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I take a step, the first of many to cross the gallery floor towards her, but someone blocks my path.
“Elio,” says a high, syrupy voice.
“Nat,” I grunt in irritated reply. I take Natalia in with a quick glance. Long, bright blonde hair swishing around her shoulders. Tight golden dress that makes her tits and hips look fantastic. Lips so lubricated with gloss they’d slide up and down my shaft like a fucking wet dream.
And I don’t feel a thing.
The seductive smile on her face hardens at my lack of reaction to her. She wants me to want her and can tell that I don’t.
“What’s with the ginger?” she asks. And I feel something now, alright. Rage.
“None of your concern,” I warn. But she ignores the deadly edge to my voice, pouting and crossing her arms until her boobs practically reach her throat.
“I thought you didn’t fuck redheads,” she snaps. “Didn’t you tell me that last year when I dyed my hair red? I changed it back to blonde the next week and fried my fucking ends off.”
It’s not just red hair I don’t like. It’s the colour in general, especially when it veers into orange. Too garish, too hot, and most of the time I don’t want to fucking look at it. Unless it’s red wine, or blood, but both of those things are too dark to be confused with fire.
Deirdre’s hair looks like fire. A riot of orange-red flame tumbling down her back. I stare at her, jaw working, my fingers flexing inside my gloves. For a single, mind-numbing second, I think I smell smoke, and I wonder how fast I can cross this crowded room and grab her.
But then I breathe out between my teeth, realizing it’s the scent on Natalia’s hair and clothing. I’d forgotten she smokes. She knows better than to do it in front of me, but she must have had a cigarette recently, because the smell is fresh and not covered up by the cloud of hairspray and perfume around her. It sets me on edge.
“Who says I’ve changed my rules?”
Nat’s shiny lips part in an O of affronted surprise.
“Are you shitting me, Elio? I just watched you basically fuck her right there on the dance floor. It looked like you were practically inside of her! And she’s dripping with goddamn diamonds. Don’t tell me that they’re hers.”
“You and I aren’t together. Why do you give a shit who’s warming my bed?” I ask.
“Warming your bed?” she hisses. “I’ve never even been allowed to step foot in your goddamn house! You only ever want me to suck your dick in your car, or in hotels!”
“They were nice hotels,” I remind her flatly. The most expensive Toronto has to offer. She can’t complain on that front.
“That’s not the point and you know it!”
She’s right. I do know it. I know exactly why she’s pissed and I should have seen this coming. She’s the daughter of a capo loyal to our family. But she doesn’t just want to be somebody important’s daughter.
She wants to be somebody important’s wife.
She switches tactics, going from pissy to sultry.
“Come on, Elio,” she murmurs, laying a hand on my chest. “Let me take care of you tonight. Suck you.” Her tongue touches her glossy lips. “Ride you.”
My cock twitches, not because of Nat, but because of the image her words create. The image of a woman’s head bobbing between my spread thighs. When that woman’s eyes meet mine, they’re not Nat’s brown ones, but blue. Burning with hate and defiance and inescapable need, all at once.
Then I imagine Deirdre riding me. Fuck, she’s a virgin. So innocent she probably wouldn’t even know how. Would need my hands on her hips, rocking her, guiding her, just like I guided her greedy little clit against my thigh tonight.
I look over Nat’s head and find Deirdre’s eyes fastened on me from across the room. All the things to look at in here – the well-dressed people, the beautiful art – and I’m the one her gaze seeks out. Eyes on me, Songbird.
Nat is still touching me. I grip her wrist and pull her hand from my chest.
“Get out of here and take a fucking shower,” I mutter, dropping her hand. “Don’t ever come before me reeking of smoke again.”
Nat balks and looks at me like I’ve slapped her, but I ignore her reaction. There’s only one woman not related to me by blood or marriage in this building I actually care about.
She watches me with wary blue eyes as I approach.
Like she cannot turn away.
