The Maddest Obsession (Made 2)

“Are your parents as good-looking as you?” I asked him after we’d been there fifteen minutes and the third woman had already come up to introduce herself. For heaven’s sake, couldn’t she see he had a date?

The subtlest tension tightened in his shoulders. I thought he wasn’t going to answer me, but a moment later, he said, “My mother was.”

Was?

“What about your father?”

“Never met him.”

Oh. Wow.

“Siblings?” I questioned.

“A brother. As for his attractiveness, I couldn’t tell you.” An annoyed edge wove through his voice. “I don’t sit around and wonder about how appealing he looks.”

Okay.

I’d hit something a little sore. And I knew it wasn’t his pretty face. I’d joked with him about it on many occasions, and he’d always brushed it off with a light shoulder. An awkward tension now lay between us, the kind not even a cleared throat could penetrate.

While Christian went t

o get us drinks, I found our spot at our table. I was already regretting agreeing to come to this party, and things were just about to get worse.

Setting my clutch down, I turned to see where my moody date was in the room, only to come face-to-face with another fed. My gaze slid down his suit that was one size too big, to the Asics on his feet.

“Hi.” He grinned. “I’m Kyle Sheets.”

Smiling tightly, I shook his hand, and replied, “Gianna,” leaving out my last name. I was sure it was associated with too many criminal offenses to count. It was still Marino, and I had no intention of changing it. Russo was the old me, and my maiden name Bianchi didn’t feel right anymore either. Even my name was confused.

“I have to say, you look . . .” He tilted his head. “Familiar.”

Here we go.

I offered a coy smile. “Guess I have a common face.”

“No,” he drawled smoothly, his eyes coasting down my body, “I wouldn’t say that at all . . . So, who are you with?”

I glanced pointedly at the name card beside my purse that read, Christian Allister Guest.

“Ah, I guess I should’ve known.” He looked disappointed, scratching the back of his neck. “Allister didn’t tell me he had such a beautiful girlfriend.”

I somehow doubted Christian would tell this man anything.

Looking back, I should have just rolled with it—the man was clearly trying to find out if I was taken or available. But I was feeling a little petty. Christian knew my entire life story, while I’d only found out he had a sibling five minutes ago. And he’d seemed reluctant to even share that with me. All the words out of his mouth had contradicted this just sex relationship lately, blurring the line into nonexistence, and I needed to take it back a notch.

“Thank you, but that’s probably because I’m not his girlfriend.”

His eyebrows rose. “No kidding? You’re . . . different than the other women he dates. Thought you’d be more serious, I guess.”

“Nope.” I laughed, like that would be ridiculous. The man didn’t even trust me with the basic details about him. “We’re not serious.”

I knew before I’d finished the last word my date had found the perfect moment to return. The temperature dropped ten degrees.

Asics’ gaze flicked to a spot behind me and above my head. “Allister.”

There was no response.

Asics cleared his throat. Looked back at me. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around, Gianna.”