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His chuckle was dry and humorless. “You, princess, are my business.” He grabbed my arm, turned, and dragged me alongside the building.
“Let go. You promised not to touch me.”
He didn’t slow down.
“Well, you lied to me, and that means you forfeited the right to cry uncle now.”
“Oh my God, you’re truly insufferable.”
He opened a door and dragged me inside, then stopped short of bumping into a server, balancing six full plates on his arms.
We’d entered the busy kitchen of the restaurant I just ran from.
“Giuseppe, I need a table for two,” Alex shouted to a man who was obviously the chef of this kitchen.
Giuseppe pointed to the right, and Alex marched us there, all the while hanging on to my arm.
Once we arrived at a table in a private nook, still in the kitchen but outside of the main walkways, he let go of my arm and pulled out a chair for me. “Sit.”
I glared at him but sat.
He rounded the table and took the chair opposite of me. “I didn’t intend to eat, but it seems, the minute I let you out of my sight, you do things that harm yourself.”
I folded my arms over my chest, which prompted his eyes to flicker down before he slowly dragged them back up.
Very slowly.
His gaze on me was like a physical caress. My nipples hardened.
Bloody hell.
The last thing I needed was for Alex bloody Falcone to get a whiff of me being physically attracted to him.
“I’m not. And newsflash. I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself. This is entirely unnecessary.”
He leaned back, a strange gleam in his eyes.
I mimicked his stance, stared back at him without saying anything.
Our staring contest lasted until a very pretty female server approached our table. “Alessandro, what an honor.” She nodded at me, though her eyes were cold as ice when she looked me over.
If I didn’t know any better, and if it wasn’t completely ridiculous, I would say it was hate at first sight.
Was she jealous of me?
I suppressed a grin—one more member of the Alessandro Falcone fan club.
“Hey, Bridget, can you bring us one of everything?”
I hung my head and sighed.
So over the top.
“Of course,” Bridget singsonged.
I looked back up and caught her practically undressing Alex with her eyes.
“I missed you at the club last weekend.”
