“I won’t,” I say, unsure how I can possibly keep that promise in a place as packed as Silver. “I owe you.”
“A fruit basket will suffice,” he says, grinning widely, but it drops quickly, and his eyes dart around the area as if he’s ensuring nobody can overhear us. “If you run into anyone and they ask what you’re doing, tell them you’re a guest of Paxton Ramsey.”
“A fruit basket it is.” I grin. “Thank you, Paxton. I appreciate your hospitality. Perhaps you should run the place.”
He grunts. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss . . .?”
“Just call me Raven.”
One side of his mouth lifts as he appears to mull over my name, finally deciding it’s suitable.
“Nice to meet you, Raven. Enjoy your night.”
Just like that, Paxton is off and linking arms with a beautiful blonde swathed in diamonds and barely covered by a red micro mini dress.
I don’t waste time heading toward this elusive VIP restroom. I need to empty my bladder, grab a glass of water from the bar, and call it a night.
Paxton wasn’t kidding when he said the hallway was hard to find. It’s set up like something out of Labyrinth, a movie I once watched with a kid I babysat in high school. It’s like an illusion. Looks like a wall, but really, it hides a secret hallway.
Very cool.
“Metal door,” I say out loud, recalling Paxton’s directions.
I open the first metal door in the hall I see, and there is a bathroom here, thank goodness! In and out in no time. Once I leave the bathroom, I start to head back to my friends when I hear voices from the opposite end of the hallway and begin to panic.
Paxton told me not to get caught.
My eyes scan the area, landing on another metal door. Another bathroom, perfect.
I rush to it and exhale in relief when the doorknob wiggles. I twist the knob and back myself into the room just as two people round the corner.
I click the door shut quietly and wait in the dark for a few seconds, hoping I wasn’t seen.
“Well, isn’t this an unexpected turn of events?”
My breath hitches, goose bumps rise over my arms, and tingles work their way down my spine.
Intoxicating is the only way to describe the sophisticated, sexy-as-hell British voice washing over me and turning my stomach to jelly.
Holy. Hell.
I have no clue who the man is or why he’s sitting in the dark room, but the way my body reacts to the stranger I’ve yet to see is concerning on all levels.
“What are you doing in here?”
The man chuckles. “I could ask you the same thing, love. Except, I know why you’re here.”
I turn around to face him despite the fact I can’t see even an inch in front of me. “Is that so? Why, pray tell, am I in this pitch-black shoebox with a strange man?”
He huffs. “Strange man? Don’t play coy. You followed me here.”
A choked laugh bursts from my chest. He’s insane.
“I did no such thing.” My voice pitches. “Follow you? I don’t even know who you are.”
“Well then, my mistake.” The humor in his voice puts me at ease.
He doesn’t sound like a psycho. Then again, what does a psycho actually sound like?
I watch too much true crime and way too many Netflix documentaries on serial killers. My overactive imagination is getting the better of me.
This is just a man. In a dark room. Alone.
There has to be a reasonable explanation, just like I have. I’ll tell him I was still looking for the bathrooms. “I was told this is a private VIP restroom. What’s your excuse for hiding in the dark?”
The man does something akin to a snort. “This is hardly the toilet,” he says. “You’ve found yourself locked in a cloakroom, love. We’re stuck.”
“A cloakroom?” The words are barely a whisper. “Locked?”
I can’t see anything, and that fact causes anxiety to surface.
“Locked,” he repeats.
I spin around, hands fumbling to locate the doorknob, but when I finally find it, the air whooshes from my chest.
He’s right. It won’t open.
The heady feeling from moments ago is gone, and fear is taking root.
“Where are you going? I told you . . . we’re stuck.”
I turn slowly, back pressing against the door.
Calm down, Raven.
No such luck. Fear has me in its clutches and has effectively cut off my air supply. I’m not sure if it’s the man’s proximity or my slight claustrophobia kicking in, but I’m losing my cool.
My hands ball into fists, and my eyes slam shut as I work on my breathing.
The chair screeches across the tile floor as it sounds like the man stands.
Here I am, alone in this tight space, with a guy I haven’t even seen. What if he hurts me? What if I’m left for dead? Body convulsing and breathing ragged, I try my best to calm myself, but it’s no use.
The man comes closer until his body is practically hovering over me.
“Damn,” he says into my neck.
“W-What are you doing?”
“Looking for a switch. There has to be—” His words are cut off when a light overhead beams down on us. “There we go.”
My knees give out, and I slump toward the ground, but the stranger manages to catch me under the arms, hauling me up and pressing me against the door.
“Calm down.” One hand continues to hold me up while the other lifts my chin. “Breathe. You’ll be all right.”
His voice is like honey, slipping around me in a cocoon of warmth. My breathing slows, and the panic ebbs.
“Good girl. Keep breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I’ve got you.”
With every passing second, my body relaxes, and he presses into me further.
When I’m completely calm and under control, the nearness of the man becomes more evident. My eyes open, and my breath hitches.
It’s him.
“You,” I say breathily, looking up into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.
He smirks down at me, showcasing two dimples. “Ah, so you were eyeing me up.”
My cheeks heat, and embarrassment builds. “You can let me go now,” I say, meeting his gaze.
“Right, then,” he says, backing up and putting several inches between us.
I straighten my dress and run a hand through my hair, wondering if I look as horrible as I feel.
“You look fine.”
My eyes sweep over his gorgeous face. Chiseled cheeks, strong jaw, straight nose . . . the stuff of gods. My head dips to the ground, feeling entirely off-balance.
“I thought I was going to have to attempt resuscitation in the dark, love. You were quite out of sorts.”
“Raven.”
His eyes narrow in on me.
“My name is Raven. Not love.”
“Raven.” He tests out the name, lips pursing. “Well . . . now that you’ve found me, perhaps we should make the best of this current situation.”
“I wasn’t looking for you. Paxton told me—”
His brows shoot up. “Paxton,” he drawls. “I see my mate’s made good on his promise. I must say, he’s managed to—what is the American saying—hit the ball out of the park this time.”