He wouldn’t dare.Would he?
His smirk deepens, and I know he’s read my thoughts perfectly.Nausea crashes through me like a tidal wave, and my hands go clammy with the cold sweat of dread.
“And this here is Mike who lives near South End and—”
“A word please, Mr.uh…Saint,” I cut him off.
He follows me again to my examination room and goes to lean against the exam table.“Mr.Saint?”he asks, clearly amused.
“Well, I wasn’t going to call you by your real name in front of them and risk their lives,” I snap.I glare at him.“What is your game?”
“No game, I swear.”He gives me one of his boyish smiles, dimple and all.I want to stab him with the nearest sharp object.
“Agree to have dinner with me tonight and we will be out of this building in no time.”
What are my choices?Of course, I could tell him no and wait for him to grow bored.
But the Devil always gets what he wants, doesn’t he?
And, if I’m being honest, a tiny part of me is curious to know what it would be like to be with him.I exhale sharply, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.
“Okay.Just dinner,” I say, holding up my pointer finger for emphasis.“And only tonight.”
His smile widens, predatory and knowing, and I immediately regret my decision.
“Wise choice.”His voice is a little bit too smooth.“My driver will pick you up at seven from your father’s.”
Before I can even protest he’s gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of citrus and cedarwood and my heart fluttering in my chest like a caged bird.
* * * *
Damiano
Luc puts the key in the ignition and turns to me with a smirk.
“Sweet and gentle, huh?”
We both chuckle.
My little flower definitely has thorns.Tonight is going to be interesting.
Chapter Nine
Lily
I go home earlier than usual to get ready for dinner.I shower on autopilot as my nervousness threatens to overwhelm me.
‘Don’t let them see your fear.’
The problem is, I no longer feel the fear.Instead, something else has taken root, something more like excitement, and I can’t shake this feeling no matter how hard I try to reason with myself.I am excited to see him again, although nervous to be near him.
I realize with a jolt that I’ve been thinking all day about what to wear.It bothers me that on some subconscious level I want to impress him.He is probably used to being surrounded by beautiful and sophisticated women—women who know how to navigate this world, who have wealth, power and beauty.What could he possibly want from me?The insignificant orphan who has nothing to offer?No money, no connections, no power.As for looks, I’m miles away from the leggy models he seems to favor.
I admit, I might have stalked him a tiny bit on social media after that Saturday afternoon tea.There are hundreds of pictures of him with beautiful women on his arm at events, speculative articles about his ties to the underworld and some articles painting him as a ruthless and successful businessman.
That man is living on another planet—hell, another galaxy—than me.
I decide with firm resolve that I am going to set him straight about this…this thing, whatever it is he thinks we have.
