I hook my leg loosely around his waist before pressing my lips to the shell of his ear, shuddering when the scent of his cologne filters into my nostrils. “I’m well aware. I knew in the alleyway when he watched me come, in the woods when he spared my life, and I know right now even with him ripping my heart to shreds, Dimitri Petretti doesn’t play games with anyone…except me.”
Dimitri has an eye on every person in the room, but there’s only one person he is paying attention to—me.
Good.
All is fair in love and war, and this is about as treacherous as it gets.
Pretending he doesn’t want me is one thing, reminding me he’s married is another, but this, allowing a woman to slobber over him directly in front of me is an entirely new kettle of fish, and I am done pretending I’m okay with it.
Even with my heart screaming at me to pull back on the reins, I match the blonde’s seductive moves, tease for tease. When she presses her lips to Dimitri’s ear, mine get super friendly with Rocco’s. When she drags her nails across Dimitri’s pecs, I scour Rocco’s with mine. And when she finally succeeds in undoing the buckle on Dimitri’s belt, I tug on Rocco’s just as aggressively.
“Dammit, Roxie, you’ve got me all types of conflicted. I don’t want Dimitri to slice my dick off if it gets hard at the thought of you stroking it, but if you’re going to touch the hammer, I can’t have you doing it while he’s half-mast. That’s an injustice Icannotallow.”
I don’t pay Rocco’s witty-filled comment any attention. I can’t. I’m too busy staring at Dimitri, shocked as hell I am seconds from sliding my hand into his number two’s pants, and he’s not going to do a damn thing about it.
The cropped hairs splayed across Rocco’s pelvis are tickling my fingertips. I can hear the unease in the beats of Rocco’s heart that we’re stepping over the line, yet, Dimitri just stares.
He doesn’t blink.
He doesn’t move.
He. Just. Stares.
“Fuck you!” I shout at Dimitri while yanking my hand out of Rocco’s pants like his ‘hammer’ scorched my fingers. “Someone in this room killed our baby! Maestro might have punched me in the stomach and kicked me over and over again, but he was acting on the orders of awoman.Shetold him what to do.Shetold him to do whatever it took to get rid of our child when the finger he forced inside of me came out free of carnage.” I stand to my feet like I’m not sick to my stomach with disgust. “But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it? Because the death of our baby means there’s one less person for you to pretend you give a shit about.”
I shrug out of Rocco’s hold when he snatches my wrist. I’m not about to race over to Dimitri’s side of the club to beg for his scraps like a fool. I’m going home to lick my wounds and refuel, then I’ll start again on my quest to find the person responsible for the death of my child because despite what my heart believes, she isn’t in this room.
The shocked sigh that collectively rolled around the no-longer thrumming space during the middle part of my confession was too loud to exclude a single patron. They wereallhorrified by my comment our baby was killed—even the blonde with her hand halfway into Dimitri’s pants.
34
Roxanne
“Can you please hurry the fuck up? It’s a pimped-out Range Rover. How many could you possibly have in the lot?”
The valet excuses Rocco’s foul language since it was said after a pleasantry. “Surprisingly, quite a few. Tonight’s guests seem to be fans of that make and model.”
“It’s fine,” I interject, stepping between Rocco and the valet before Rocco can sock him in the nose. “My flight was scheduled to depart hours ago. I doubt there’ll be another one until dawn, so there’s no need to hurry.”
I twist to face Rocco when apfftnoise vibrates his lips. “What?”
For the first time since I’ve known him, he lies to my face. “I didn’t say anything.” Mercifully, my tapping foot and my crossed arms soon call him out as the liar he is. “Dimitri didn’t organize for you to fly home commercially. He’s paying five thousand an hour to have a jet fueled and on the runway. Has been since Wednesday.”
“Wednesday.” Although it sounds like I am asking a question, I’m not. “The day of my ultrasound?”
Unsure if I’m summarizing or seeking answers, Rocco halfheartedly shrugs. His lackluster response should ease my annoyance. It doesn’t. Not in the slightest. I thought Dimitri believed my claims our baby was killed. The fact he’s had a private jet on standby since the day India told him otherwise proves he doesn’t.
“Then I guess you better hurry,” I say to the valet. “I’d hate to waste another dime of Dimitri’s hard-earned money.” The way I spit out ‘hard-earned’ exposes exactly what I think about Dimitri’s family business.
They’re proof money can’t buy happiness. They just rent it for a few hours and pretend their life is bliss, having no clue substance should always override quality.
“Finally,” Rocco breathes out with a groan when our car rolls to a stop in front of us.
The darkness swamping me doesn’t seem so dense when Rocco beats the valet to my door. He holds it open for me, his smile more welcoming now than when I used him as my pawn.
His grin would have you believing we won tonight. My nanna always said sometimes you must lose an occasional battle to win the war, but I don’t feel anything close to victorious right now.
“Chin up, Princess P,” Rocco mutters like he heard my private thoughts. “You’ve got more chance of jabbing the main players in the ass if you’re tailing them from behind.” He winks, shuts my door, then jogs around to the driver’s side door by darting around the trunk.
