breathing was hard as she came forward. And not only his breathing.
But the brunette barely looked at him. Instead, she turned accusingly to the blonde girl at the table.
“All right. Let’s go.”
The girl, who suddenly looked defiant as a teenager, snapped, “You’re not the boss of me, Ruby!”
Ruby. A beautiful fairy-tale name for a woman who looked like a brazen princess who could tempt any man into eating a poison apple. Ares didn’t mind her possessiveness, not in this case. It was all he could do not to push the other girl out of the chair himself. But he forced himself to say courteously to the blonde, “Yes, you need to go. I’ll be glad to buy your drinks for the night, but—”
“Drinks?” Ruby turned her angry glare on him. Ares felt the same jolt, the one that left him electrified and breathless. “My little sister is underage, Mr. Kourakis. How dare you offer her alcohol?”
“Your sister? Underage?” Frowning, Ares looked at the blonde girl, then back at the goddess. She stood over the table in a fury, taking quick breaths. Understanding dawned. “Is that why you came up here?”
Ruby scowled. “Believe me, I’m doing you a favor, Mr. Kourakis. Ivy had this fantastic idea of seducing you and getting knocked up so you’d marry her.”
Ares’s jaw dropped; not at the plan, but at the honesty.
“Shut up!” the girl yelled. “You’re ruining everything!”
“She wanted to marry a billionaire. Any billionaire would do.” Looking at him, Ruby tilted her head, her expression almost contemptuous. “Please excuse her for being stupid. She’s only nineteen.”
The look she gave him spoke louder than words: What kind of man your age would date a teenager?
She made him feel ancient, at the age of thirty-six.
“I hate you!” the blonde cried.
She turned sharply to her sister. “Ivy, go home. Before I have Alonzo toss you out so hard, you bounce on the sidewalk.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” But looking at her, Ivy’s defiance fled. “Fine!” Rising to her feet, she stomped away.
“And don’t even think about telling Mom what you tried to do!” Ruby yelled after her. She glanced back at Ares, humor curving her deliciously full lips. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Kourakis. Have a good night.”
As she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist.
Her skin was soft and caused heat to flood through his body. He heard her intake of breath when he touched her.
Ares looked up at her. “Wait.”
“What do you want?”
“Have a drink with me.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Then what are you doing at a bar?”
“Working. I’m a bartender.”
She worked for a living? He looked at her capable hands. “Take a few minutes. Your boss will understand.”
Her frank dark gaze locked with his. “No.”
Ares frowned. “Are you upset because I was talking to your sister? I was never interested in her.”
“Good.” She pulled her wrist from his grasp. “Please excuse me.”
“Wait. Your name is Ruby? Ruby what?”
Glancing back, she gave a low laugh that he felt all the way to his toes. “There’s no point in telling you.”
“But you know my last name.”
“Against my will. Everyone is talking about you. Apparently you’re quite a catch.” Her voice was sardonic.
Ares had never been brushed off so thoroughly by any woman. He tried to understand. “You are married?”
“No.”
“Engaged?”
“I’m working.” She enunciated the word as if she thought maybe he’d never heard it before. “And the waitstaff will be needing their drink orders.”
Ares stared at her. “You would truly rather work than have a drink with me?”
“If I’m not pouring drinks, it hurts everyone’s tips. Which hurts everyone’s ability to pay rent. Not everyone,” she added sweetly, “owns a thirty-million-dollar house bought with cash.”
So she’d noticed his house. Even the price. Encouraged, he stretched out his arm suggestively along the top of the seat next to his. “Most other women would quit their jobs on the spot to spend an evening with me—”
“So have a drink with one of them,” she said, and walked down the steps without looking back.
Ares sat for several moments in stunned silence, alone at the VIP table. He dimly heard the thumping music. He barely noticed as women in tight dresses and stilettos continued to parade below the platform, dancing provocatively for his benefit. He glanced over at Georgios. His bodyguard rolled his eyes. Exactly what Ares was thinking, too. Same music. Same club. Same people.
With one exception.
Who was this Ruby, and why could he suddenly not imagine any outcome tonight that didn’t end with her in his bed?
Rising to his feet, Ares told Georgios, “You can go.”
His bodyguard brightened. He was probably thinking of calling his wife back in New York, who was no doubt up late with their new baby. “Should I leave the car?”
“I’ll find a ride home. But tell the pilot I want to leave first thing in the morning.”
“Of course. Good night, Mr. Kourakis.”
Turning, Ares stalked through the nightclub. Dance music pounded in waves, colored lights blurring in the dark, sultry heat as crowds of people parted for him like magic. Men looked at him with envy, women with desire. But he had only one object. One goal.
When he reached the bar, a free chair immediately appeared for him, as such things always did. He slid into it as his due.
Ruby looked up from where she was pouring drinks behind the bar. Her lips parted in surprise, then annoyance. “What are you—”
“Tell me your last name.”
“It’s Prescott,” a waitress said nearby. At her glare, the girl continued in a squeak, “Ruby Prescott.”
At last they were getting somewhere. Tilting his head, Ares said, “Nice name.”
“I don’t think you can criticize,” she snapped. “What kind of parents would name their child after the Greek god of war?”
