Page 41 of Dirty Boss

He cleared his throat, sidling closer to the brunette. “Long time no see,” he announced. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Alba, how his gaze raked down her body and back up again, openly assessing, almost possessive. Then he looked at me.

I let him see exactly what I thought of him, all the anger and aggression and territorial possession, and he replied by arching a brow.

“New pet?” the woman—Yvette—asked with a mean smile.

“Who, yours?” Alba shot back, then lifted her chin. “Excuse us.” She motioned to the coat check, where the attendant was doing her best to look like she wasn’t gobbling up the interaction. Alba’s back was straight as she swept past the couple, her movements sure. I stared at the couple as they went through the lobby doors, then turned to Alba, who was handing her coat check ticket to the attendant with a polite smile.

While the attendant looked through the racks for our jackets, Alba stared straight ahead. Blotches of red bloomed on her cheeks, her neck, and I could see the thrumming of her blood in her neck.

“Who were they?” I asked quietly.

“Old friends,” she clipped. “Don’t worry about them. You did well today.”

“Alba—”

“Your jacket,” she said, nodding to the attendant as she handed mine over and grabbed her own. She still hadn’t looked at me.

“So. I’ll send through the details for our next session. I’ve got a train to catch.” She looked down at the closure of her jacket, her hands steady as she did up the zipper.

If I hadn’t spent time studying her every move, I would’ve thought she was okay.

But she wasn’t. Her mask was on—the one she wore in society. It was on tight, except for the very slight twitching at the corner of her eyes.

“Alba—wait.” I followed her out the door. “Hang on. Talk to me.”

“We’re both busy, Vaughn,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

I jogged to catch up, the bottom of my jacket flapping around my thighs. “Alba.”

She spun when I curled my hand around her arm. Her eyes remained downcast, her breaths gusting out in big puffs of white. It wasn’t snowing, but the sky was overcast and oppressive above us. Cars went by, the sound of wet slush and melted snow squelching under their tires.

“Let go of me,” she said quietly, and I did.

With my arms hanging uselessly at my sides, unable to hold her to me, unable to draw her in, I asked, “Who were they?”

“I told you that already.”

“Tell me again. Tell me to go in there and punch him in the mouth, and I will. Tell me, Alba.”

Finally, she looked at me. Her eyes were blue, blue, blue, and terribly unhappy. She was beautiful and sad and I wanted to fix it.

“He’s the reason I broke off my engagement. I thought?—”

“I’ll kill him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious.” And I was. I’d been joking before, mostly, but if she told me he hurt her and she wanted revenge, I’d walk right back into that pretentious fucking restaurant and stab him in the neck with his own fork.

But then her gaze was on me, and some of the sadness in her eyes had ceded to faint amusement. “You’ll never convince me you’re some kind of crime lord, Vaughn.”

“Plausible deniability. Smart.”

Her lips tried to curl, and she shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m good. I just—I wasn’t expecting to see him. Them, together. I’m sorry.”

Unable to resist any longer, I lifted my hands to rub her upper arms. “Don’t apologize. Not for that.”

She swallowed, and when she leaned into me and rested her forehead against my shoulder, my breath caught in my lungs. I was afraid to breathe in case she backed away again. Moving slowly, I wrapped my arms around her and felt her sigh, her breath warm against my neck.