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So that was what he thought.
I flushed, first from his hard words, then because of his angry expression. Something in his eyes, however, lit up my insides in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment over his words. My gaze slid lower. The left side of his jaw and lower cheek were red.
I moved toward him and touched the spot. “It’s swelling.”
His hand soared up, clamping his fingers around my wrist. I froze and swallowed hard because his eyes were like embers, and my body became aflame. His grip around my wrist hurt a lot. “Nevio,” I whispered, and he loosened his hold, dropping my wrist as if it burned him.
He straightened, bringing us closer. I tilted my head back to look at him. The way he still looked down at me made me want to run. I could tell this might end in a very bad way. How could it not? He smelled of weed, cigarettes, and alcohol, not smells I liked, but beneath it was Nevio’s very own musky, herby scent caught me in its trap. I licked my lips. Nevio took a step closer and gripped my chin but not in a gentle way. “Did you dress up like that for someone special?”
His voice made me want to run from him and get closer to him at the same time. Something was entirely wrong with me. “Don’t you know?” I whispered. He must know.
“What I know is that this house is full of bad people, Rory, and I’m the worst.” He bent down so our eyes met. “Stay away from our parties. Stay away from me.” He reached for my blouse and buttoned up the top buttons, then he undid the knot above my navel and tugged the hem down so it covered my belly. “That’s you.”
I winced, my cheeks burning fiercely from acute mortification. I didn’t say anything because I was at a loss for words, like I often was around Nevio.
“Now go downstairs, grab Lotti, and get the fuck outta here and back into your comfy bed. Tell Massimo to drive you, and if I see you around when I go back downstairs, there will be hell to pay.”
My lips parted, and I felt the treacherous sting of tears in my eyes. I breathed through my nose, determined not to cry in front of Nevio.
He scanned my eyes, too observant yet cruel, bared his teeth, and stepped back. “Get back home, Rory. You’re in my way. I need to find a bitch to suck me off.”
I wanted to scream and rage, to give him a really nasty piece of my mind, but as usual, nothing passed my lips. I whirled around and stumbled down the staircase. A few tears trailed down my cheeks, but I wiped them off before someone could see them. Carlotta perched on the couch's armrest, Massimo was beside her, and one of her legs was pressed against one of his. I could tell they were caught up in one of their very common discussions about what they believed or, in Massimo’s case, didn’t.
I didn’t want to interrupt them. I slinked over to the kitchen, hoping to find an alcoholic beverage I could tolerate. I hated the taste of most of them. But I wanted to get drunk or at least tipsy right now to forget my conversation with Nevio. Part of me wanted to go back upstairs to confront him and give him a piece of my mind for the first time ever, but that would have required a level of inebriation I definitely wouldn’t acquire tonight. I hated my Goody Two-shoes ass sometimes. I froze in the doorway to the kitchen. Alessio was kissing a girl. He immediately pulled away from her, alert as always, and met my gaze. I blushed furiously and stuttered an apology, then fled the room as if I’d caught them naked doing the rodeo. If I couldn’t even handle seeing someone kissing, how was I supposed to ever make a move toward Nevio? Though after tonight, that was a distant dream anyway.
Maybe my reaction to public displays of affection was why Nevio didn’t see me as a woman but a little girl. If I couldn’t handle seeing something as harmless as a kiss, how would I be a part of the dirty deeds Nevio was undoubtedly up to? I wasn’t sure I was ready for Nevio’s level, but I wanted to be.
Eventually, I settled for a vodka-O, though the orange juice hardly masked the taste of the alcohol. After a few sips, my gaze caught Carlotta’s. She got up from the armrest and quickly made her way over to me. Massimo’s intent gaze followed her the entire way as if it had been glued to her back. I wished Nevio would regard me with that level of interest, though Massimo always freaked me out a little.
Carlotta pursed her lips as she regarded my drink. “Last time you tried vodka, you threw up behind a bush.”
I grimaced, remembering Nevio’s amusement over the incident. That had been one of my many embarrassing moments around him. I was a mess. “How do you know it’s not just orange juice?”
Carlotta gave me a pointed look. “Because your expression tells me you need something stronger.”
I let out a laugh. She knew me too well. I gave a small shrug.
“You and Massimo seemed quite cozy.”
“We were just talking.” Carlotta’s dark brows pulled together, and her eyes moved back to where Massimo sat on the sofa, now in conversation with a guy I didn’t know. But he looked straight at her as if he could feel her gaze. She smiled and gave a small wave. He nodded.
I scoffed. “He wants to do more than talking.”
Carlotta shook her head slowly and turned back to me. “What about you and Nevio? I thought you wanted to talk to him.”
I took another sip from my drink and almost gagged.
“Maybe it’s for the best that it’s not working out between Nevio and you. He’s the monster under your bed,” Carlotta said as if I didn’t know.
“He has no intention of going anywhere near my bed, so you don’t have to worry. You’re closer to having a monster under your bed than I am.”
Carlotta’s gaze moved back to Massimo, and her cheeks turned pink.
I sighed. “Go back to your monster.”
“He’s not…”
I wasn’t sure what she wanted to deny. That he was a monster. Or that he was hers. Neither would have been convincing, so it was good she’d stopped herself.
