My eyes widened, and I swallowed, trying to get my brain to work.

Fox made a sound in the back of his throat, tightening his fingers. He glared, looking ready to murder me. “Who are you?”

When I didn’t respond, he swiped his face with his other hand. His forehead furrowed while his expression turned pissed and stormy. “You think I didn’t see you watching? You had your eyes all over me. Answer me. Who the fuck are you?” His deep, accented voice stiffened my nipples even as the thrill of fear jolted through me.

My temper gave me false courage. “I’m not in the habit of answering such rude questions.”

His jaw clenched; fingers bit deeper into my arm.

All I could think was: run. His eyes looked almost white. His face sheened with sweat, and the small smear of blood from his nose smelled metallic. The scar on his cheek screamed that he wasn’t a nice man. This was a man who lived with no rules or laws. This was a man to fear.

“I’m not in the habit of touching women, and yet, I am.” He shook me to emphasize his point. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you and where did you come from?”

I couldn’t move as he leaned closer, eyes delving deep, deeper than anyone had gone. I felt exposed, defenceless, and completely trapped.

Raising my jaw, I glared. “Let me go.”

Shaking his head, sending strands of bronze everywhere, he demanded, “What are you doing so close to the rings? Girls are meant to be either flat on their fucking backs in the private rooms, or mingling in the crowd.” Fox’s eyes left mine to trail down my body. “Unless you’re not an employee but a spy. My patience is on a very thin leash; I suggest you answer my question.”

Every fear and hardship in my life seemed inconsequential as he jerked me closer. His body heat filled me with need and loathing. This wasn’t a man. This was a stone-cold killer.

Twisting my arm, I rolled my shoulder to force his hand to drop. Problem was he followed the motion and his fingers unlatched only to retighten once I’d given up fighting. The effortless way he kept me prisoner sent my heart whizzing around my chest. I hated my betraying body for acting more alive than I’d ever felt. I hated the challenge he presented. But most of all I hated the intrigue, the puzzle.

“I’m not a spy. What are you James Bond? Get your hands off me. I’m done being interrogated.”

“Not until you tell me how you got into my club. What is it about you?”

“There’s nothing about me.”

“You’re lying. There’s something different.” His attention turned inward for a brief second. “You make me feel—” Cutting himself off, he glowered. He smelled of earth and smoke and power with a trace of chocolate. His hand was hot and tight on my arm—deadly. “I’ve never seen you before, and I don’t like strangers. I’ll ask one more time. Who the fuck are you, and why am I drawn to you?”

My heart skidded to a stop. He’s drawn to me?

He felt it, too. The strange compulsion, the unknown need. Maybe it was purely lust—two bodies who recognised a person with similar wants and urges. If it was, I’d never been affected so violently.

Everything I’d felt while watching him fight bubbled to the surface. He’d hurt with no remorse. He’d acted as if shattering a guy’s kneecap was nothing. How could I let some stupid chemistry in my body override my self-preservation?

I curled my hand, ready to punch him and run, but I paused.

He made me feel alive.

He made me feel like a woman and not a mother or friend or failure.

He made me feel powerful and submissive all at the same time.

I felt as if I’d lived my life in a haze. Trudging through day to day, always putting other’s needs before my own. For the first time, my own needs made a very strong appearance, and I embraced the awareness, the connection, the simple infatuation by a total stranger.

But then responsibilities bulldozed the fleeting attraction away.

Clara.

Destitution.

Ruin.

How could you let yourself be consumed by him when you shouldn’t even be here?

I no longer hated him. I hated myself for being so weak—he’d made me forget for the briefest of time.

Freezing, I looked directly into his eyes, ignoring the snarl in my stomach. “You’re mistaken. You’re not drawn to me. You’ve never seen me, and I’m leaving so you’ll never have to see me again. Let go of me.”

His eyes rested on my lips; his face hardened, blocking off the interest I’d seen before. “I’m never mistaken.” He unclenched his hand. Pins and needles rushed to the spot where he’d gripped me. “And I never settle until I figure out what I don’t understand.”

My heart lurched. He’s the same. He had the same need to understand. To figure out the unknown before the unknown could hurt him.

“Go away before I regret letting you leave,” he muttered. With fists clenched by his sides, he looked over my shoulder as if searching for a way to run. Gone was his dominating air, replaced with heavy acceptance. Without his potent gaze on me, I scrutinised him.

