The bar was already packed when they got there. There was no formal aspect to the fund raiser. It was just that the charity was getting a percentage of the ticket sales—so, really, she didn’t think she had to be there. But she couldn’t not.
Yeah, the place was an instant success. Lorenzo had the Midas touch, didn’t he? Knew the investments to pick, always had his finger on the new big thing.
Sophy let Rosanna lead the way to the bar, she had a way about her that parted crowds. They ordered—classic cocktails—and waited for them to be mixed. Rosanna flipped so her back was against the bar and surveyed the room. ‘Looks good.’
Sophy nodded, trying not to look anywhere. She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to have to admit she had no date.
‘Oh, my.’ Rosanna sighed, fanning herself.
‘What?’
‘I just saw Lorenzo.’
‘Oh.’
Rosanna spun back and leaned into Sophy. ‘I just saw the way he was looking at you.’
‘Oh?’ Sophy’s skin felt as if it were about to blister.
‘Kitten you are going to be gobbled. One bite.’ Rosanna laughed. ‘Lucky kitty.’
‘The jet lag is getting to you,’ Sophy muttered, lifting the glass to her lips.
‘Going to introduce me to your date, Sophy?’
She gulped, the liquid burning. Oh, there he was. Right behind her. She turned. In the crush of bodies at the bar he was too close.
‘Of course.’ She summoned some social skills. ‘This is my very special friend Rosanna. Rosanna, this is Lorenzo.’
‘Pleasure.’ Lorenzo was purring like the cat who’d not just got the cream, but the bird too. ‘Vance wanted to meet you too. He’s my co-owner and manager of the bar.’
Lorenzo moved slightly closer to Sophy so the man behind him could be seen. Sophy felt Rosanna stiffen.
‘Hi, Vance.’ Sophy smiled, breaking the short silence.
But the newcomer wasn’t looking at her. He was staring—hard—at Rosanna. And she was positively glaring back. They were squaring off like ancient enemies.
‘Aren’t you too old to still be dressing like a skate board punk?’ Rosanna was all snark.
‘Aren’t you too old to still have an eating disorder?’ Vance answered ten degrees too coolly.
Sophy’s jaw hit the floor. Rosanna was sleek, utterly sleek and stylish. But she wasn’t sick. At least, Sophy didn’t think so. And this guy so wasn’t her type—she liked them with as much style as her own. Sophisticated style, not street wear. Although Vance had his strengths, to be sure.
‘Do you two know each other already?’ Sophy asked, despite the obviousness of the answer. It wasn’t normal to be trading insults so soon in an acquaintance.
Rosanna didn’t even glance at her. ‘We met a few years ago.’
‘Come and dance, Sophy.’ Lorenzo grabbed her hand in a death grip, took the glass from her other and ditched it on the bar, marching her away despite her protests.
‘Hey, I’d hardly had any of that.’
‘I’ll get you another later.’
She pulled to slow him, twisted back to catch another glimpse of Rosanna. ‘Do you think they’re okay? They look like they might kill each other.’
‘I think they’ll be okay. She’s all grown-up.’
Sophy really wasn’t so sure. She tugged her arm again. ‘She’s not as tough as she makes out.’
Lorenzo laughed, the glint in his eyes too dangerous for comfort. ‘She’ll be fine. Forget about it.’
Well, she wasn’t going to do that. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Just give them five minutes.’ He looked at her, the darkness in him piercing now. ‘Or is it that you don’t want to dance with me?’
She went cool, despite the thudding in her heart. ‘I like dancing.’
‘Right.’
The music was loud—if they were to hear each other they’d have to lean close. Sophy opted for silence. But he was too close anyway, moving closer. And she couldn’t cope with the way his big body moved—with surprising grace—or the way he absorbed the beat so naturally.
She felt increasingly stilted, her pulse skipping—too fast for the rhythm of the music. She couldn’t relax—tried not to look at him at all. Until he grasped her by the upper arms and pulled her to him.
She gasped as their bodies collided.
‘You’re mad with me for leaving like that,’ he roughly muttered in her ear.
‘No, I’m not.’ She shook head and glared at him. ‘It was good you did, actually.’
‘Oh?’ His eyes glittered in the lights. It looked as if his temper was off the leash now.
‘Saved us from any awkwardness,’ she snapped.
‘And you’re not awkward now?’
‘No.’ She tossed her head, refusing to admit she was basically dying of discomfort. ‘But my shoes are killing me so I’ve had enough dancing, thanks. You don’t need me for anything tonight anyway, right? For the Whistle, I mean.’
