Deceive (Book 1 in the Deceive series) by Karessa Mann

Deceive - Book 1
    “ I ordered a Pinot Noir ,” I say coolly to the guy leering at me from behind the bar.
    He huffs lightly as he flips a white towel over the shoulder of his black uniformed shirt. The word Knight is written in bold metallic stitching on his left breast pocket. Strong forearms flex as his hands press flat against the glossy top of the mahogany counter, not a drop of amusement anywhere on his face.
    “No, Sweetheart,” he chides, his eyes slithering from my lips to my covered breasts. An arrogance creeps across his face. “You ordered a Merlot .”
    My eyes narrow as I hold his gaze. He’s not the first man to talk down to me because he thinks I’m younger than I really am. If I had to guess, I’d say this guy is in his mid-twenties. That makes me a good three to four years older than him, even though he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for the rest of my sorority to show up. He might be attractive if he wiped that smug expression off his face.
    “What’s your name?” I ask.
    His eyes are glued to my chest, but a sly smile brushes over his lips when he answers, “Trevor.”
    With the tip of my plum polished finger I push my glass his way and say through gritted teeth, “Well, Trevor , maybe you heard me incorrectly because it’s not my tits that are speaking.”
    He’s unfazed that I caught him staring. I think he actually liked it, but a small piece of his ego deflates at my words. He knows I won’t take the bait. He leans forward and a thick stench of cologne stings my nose as he says, “Are you implying I don’t know how to do my job?”
    I am about to answer him in a way that will clear up any confusion about what I think of him when I hear a voice behind me snap, “Get the lady a Pinot.”
    The bartender’s eyes flash with fury and I turn to see a man towering over me, his body close enough to pin me to the edge of the bar.
    “And I’ll take a dirty martini,” he adds, looking over my head to the cocky boy behind the counter.
    I cross my arms over my chest, forcing some space between me and this stranger. What is it about a woman alone in a bar that brings out the chauvinism in men?
    “I was handling him just fine myself.”
    He peers down at me for the first time and I am uncharacteristically flustered as I catch sight of the most incredibly deep set indigo eyes. They are intense and brilliantly blue, but that’s not what has me rattled. It’s the sincerity in those eyes.
    His jet black hair falls off his forehead in short, thick waves and I have to hold myself back from reaching up and touching it. A rush of electricity shoots through me, from my throat to the soft spot between my thighs.
    The moment is short lived when his lips part and he says through a teasing grin, “Yes, I can see that.”
    My glare is back just as the bartender sets down a full glass. “Here you are, Ma’am. Your Pinot. It’s on the house due to my misunderstanding.”
    I would have thanked him for his offer if it weren’t for the thick venom in his voice. Without a response, I take my glass and slide past Mr. Chivalry and walk confidently back to my seat near the entrance of the bar, which is close to the lobby. I wonder how differently I would be treated if I were wearing my typical business attire with my hair swept up respectfully, instead of my long dark waves trailing loosely down my back while I sport jeans and a fitted sweater.
    I pick up the book I’ve been pretending to read and take a sip of wine, thankful that ass Trevor got it right this time.
    I chose this spot precisely so I could people watch, although a Tuesday night doesn’t appear to be prime time for large crowds, even in downtown Seattle.
    The Knight Hotel was once a place of luxury and it still holds a prestigious title, although it’s generally more known to those of the Baby Boomer era. Forty-one stories that overlook the Puget Sound with a roof top restaurant and a world photographed bar in which I now sit. The Knight