Page 14 of Anton

“I’ll see you two later.”

Rue skips away beside him, and the instant they’re gone, Cider bumps me with her muzzle.

“Yeah, yeah.” I laugh and slide my fingers through her mane. “I didn’t forget about you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THORA

When I step into the coffee shop hoping to steal a few quiet minutes before returning to work, awareness prickles along the back of my neck, sending goose bumps across my skin. I glance to the left, and that’s when I see him.

Anton sits at a table with a cup gripped in one hand and his phone in the other, studying the screen with such intense focus that the rest of the room might as well not exist. I can’t believe he’s here in my favorite coffee shop, though sadly without that beautiful dog beside him this time.

He hasn’t noticed me yet, which is probably for the best. I really should stay far away from men in the Mafia, yet here I am practically pining after one.

He isn’t even the type of man I usually find attractive. There’s something dark and dangerous about him, like he’s spent so long surrounded by violence that it’s the only place he feels at home.

Considering who he is, that’s probably true.

Still, there’s something else too—something I can’t quite put my finger on—and that only makes me want more time with him so I can figure it out.

Of course, Blair’s voice cuts through my head, reminding me he’s not a horse, but a man. A real man.

But honestly, are we really so different from animals?

I move farther inside, unable to stop watching him. His black T-shirt stretches across his body, the sleeves drawing attention to his tattooed forearms and the veins beneath his skin, while the dark stones in his heavy watch catch the light.

He pushes a hand through his hair, thick fingers combing back the messy strands that somehow still fall perfectly into place, and I remain rooted there like an intruder who has no business staring. Every part of him is sexy and unfairly good-looking.

Damn it. Why can’t he be ugly?

Nothing can even come of this. My parents would never allow it. I don’t know why exactly, but Anton was right. Our families are not friends.

But we could be…

Right. He doesn’t even like you. So get your head out of the gutter, grab your coffee to go, and get out before he sees you.

But of course, I don’t listen to myself. I stay right where I am, staring at his broad shoulders and wondering if he could bench-press me.

He absolutely could. Just look at those shoulders, so big and⁠—

“Thora?” the barista, Nadia, calls out.

I turn toward the sound just as Anton looks up, his attention snapping away from his phone the second he hears it. His hooded gaze traps me in place, and I go still, caught there in the weight of it.

There’s nothing warm or inviting about him, yet I still can’t look away. My pulse jumps, and then he crooks a finger with the faintest hint of amusement touching his face, his eyes saying he already knows I won’t refuse.

As though I’m being pulled, I move toward him, stopping at his table as heat climbs up my neck. “Uh, hey.”

His irises travel over me with deliberate hunger. No man has ever looked at me like this before, undressing me in his mind without the slightest hint of apology.

“Stalking me?” He holds my stare as one corner of his mouth lifts and a dimple appears.

Oh, crap. I’m a sucker for those.

His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and my nipples tighten as I imagine that mouth in far less innocent places. His smirk stretches, telling me he caught every filthy thought.

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I don’t think so. I always come here. Kind of wondering if you’re the one stalking me, though. Or maybe it’s fate.”