SHOW ME LOVE

002: Show Me Some Love, Baby

**Jordan Hayes**

It took a full minute to remember breathing was something people were supposed to do.

I stood frozen, mouth parted in shock, staring into those piercing dark eyes—ones I'd vowed never to look at again. Their burning intensity sent a shiver racing down my spine, my throat tightening until swallowing felt impossible.

Damien Voss, the boss and leader of New York's most notorious Italian mafia family, was right here in the bathroom stall with me, gazing down with a dangerous grin. My heart skipped, mind blanking. Why the hell was he in Great Fisher—my workplace?

As the police chief's son, what would people think if they saw me in the same room as the leader of the organization my father was working to take down?

I'd tried it once—hooked up with this same man just to spite my father for disowning me because I was gay. But later, I realized it was pointless. Reckless. Dangerous. I'd sworn never to do it again.

The thought of Damien discovering I was Jeon Russell's son—his sworn enemy—sent fresh chills through me. He'd definitely kill me.

"We meet again," Damien smirked. His towering frame stepped forward, forcing me back in fright. He didn't stop there.

A familiar prick of ice crept through my veins, goosebumps rising on my forearms.

My lips twisted into a forced smile. "I guess we did."

I swallowed hard, fists clenched at my sides, backing up until my spine hit the wall.

Damien stopped advancing, eyes flickering with amusement as he smirked down at me. Then he strode to the sink and silently rinsed his hands.

Different questions flooded my mind. Why was he here? Had he realized who I was? Was he here to kill me? But why wait over a year?

"You know," he said casually, "I never took this bar for the type that harbors sluts."

His words caught me off guard; my head snapped up in surprise.

Forgotten that I was supposed to be terrified, I arched a brow. "What the fuck do you mean?"

Did this bastard just call me a slut? Hello? Had he forgotten I paid him fifty bucks for a one-night stand? Who was supposed to be the slut here?

Damien turned off the faucet, dried his hands with a napkin, and faced me. His gaze swept over my damp shirt—now clinging like a second skin, outlining my chest and making my nipples visible through the transparent fabric. A flush burned my cheeks.

"Dressing like that," he said, gesturing vaguely, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"Bastard," I muttered under my breath.

Damien might be dangerous, but how could I forget he was also a complete douchebag?

"Fuck you," I scoffed, pinning him with a glare.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. "Talk dirty to me."

"Asshole," I muttered, turning away. Staying in here with him was pointless.

I made a beeline for the door, gripped the knob, and yanked it open—only to halt. The creep from earlier leaned against the opposite wall, a dangerous smile spreading across his ugly face.

"Fucking hell!" I gasped, eyes widening as he peeled off the wall and sauntered toward me.

"There you are," he drawled. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come out."

I rushed back into the bathroom, trying to slam the door, but he jammed his hand inside, forcing it open and yanking me back in shock.

"Don't you dare shut me out again," he barked.

"Fuck!" I panted, chest heaving, taking a few steps backward. What had I done to make this thug want to molest me so badly? He wasn't even gay. I was appalled by straight men who took pleasure in assaulting gay guys. Their behavior was utterly despicable. I hated it.

"What's going on here?" a low, menacing voice demanded from behind me.

Hot breath danced across the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

The creep's face paled, eyes twitching nervously. "Mr. Voss?"

"Don't make me ask again. What the fuck is going on?" Damien growled. His voice echoed through the room, sending another shiver through me.

This wasn't how I'd envisioned things turning out. My gaze lingered on the trembling creep. He was terrified of Damien—and I realized I could leverage this.

If Damien didn't help stop this harassment, those bastards wouldn't quit, and I might end up committing murder—which wouldn't look good on my father's record.

I turned, forcing a smile. "Ahh, babe!"

"Are you done, babe?" I asked, linking my arm with Damien's. His 6'5" frame towered over me, making me feel small—like a damn chick beside him. I fucking hated it.

My heart hammered fast and hard.

"Can you please act like my boyfriend for just five minutes?" I whispered, eyes pleading.

If he didn't help, those creeps wouldn't stop—and I might do something stupid.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Damien asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I nodded hastily, unsure if he'd follow through, but clinging to hope. He was a douchebag, after all.

Damien gently pulled his arm free. Hope shattered into pieces. He wasn't going to help. What had I expected?

I turned to leave—but he wrapped an arm around my waist, yanking me back against his rock-hard chest. My eyes widened as his lips curved into a sly smile, gaze locked on mine.

"Are you really going to leave your boyfriend all alone?" he asked, smirking.

He cupped my cheek, warm palm sending shivers down my spine.

"Show me some love, baby," he whispered, breath tickling my skin as he leaned in, lips brushing gently against mine.