "Your ring mark is showing."

The bartender soon returned with our drinks. He handed me mine with a courteous nod, taking a sip of his whiskey before meeting my gaze once more. "Does that bother you?"

"I'm not one to judge."

"Mark Allen," he introduced himself. He seemed to be a little older than Malachy, with a confident, almost predatory demeanor. "I thought the Black Widow was just a myth. Apparently not, seeing you here," he added, his eyes traveling over me with a hint of lust.

"So, Mark," I said, pausing to savor the sound of his name, "can I call you that?"

"You can call me whatever you want."