Re: VIP Area
Wren had caught the comment about being out of his league as she approached, and she gave the man who made the comment a smile that was warmth and appreciation at the sentiment, which resulted in a good-natured invitation that she come drink with him instead of Luke. She ignored the invitation, laughing it off with easy seduction that didn't offend, and she spared a second for the woman with the fruity drink and her appraisal. "I wouldn't," she told the woman, her smile still warm enough to be friendly, but a warning there nonetheless. Normally, recently, she would have worried that Luke wanted the woman's attentions, but not drunk, and not with all the cares of the world left somewhere in a bottle and some nice, soothing anxiety pills along the line. What resulted was a smile up at Luke, one that bordered on challenging, but with enough warmth to speak of something more than a casual interest in him.
"Why don't you tell me what you're looking for?" she suggested, and instead of taking a step back to allow him to jump down, she moved closer to the table, hands braced on the flat surface near his feet and diamonds twinkling at her wrists. She tipped her head back, back, and she looked up at him with a smile that said she expected him to slink back down to the ground without granting her request. There was challenge there, in her blood-red lips, and in the way her mouth tipped in a seductive smile. The neckline of the dress was indecent from where he was standing, definitely not meant to be looked down at, and she was perfectly aware of it.
There were things lurking in the back of her mind, too. Possessive things, angry things, scared things, and they were all there in her expression, in the way she watched him. "I'm looking for someone to sweep me off my feet," she finally said, though there was more to it than that. The men around them didn't know that, though, and they immediately clamored and offered, which made the woman with the fruity drink hopeful all over again. Somewhere a camera flashed, but Wren was too accustomed to the blink of flashbulbs to even noticed. Instead, she set aside her champagne flute and reached up for what remained of his bottle, fingers brushing against his hand as she took it from him.
She downed it a second later, intentionally allowing a small bit of amber liquid to trickle down her neck and along the pale line of her cleavage.