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Not that I was given a chance.
Gio reached out and snagged my hand, tugging me onto his other leg. There wasn’t quite enough room on his lap for two of us, and I wasn’t into ménages. But when I tried to shove him away, he pinched my hip, hard, and caught my gaze.
“Wait,” he mouthed.
I turned my face away, unwilling to play his game. But I still wasn’t getting off his lap, because it was safer there than anywhere near Marco.
One of the men from the other night grinned. “Look at you, gumba. Two for the price of one.”
“They’re priceless, Z.” Gio laughed, but even I could hear how hollow it sounded.
That didn’t mean I’d tolerate his bullshit. I was in the bathroom for five minutes, and he had a girl on his lap? Really? And he expected me to pretend I cared about him? Right now, all I wanted was to rub his face in the dirt.
A short while later, Marco headed to the dance floor with his arms around a pair of blonds, and the guy from the other night that Gio had called Z started flirting with an all-too-willing waitress.
Perfect time to make my escape.
I climbed off Gio’s lap and beelined for the bar. I needed a drink. They weren’t the best about carding at the club, and the bartender on duty was a friend. He’d slip me a Rum Runner if I asked him nicely and flashed him a little boob.
“Hey, Josh.” I wedged my way in at the end of the bar and wiggled my fingers.
“Carlotta. You vision.” He grinned and strolled over. “What can I get you? You in the mood for a virgin—”
“Aw, c’mon now. We both know I’m not into virgin anything.”
His grin grew. “And it shows, honey. So tell me then. What can I get you?” He leaned on the bar, his tanned forearms ripping. “Anything you want. Anything at all.”
I sensed the looming presence behind me before I took a quick glance over my shoulder and glimpsed Gio’s glower. “Rum,” I said sweetly, turning back to Josh. “Lots of it.”
He glanced at Gio then back to me, his smile slipping slightly. “You got it. One sec.”
The minute he’d turned away, Gio caged me in with his arms on either side of the bar. Where I’d had to fight to make room, people seemed to just glide away in deference to him.
“You’re angry,” he said against the side of my neck, his breath ruffling my heavy hair. Stupid wig.
I didn’t answer, just tapped my fingernails on the bar and pretended I couldn’t feel his cock pressing into my ass.
Of course he was hard. Why wouldn’t he be? He’d just been sitting in the middle of a flesh banquet, with two pairs of ripe melons inches from his mouth.
“I’m not interested in her. She’s just part of the game.”
Those words made me irrationally mad. I whirled and jabbed a finger in his chest. “Part of what game?”
He pressed his lips together and said nothing.
“My sister is right.” I shook my head. “Once a con artist, always a con artist.”
“Carlotta, here’s your Rum Runner. On the house,” Josh added when Gio took out his wallet.
“Thank you,” I said to my friend, taking a swig that went straight to my still woozy head.
“You’re not getting drunk. You need to have your wits about you.” Gio plucked my drink out of my hand and held it just out of reach.
“You bastard.”
It took everything I possessed not to create a big ass scene, mainly because I was still feeling the aftereffects of my meltdown at the end of my set. And because he’d touched another girl right in front of me. God, that hurt.
“You’ll thank me later.”
