Julius didn't waste even a second.
He saw that cold, killer look locked on Devon's face, the kind that said he was ready to snap necks and jumped right in. He leaned back on the leather couch, smirking wide, whiskey glass in hand.
"You mean the attempt on your life? Hell no, man! Of course it wasn't me. Why you staring like you wanna rip my throat out? You can't do that, right?"
He burst out laughing, a big, booming belly laugh that rolled over the wild moans and wet skin slaps from the VIP orgy all around them.
His eyes twinkled with real amusement, like Devon accusing him was the funniest shit he'd heard all night.
Devon's face didn't crack. Not a smile, not a twitch. Just pure ice, gray eyes boring into Julius like drills. He leaned forward a bit, voice coming out low and sharp. "But you're aware of the attempt?" It wasn't a question, it was a demand, cutting clean through the nearby screams of "Fuck me harder!" from some chick getting her ass double-stuffed.