‘No.’ His reply was frigid. Hard eyes raked her. ‘Not at all.’ He pushed her away and stalked through the crowd.
Sophy felt her own anger grow. What did he want—for her to fall at his feet again? To act the desperate female?
Never.
She pushed her way back to the bar where Rosanna was standing alone—a fresh cocktail in hand. She handed it out and Sophy gladly took a deep sip and handed it back.
‘Why don’t you just do him and be done with it?’ Rosanna asked as if it were the most logical thing in the world. ‘Honestly, the tension between you two is electric.’
Sophy didn’t inform her that she already had done him. And that instead of making the tension go away it had only made it worse. Much, much worse.
‘I should have known you’d have it in you. You never give yourself enough credit, as a result no one else does,’ Rosanna commented. ‘Our mistake.’
Have what in her? The ability to attract a shark like Lorenzo? Big deal. Rosanna had been right first time round—she couldn’t handle him. ‘What’s with you and the Vance guy?’ Sophy asked, wanting to think about something else. ‘I mean, that was rude, even for you.’
Rosanna shrugged. ‘Unfinished business, you know?’
Um, well, yes. Sophy knew Rosanna was angry, but she had her own frustrations too—and she needed space to deal with them. ‘I’ve had enough. I’m going home. You coming?’
Rosanna had the huntress look in her eye. ‘No. I’m finishing the business. Tonight.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sophy didn’t think it was such a good idea. Rosanna rarely allowed her emotions to bubble close to the surface and right now they were clearly on show.
‘Deadly.’
Sophy hesitated, wondered if she should stay—convince her friend to let it go. But she felt the presence at her back—the surge in awareness. She turned. Lorenzo—standing a millimetre away but looking totally remote. And she just knew he’d been listening in.
‘Stuck for a ride?’ he asked bluntly.
‘I can get a cab.’
‘No need. I’ll run you home.’
‘You’re not staying?’
‘Obviously not.’
She hesitated. It would be churlish to refuse. And she was handling this like a sophisticate, wasn’t she? ‘That would be great. Thanks.’
They walked from the bar. Not awkward at all? Ha.
‘It’s a real success,’ she said for the sake of saying something.
‘Yeah. Vance had the vision. It was a good one.’
But it was Lorenzo who had backed him on it. Kat had told her some of the background—turned out Lorenzo was the only one who would back Vance, when the banks wouldn’t.
‘I wonder how Rosanna knows him.’
‘You’ll have to ask her.’
Quite the clam, wasn’t he? She gave up on the small talk and simply watched him drive. The powerful machine purred under his hands, responding to his slightest touch. Just as
she had. She started to sweat again, clenched her muscles to stop the softening. She still wanted him, badly. But she wasn’t going to make the mistake of asking him again—she didn’t want to hear him say no. He pulled over outside Rosanna’s villa. She undid her belt and had her door open in a split second. The sooner she got away from him, the more likely she was to escape with the little dignity she had left. But her deeply in grained politeness made her bend and glance back into the car—right at him. ‘Thanks for the ride.’
‘My pleasure.’ His hard gaze bored into her.
Utterly still, she took in the intensity in his face. Why so angry? Burning with confusion, with embarrassment as she suddenly thought of an alternative to the ‘ride’ they were talking about, she slammed the door.
Lorenzo swore. Forced himself to wait until she was inside the door of her home and then put his foot to the floor. What the hell was he doing hovering around her? She was determined not to be bothered, that their night truly was all over. She couldn’t have made that clearer. And wasn’t that what he wanted?
No. He’d wanted her to admit she was feeling as out of sorts as he was—as unfulfilled, as hungry.
He gripped the wheel tighter and knew he’d better head back to the warehouse pronto before he did something stupid. He could feel it surging within him, the energy seeking to burst out of his skin. He hadn’t felt it this bad in a long time—the anger and the desire to destroy. The darkness deep within him was awake. Maybe it was a result of the illness last week. His control had been weakened. But it was the thought of Sophy that threatened it the most.
He’d just stay up all night. He’d get it back under control.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ROSANNA didn’t return that night but sent a safe-status text in the morning. Sophy grumped her way through breakfast, telling herself she desperately needed to Get Over Lorenzo.
She stayed at home all Sunday but went to work her usual ten minutes early on Monday. Tried to keep her pulse at a vaguely normal rate as she climbed the stairs up to her little domain. Not awkward. Not awkward at all.