I didn’t like what I saw. Something heavy lived inside—something squeezed until he trembled with more than just anger. He used the scar as a deterrent, but behind all that lived something else. Something darker, something…sad.

My heart thudded, sending a flood of compassion into my veins.

Oh, no you don’t.

Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and forced all interest and empathy to die a quick death. I couldn’t afford to suffer such idiocy. I was searching for reasons behind his surly attitude, seeing a heavy penance in his scar. You can’t get swept up in the need to help, protect, and listen.

Dragging hands through his longish hair, Fox glared. “I let you go. Why haven’t you left yet?” The faint foreign accent lurked behind a cultured Australian voice. He may have studied hard to sound like a local, but he couldn’t hide his roots completely. Just like he couldn’t tame the wildness in him—the savageness beneath the cool façade.

He didn’t belong here. He belonged in the wilderness, hunting in the dawn, just like his namesake, the fox.

It was my turn to suffer unavoidable curiosity. “Who are you?” I tried to relax, reminding myself he couldn’t harm me, not with so many witnesses. “You trap me and demand answers to your questions, but it works both ways. You want to know something about me?” Twisting to point behind me, I said, “I’m here with a friend. We were invited by Corkscrew and he’s an expert Muay Thai fighter. I didn’t want to come here. I hate what I’m wearing, and you drive me crazy because I can’t read you. You’re dangerous, and I think you have some serious issues.”

Fox pierced me with white-grey eyes. “You’re right to think I’m dangerous.” Ignoring my other comments, he muttered, “Finally, I have a reason to get him in the ring. He can’t flaunt the rules and invite whoever he damn well pleases.” A hard smile stretched his lips.

My skin prickled at the thought of Fox fighting Corkscrew. I liked Ben. He was kind and looked at Clue as if she were a precious gem. There was no way I wanted this lunatic hurting him.

“Stay away from—”

“Everything okay here?” I jumped as a man solidified beside me, appearing from the thinning crowd. He flicked me a curious glance before looking at Fox. “What did I overhear? An excuse to get who in the ring?”

Fox stopped smiling. “Corkscrew invited people without paying for their admittance. I have my reason.” He cracked his knuckles, looking determined and not a little scary.

The blond haired man shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. One fight is enough. Bugger off. Let me run the floor for the rest of the night.”

The air crackled as Fox pierced the new man with a look. In one second Fox asserted authority and in another dismissed it. “Fine. Take over. I’m done being around people for the evening.” His grey eyes landed on mine, letting me know he truly meant me.

“Good choice.” The newcomer frowned, pushing long blond hair from his eyes. He looked as if he should be in an ocean with a surfboard and not an illegal club. “Who are you?” He assessed me, pursing his lips. “I thought all girls had to wear a uniform, so their services weren’t confused?”

Girls? Shit, is that what the waitresses were? Prostitutes?

My hackles rose. My frayed nerves reached snapping point, and I lost all decorum. “Stop asking who the hell I am. I’m done being manhandled, cursed at, and being mistaken for a whore. I’ve had enough.” I pushed past the blond guy only for him to lasso a hand around my upper arm.

Eyeing my breasts, he added, “If you don’t want to be mistaken for a whore maybe you shouldn’t wear such a slutty dress.” He dropped his head, breathing me in. “I can particularly see your nipples, and I know you’re hot for my boss. You can’t hide the flush, princess. You’re wasting your fucking time. He’s onto women like you.”

“Fuck you.” I raised my hand to slap his cheek, but Fox beat me to it. His fist landed on the man’s jaw. Oscar dropped his grip, and I stumbled backward.

“She’s not a whore, and I’ll say if she’s wasting her fucking time, Oscar. Goddammit, you’re pissing me off tonight.”

Oscar rubbed his chin, blue eyes sparking with anger. “You’re a son of a bitch.”

Fox rippled with rage. “Go back to work.”

“I am working—I’m keeping you from killing someone.”

I laughed once at the madness of this place. Seemed everyone was infected with whatever disease lived within these huge black walls. “Oh, my God, you’re all crazy. I’m leaving.” I spun around and took one angry step before strong fingers latched around my wrist. My heart raced as once again electricity shot from his touch all the way to my traitorous core. Everything about him drew me and repelled me at the same time.