Chapter 4 My Devil Wore a Tom Ford Suit

Ava's POV

My handbag hit the marble floor with a dull, expensive thud. Everything inside me stopped for a moment. My heartbeat, breath, thoughts. They were all frozen.

The devil himself turned his head and the world tilted.

He was damn handsome in the way a blade is beautiful: sharp, clean, and lethal. High cheekbones, a jaw that looked like it was carved from stone, eyes the color of midnight right before a storm. The top two buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing the edge of that same dragon tattoo that had writhed over his chest last night while he ruined me.

But right now he looked... calm and civilized. A perfect CEO sipping coffee in broad daylight except I knew what those hands could do. I knew how that mouth tasted when it wasn't smiling politely. I knew the exact sound he made when he came inside me.

My knees almost gave out at that spot.

He ended the call, slipped the phone into his pocket, and stood up, slow and deliberate. Every inch of him was radiating control. The closer he got, the more the air thickened with cedar, smoke, and something darker that made my stomach flip the same way it had when he'd pinned my wrists above my head in the club.

He bent, picked up my bag like it weighed nothing, and stepped closer to me. Damn!! It was too close.

His chest brushed the front of my dress. Heat rolled off him. I caught the faint scent of last night still clinging to his skin: sex and whiskey and me.

His lips brushed my ear. "You look like you've seen a ghost, princess."

That voice. I could taste it. Gravel and smoke and pure sin. My pulse exploded in my throat.

He slid the strap of my bag up my arm, his fingers deliberately were slow, knuckles brushing the inside of my forearm. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like he'd flipped a switch. I sucked in a breath that sounded too loud in the quiet lounge.

He stepped back, gestured to the velvet sofa. "Please. Have a sit."

I couldn't move. It seemed my legs had forgotten how.

He sat first, with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, arm stretched along the back of the sofa like a king waiting for tribute. Those dark eyes never left mine.

"Hi," he said in a smooth and gentle voice. "I'm Julian... Julian Hong-Knight, the CEO of HK Group. Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure." The word rolled off his tongue the same way he'd growled it last night when he'd had me bent over, screaming and crying in pleasure and raw intensity.

My mouth opened but my words were no where to be found. Nothing came out except a shaky, "Do you... do you recognize me?"

He tilted his head, lifting a brow. "What?"

"Last night," I whispered. The words scraped out raw from my mouth. "Where were you last night?"

His gaze sharpened. Something I couldn't recognize flickered behind those eyes. He set his coffee down, stood up, and closed the distance again.

"Why don't we talk somewhere else?" he said quietly. "How about my office? You don't seem to be at ease."

Wow!! What a gentleman. He seemed to noticed my atmosphere but I don't know if he noticed that he is the cause.

He didn't even wait for me to agree. He just turned and walked away, expecting me to follow.

And God so help me, I did.

My heels clicked too fast across the marble as I chased the broad line of his back. People glanced up: employees, security, a woman with a clipboard who looked like she wanted to ask if I needed help. I obviously looked insane. That's for sure: My face was pale, lipstick half gone, and eyes wide like I'd seen the devil.

I had.

The private elevator doors slid open the second he approached it. He stepped inside, held the door with one hand, and looked back at me.

"Coming?"

I stepped in. The doors closed. For a moment, there was silence. Just the soft hum of the lift and the heat pouring off his body. He didn't look at me, just stared straight ahead, jaw tight, and one hand buried inside his pocket. I could feel his pulse from here. It was calm, steady, and controlled.

Mine was a hummingbird trapped under my ribs.

Twenty-third floor, the doors opened directly into his office. Dark wood, leather, the scent of whiskey filled the air. He walked to the bar, poured himself a glass and took a slow sip without offering me one. I wouldn't even be able to drink if he did offer me.

I stood in the middle of the room, clutching my bag like a shield.

He turned, leaned back against the window, sunlight cutting across his face and making the dragon tattoo peek above his collar again.

"Ask your question," he said simply.

"Do you know who I am? Have we meet before?" My voice cracked.

He took another sip. "Should I?"

"You-" I swallowed hard. "You.... I..." I started stuttering out of nowhere.

The glass paused halfway to his lips. Then he smiled in the most dangerous way ever.

He set the glass down, pushed off the window, and walked toward me. I started sensing something deadly with each step. He finally stopped as soon as the tips of his shoes touched mine and I had to crane my neck to hold his stare.

"You were saying?" He asked, his voice low and lethal. I could literally feel his breath on my face.

"You're.... Last night, you are the- "

"Devil who ruined you last night." He whispered gently, his lips brushing my ear and he lowered his head to meet my face to say the words that I couldn't say.

"Holy.... shit!" It was then I realized that I'd just walked into a trap, one that I won't be getting out from anytime soon.