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"Are you okay?" I whispered back, concerned now.
"I’m fine," she replied, her voice thick.
About to bully her into telling me what the hell was going on, I saw that Aidan had realized the stranger’s attention was elsewhere, and that led to him seeing that I was there.
His nostrils flared at the sight of me walking toward him, and I wasn’t about to lie—I strutted the hell out of that short walk. With every passing second, his tension increased, his jaw hardened, and I just knew his boner grew more and more painful.
I almost sighed with delight.
This sweet agony of need was mutual.
Thank God for small mercies.
With their attention on us, we were a silent group as, finally, we made it back to the table. The Italian got to his feet while Aidan made an effort to stand but I pressed my hand to his shoulder and murmured, "Just scoot over."
His nostrils flared as he reached up and tangled our fingers together.
I blinked at him, almost forgetting that we weren’t alone, that the table had other people sitting at it, and that we were in a very busy bar. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be back in the elevator, me on my knees, his cock in my mouth.
Almost drooling at the thought, I slipped into the booth when he finally shifted along, and as I did, I saw that the stranger’s intense stare hadn’t died a death at all. Proximity be damned.
Jen, on the other hand, was staring down at the table.
This was weird.
Why wasn’t she flirting with him? Charming him?
"Savannah, Jennifer, please, meet Luciu Valentini."
I tensed, shot Aidan a look, received a brisk nod of his chin that involved him dipping his head forward a scant half-inch, and had my confirmation that this Valentini and the one Brennan had mentioned yesterday was, indeed, sitting at our table.
What on earth was going on?
"It is a pleasure to meet you, ladies," Valentini replied, his tone courtly but there was a lilt of an accent that made his voice sinful. It wasn’t just Italian. It was far more complex than that. I’d never heard a Sicilian accent before, but I guessed today was a day for firsts.
Aidan tipped his glass down and said, "Jen, your guest sent a note. He isn’t coming."
Jen didn’t even scowl, just reached for the drink in front of her. Aidan, in our absence, had poured some whiskey into the glass the waitress had brought us, and that was the one she grabbed and, subsequently, lost her bet with Aidan over as she started coughing the second the liquor hit her tongue.
Aidan chuckled, but Valentini pressed a hand to her arm and asked, "Do you need some water?"
Jen tensed and, mid-cough, peered down at his arm. