Page 13 of Pretty Lies

Well …

That was sweet.

Her embarrassment over drunk-calling her brother to spill all the details about her club hook-up the weekend before didn’t last long. Hell, she only remembered brief flashes of it the day after. It took a couple days for all of it to come back. It wasn’t like her to get so drunk that she would act foolish with a man, but it did what she wanted.

It got Luis straight out of her head.

Now when she was alone, her mind filled with thoughts of tattoos—wings on his throat; how those muscles there flexed when he swallowed—and the way he tasted when he kissed her after he’d ate her until she came. Before and after he’d fucked her.

Again.

Just for good measure.

It wasn’t so much what she did—but who—that kept Della from wanting to talk about the hook-up. That was a secret better kept to herself, considering the man who’d picked her up hadn’t seemed to know who she was, and frankly, from the rumors she knew about Cory Rossi … well, he was probably exactly her type.

Bad.

Rude.

Trouble all over.

Also, she was pretty sure he was a friend of her brother’s—but that was business J did with the people of the Outfit that Della wasn’t even allowed near. She knew just enough about Cory Rossi and the Outfit to know the men around him held the highest seats in the mob. Her father and brother kept all of that and those men far away from her. Or as much as possible. That way, no one who didn’t really matter couldn’t cause a problem about her involvement in the business.

She didn’t know when that might change.

As for Cory …

She was going to keep pretending that didn’t happen. Even if her mind and body wouldn’t let her forget.

“Let’s not ever mention that again,” Della finally said, picking up the glass of liquor on the table that she had yet to touch. That moment seemed like the right one to down the whole damn drink in a single go. Next to her, J chuckled under his breath, but otherwise, said nothing more about her drunk calls.

Good.

Then, her brother’s good mood vanished; in place of his previous happiness now rested a face made of angry stone. Della didn’t even have to look over her shoulder to know what caused that look on her brother. Only one person made him that pissed.

Luis Ruiz.

“You having her watched now?” J asked as he rose from the table before Della could even get her glass set down. When she did, though, she was quick to stand and put a hand on her brother’s chest to keep him from stepping around her to get out of the booth. “You must be, asshole, because how else would you know she was here tonight? She’s only been here tenminutes—at most. You’re looking to have a real fucking problem.”

The dark chuckle behind Della had her giving J a look, one she hoped voiced for him to calm the hell down, before she looked over her shoulder.

The thing about Luis?

The man was devastating.

A little broken, too.

And he liked for everything else to be broken along with him.

Wrap that up in a package of gorgeousness and sex, and any woman who had a thing for a bad boy would run right after him. Della had not been an exception to the rule, but she wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for the trap twice.

So, his beautiful face made up of severe lines, with brows that dipped low in suggestion when he talked, and those lips that told the prettiest lies did nothing for her. That’s how Della knew she was done. She looked at him and felt nothing.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Maybe if she just finally made it clear that she wasn’t interested, because apparently ignoring his calls and getting rid of his shit a month ago hadn’t been enough to do it, he would go away. Move on.

“Haven’t found someone new to break, Luis?” she asked.