As he measured her, his gaze warmed the consuming chill that had invaded her body. She glanced down, holding the material out. Nothing she could ever afford. Standing next to him in his stunning black suit, gave her more confidence than if she wore plain clothing.
“I wouldn’t have picked it out for myself, but you have good taste.”
“I know.” Trace’s gaze traveled down her torso, to her exposed toes and slowly up to her face. “And you take my breath away.” He kissed the inside of her wrist.
Heat shot up her inner arm overpowering any nervousness she may have felt earlier. She leaned into him and whispered, “You breathe?”
Trace half smiled. “Sometimes.”
She blinked. “Oh.” That meant sometimes he didn’t breathe either.
Trace stiffened, then glanced toward the entrance flanked with four massive columns. It took a moment before she heard footsteps in the foyer. Five men entered the parlor. All dressed similar to Trace, except their cold penetrating eyes made her worry. Scared was more like it. One man strode toward her, eyes narrowed, mouth pulled down in a frown. She swallowed, then took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. They will not get to me. I will be strong.
“He won’t hurt you. Will you, Dev?” Trace stepped forward and crossed his arms.
Dev smirked and stared through his long dark lashes. “Depends.”
An eerie rumble vibrated the room. Kira advanced toward Trace. The sound of a wild cat drifted in the air. She tilted her head, glanced at Trace and realized the noise came from him.
“Boys. Boys. Boys. Dev won’t touch her, but I might.” A slender brunette appeared out of thin air and stood directly in front of the other men. Oh hell.