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I blinked. “Since right now.”
His jaw ticked, and he flicked a dark gaze toward the side before focusing it on me. I realized that was Nicolas Russo’s way of rolling his eyes in disgust.
What the heck was his problem?
“He’s a cop.”
I couldn’t help the little nose wrinkle.
Well, not ideal, but I guessed I could work with it. He didn’t look like a cop and I could usually tell. Even when they were crooked, they still didn’t fit. He was FBI, maybe. No way he was a street cop. They never came to the house, and the fact that Christian had must mean he was high-profile and didn’t fear getting spotted by any surveillance. Only the dark side of the world knew how corrupt the government was. Maybe it was why I was so interested in politics—my life was immersed in it already.
After a moment, I lifted a shoulder. “Okay.”
His gaze sparked. “Stay away from him.”
I paused, not understanding his sudden temper. Maybe this was about last night. Was he that mad about the phone incident?
“I didn’t tell Tony about the photo, Nicolas.”
“I know,” he said with heat. “I did.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why would you do that?”
“I wanted to beat the shit out of your brother.”
I blinked, not expecting such a candid response, and then let out a half laugh. “Well, was it as satisfying as you had hoped?”
“No.” The word was dark, full of meaning and underlined with something magnetic that tingled in my breasts. He glanced at my hand by my side and then back at me. “Not very faithful, are you?”
I was taken aback, even though I didn’t understand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Instead of answering me, he pushed off the column and ran a hand down his tie. “He’s not fucking Italian. There’s no chance for you and him.”
Back on the Christian kick, were we?
Nicolas took a step toward the open front door, apparently done with this conversation.
My papà hadn’t seemed to have an issue with what I’d said to Christian. Why was Nicolas making such a big deal of it? Frustration swelled in my chest and the words slipped from my lips before I could stop them.
“Who said I’m thinking about marriage?”
He halted, his dark gaze practically assaulting me.
Wrong thing to say.
“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.”
I swallowed.
“And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.”
He slammed the door behind him.
“I can resist anything except temptation.”
—Oscar Wilde
THERE COMES A POINT IN life when you know that what you want to do is wrong, and you have to decide whether to avoid the temptation or do it anyway.
