Turning, I grab his glass and down the rest of the drink. I don’t even focus on the taste, letting my tongue swipe across my lips to grab a stray drop. I can feel another gaze on me and when I tilt my head, I find Giovanni watching me. He’s paused whatever conversation he was having with Lorenzo.
He’s challenging me to hold his gaze. Instead, I turn back to the man beside me. He’s grinning and I can’t help but to think that he reminds me a bit of a fox. Red and cunning.
“Where to?” I ask him and I can already feel a buzz in my veins. It thrums and burns with an energy that begs me to be reckless, no matter how bad I know this thing is going to end.
“Follow me, little one,” he says, his lips tilting up at the corners. He turns around and despite how tall he is, he keeps his steps short so I can follow him closely.
I don’t turn around to look at Giovanni, but my steps falter a bit when I find Enzo watching me from a couple of feet away. I catch myself before I can completely fall. His eyes burn into mine and I’m thinking he’s going to stop me, but he keeps his distance, not approaching.
Well then, I know where that puts him.
Maximo didn’t give him the order to get me so he’s not going to, that’s all he cares about, after all. Pleasing Maximo.
Nobody cares about me.
But Maximo had nothing to do with him fucking you after the shootout.
Warm fingers brush against mine and I turn my head to find the guy looking at me. Fuck, I didn’t even get his name. And why does he look so damn familiar? “You sure you want to do this? You seem a bit preoccupied.” He sounds far too entertained for my liking and it only pushes my instinct to go through with this.
“I’m fine, let’s go.”
I haven’t felt anything lately, but I’m determined to feel this.
He opens a door, gesturing for me to go through and it's only then that I think this could be a set up. There could be more men waiting in the hallway from me. Nausea rises, but it quickly falls when the hallway is empty.
“Down this way,” the man says and he points to the right before moving in front of me.
I follow him, my steps a little shaky. I don’t know if it's from nerves or the alcohol.
The man stops outside a door, turning the knob. The door flies open and he steps inside, tuning a light on. Before I step inside, I take in the room. It looks like it’s a janitor’s closet, brooms and cleaning supplies scattered throughout the small room.
Cluttered.
I swallow, but I’ve gotten myself into this mess and I’m going to see my way through it.
The door closes behind me and I move over to one of the walls, pressing my back up against it as I look up at the redhead. He keeps a foot of space between us, which is surprising. I expected him to jump on me as soon as we made it inside.
He continues to study me before blowing out a breath. “I’m not a good guy, darling, you want out of this, you’re going to have to tell me.” His voice drops an octave and a shiver runs down my spine.
Is this what I really want?
No, but it's what I need.
“I want this,” I tell him. And since I’m tired of waiting on him, I reach forward, wrapping my hand in his shirt and pulling him closer. He allows me to, the man big enough to stop me if he wanted to.
He looks down at my hand and lets out a little laugh. “Well then,” he mutters. He presses his body right up against mine, the musky scent of his cologne invading my senses. He places a hand above my head and lowers his mouth toward mine.
I close my eyes in anticipation, and so I can’t focus on who it is I’m about to kiss.
Not that I fucking know his name or who the hell he actually is.
But none of that is important right now.
His breath is minty as it brushes over my lips and pin pricks dance along my skin.
“Frances, we’re friends, but if you don’t get your fucking hands off of her right now, I’ll remove them myself.”
I blink my eyes open at the familiar voice.