Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott Page A

— uh, we aren’t…” she trails off, looking very perplexed.
    “This is my roommate Maggie,” I interject, eager to dissipate the awkward tension.
    “ Je m’appelle Will, ça va ?” he says, holding out a hand for her to shake. She takes it gingerly, looking like she might actually melt into a puddle and drip through the floorboards at any second. She’s definitely not used to any kind of attention from cute boys, I can tell. Not that I’m particularly accustomed to it, either. But I still feel a pinch of wariness in regard to Will, after his forwardness earlier today. I hope he doesn’t hold it against me or try it again anytime soon. Although, I have to admit that he does look absolutely fantastic tonight. His flaxen-blond hair is brushed back, with a few pieces hanging artfully around his temples and forehead. His California-esque tan and bright blue eyes almost glow in the surreal neon lighting, and every time he brushes up against me I can feel his sculpted musculature.
    At his insistence, he buys us both cocktails with a name I cannot pronounce nor remember for the life of me. Whatever it is, it tastes like strawberries and sweet liqueur, with a slight fizz that tickles my nose when I take a sip. It’s delicious, and because I’m so nervous, I drink it much more quickly than I probably should.
    Maggie does the same, downing hers in record time before ordering a second one. Will leads us over to a group of beautiful girls and handsome men all dressed in the same hip, slightly ragged style of the crowd here at Zero Zero. Everyone is very accommodating and kind, enthusiastically inviting us into their circle without question. They mostly speak French to each other, with the occasional phrase of what sounds like possibly Russian being tossed around. At first it seems slightly off to hear Russian, but then I simply chalk it up to the fact that Paris is such a metropolitan, worldly place. There are people here from all over, mingling together. It’s no big deal. So I force myself to relax a little.
    Before long, Maggie is substantially liquored up and bantering loudly with a few guys in lilting French. I don’t know what she’s saying, but the way she’s leaning on them and twirling her hair suggests that they’re flirting. For a while, I manage to sneak her away from them by asking her to dance with me. The heady mix of unfamiliar territory, alcohol, and seductive music creates an intoxicating concoction, urging me a little further down the rabbit hole one drink and one dance at a time. Maggie holds her plastic cup above her head and spins slowly in front of me, her other hand grasping mine as we both giggle and sway to the music. I can feel myself getting slightly carried away, but Maggie is another story. She’s long gone, stumbling and laughing and blowing kisses to every guy who walks by.
    “What the hell did we drink?” she murmurs, giggling as she leans in close to me.
    “I don’t know, I don’t speak French,” I reply, shrugging. Maggie tilts her head back and wraps her arms around me, starting to lose her balance. However, she’s much taller than me and I am nowhere near equipped to hold her up, so we both start to fall backward. Just in time, Will slides in behind me and braces us both, pinning me between them in the process. In front of me is my new friend, her dark hair falling around her rosy cheeks and her eyes cloudy with intoxication. Behind me is the handsome, charming man who tried to kiss me today, his strong arms holding me in place. His hands slip down to grasp at my hips and roll me back against him.
    I realize, through the fog of alcohol muddying my thoughts, that I can feel his dick hard against my lower back, just above my ass. Will smoothly swipes my hair back over one shoulder, then bends down to gently brush his lips against my exposed neck. I shiver and close my eyes, not sure if I want to recoil or just embrace the moment.
    “We’re heading to the flat now,” says a