"August…"
Manfred's seductive, devil-may-care gaze faltered the moment it clashed with August's suddenly cold and sinister eyes. Just as he was about to step closer, he halted.
"Have a drink with me."
August deliberately ignored the heat in the other man's eyes. With a trace of melancholy, he undid his suit jacket, tossed it carelessly onto the sofa, and walked to the bar cabinet. He took out two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of red wine. His movements were smooth, almost elegant, as he popped the cork and poured two shallow glasses. The deep crimson liquid shimmered beneath the glow of the crystal chandelier, casting a bewitching, intoxicating light through the clear glass.
"What's wrong?"
Manfred leaped onto the bar counter in one fluid motion. The apartment featured a private bar and wine rack—after all, both he and August had a taste for solitude, and alcohol was their chosen companion.
"Manfred, do you think it's wrong of me to use a woman to further my plans?"
