Forbidden Surrender Read Online Free Page A

serendipitous as this encounter was, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of approaching Vincent in this strange social situation. If Richard had been right about the meeting going well, talking to Vincent could sabotage our efforts rather than help.
    “Let’s just watch them a little first.”
    We witnessed the burly guy down his shot, slam his glass against the counter, and grunt something in Afrikaans. I couldn’t understand it, but if I had to guess by the tone, it meant “Is that the best you got?” He then reached into a nearby bag sitting on the counter and produced a large clear jar. I squinted my eyes to identify the contents. Thin strands, black dots scurrying.
    Cobwebs and spiders.
    The crowd didn’t seem surprised, instead they clamored approval like they were at a sporting event. Why would he have such a thing? And here of all places. I hate spiders.
    My disgust and surprise must have been palpable because Vincent turned his head in my direction as if attuned to my specific frequency. For the second time today, we locked eyes. A part of me wanted to hide from the embarrassment of this morning, another part of me knew my company had important business to conduct with him.
    Before I decided whether I was going to wave at him or shrink behind the crowd of bodies, a ghost of a smile touched his lips.
    He waved me over. In disbelief, I pointed my finger at my chest as I mouthed “me?” and he nodded. What did he want with me? I looked to Riley for advice and was met with eager shooing motions. Sensing an opportunity to clear up any confusion over this morning’s meeting, I worked my way through the crowd to him. The women around him were reluctant to make room, shooting me catty-glares, but I managed to wiggle through an opening.
    “Hello Kristen,” he said.
    He did remember my name. “Hello Mr. Sorenson.”
    “Please, just call me Vincent. I didn’t expect to see you here, but now that you are, this’ll be a lot more interesting.” He grinned.
    I wasn’t sure what he meant. Confused by the whole situation, I asked, “What are you doing here, Vincent?”
    “Business. And you’re going to decide if you want to help me.” He gestured to the big guy and his bizarre pet spiders.
    Okay . . . that doesn’t explain a whole lot.
    “I should tell you, Mr. Sorenson. I have a fear of spiders,” I said, eyeing the jar.
    He leaned close to my ear so I could hear him. “All the better. You asked for my money earlier today, Kristen.” His smoky voice was implacable. “I wasn’t impressed. Here’s your second chance to convince me to trust you with my assets.”
    Shit. We did blow the meeting this morning. I gulped. “What do you want me to do?”
    As if to answer my question, the hulk uncapped the jar and picked out a spider with a pair of chopsticks.
    The sight of the tiny black creature outside its confines made me panic. I tried to escape but Vincent caught my elbow in a light but secure grip and pulled me to him. “You’re fine, trust me. Just watch.”
    With his hand on the filled shot glass, the big guy placed the spider on the skin between his thumb and forefinger. The spider—whose backside displayed a red dot—remained surprisingly still, perhaps in as much suspense as I was. Never taking his eyes off the poisonous creature, the big guy slowly brought the drink to his lips, keeping his hand steady, and in one smooth motion downed the contents, flicked the spider off his hand, and crushed the arachnid as he slammed his glass on the bar. The crowd erupted in cheers.
    The big guy looked expectantly at me and Vincent. His steely eyes said “your turn”.
    “You’re not seriously going to do that are you?” I blurted without thinking.
    His eyes narrowed as he smiled. “I am. And you’re going to help me by putting the spider on my hand.”
    I was about to say “hell no” but thought better when I noticed his probing eyes. “I’m really not comfortable with this.”
    “Consider it a