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“No way.”
My cousin looked at me like I was an idiot. “You talked about him all the time. You watched him constantly, and I knew it wasn’t just because you wanted to make him give you his math homework. You told people off when they tried to give him shit, acting like he was your prey, but you never did anything more than flirt with him.”
I choked on my swallow of whiskey. “Flirt?”
“There’s no other word for the way you teased him. You didn’t treat anyone else that way.”
Fuck. If Devil had seen that, who else had?
“Even after he refused to tutor you, you still watched him all the time.”
“I was trying to scare him, make him wonder when I was going to come for him.”
“Bull-fucking-shit. You stared at him like you wanted to eat him up.”
“And now I’ve got the chance to.” I tried my best to sound flippant, but Devil knew me too well.
“Are you going to come away from this pleased with yourself, or are you going to regret it?”
“Regret getting my revenge on him? Fuck no. Why would I?”
Devil held my gaze. “You know why.”
It was unnerving that he was the one trying to make me see reason.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll have him all out of my system by the time his debt is paid off.” I had to. This was about punishing him, not… something else.
“Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel what you’re feeling, Angel.”
I frowned at him. “Are you turning into some kind of romantic?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Nah. Not me. But look at Lucien. He’s happy. He smiles so much more than he used to. Peter is good for him. Maybe—”
“That’s not how things are with Cameron. He hates me.”
“Like you hate him?”
“Don’t push me.”
My tone must have let him know I was done talking. “Fine. If I’m so wrong, come out with me tomorrow and work off some of this tension.”
“If I’m not dealing with the shit Damian’s son stirred up, tomorrow is reserved for teaching Cam a lesson.”
Devil raised his brows. “And the night after that?”
“Three months, Devil. I’m taking three months to indulge myself with him.”
“And you don’t think you’ll get bored?”
“Fuck no, he’s—” Oh shit. The grin Devil gave me told me I’d given myself away, not that I thought he’d believed a damn thing I’d said anyway.
“He’s what, Angel? Mesmerizing? Perfect for you?”
“Shut the fuck up and give me that.” I grabbed the bottle from him and took a huge swig.
A while later, we were lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. The whiskey was gone, and I was enjoying the hell out of my buzz.
“You can be honest with me,” Devil said. “Tell me everything. You know I’m not going to judge you.”
I reached out and took his hand. “Same. You still haven’t told me what happened with Marco.”
“It’s nothing like you’re probably thinking. He knows something he shouldn’t, and someday it’s going to blow up in my face.”
Devil never doubted his ability to get out of trouble. What the hell did Marco have on him that made him feel trapped?
I wanted to know, but it wasn’t fair to ask when I had no intention of telling him that earlier that night, for just a moment, I’d thought Cameron might be for me what Peter was for Lucien.
15
Cameron
After the noise finally ceased downstairs and the door closed as the men who’d invaded my shop departed, I tossed and turned for the rest of the night. When I dragged myself from bed, I had a pounding headache, and I was already dreading seeing Angelo again.
Except for the part of me that wasn’t. That part of me wanted to skip all the hard work ahead of me and get right to the fucking Angelo part of my day. If only my body realized what an asshole he was.
I made coffee, then went for a cupcake. A few of them were missing. Angelo must’ve helped himself to them last night. He’d obviously enjoyed them if he ate more than one, and I resented how pleased that made me feel.
I was on the sidewalk in front of the bakery, trying to decide if I wanted to repaint the awning the same black-and-white it had always been or go with something different when a young man with a scruffy beard, curly hair, and what looked like a bag of tools in his hands stopped next to me.
“Are you Cameron Bellini?”
Annoyed that I was being interrupted, I answered with a reluctant, “Yes.”
“Great. I’m Nick. Angelo Marchesi sent me. He said you needed a contractor.”
Of course he’d ignored me when I’d said I didn’t want to work with his people. Like usual, he’d done exactly what he wanted.
He wants to take care of you. Admit it. Part of you likes that. A lot.
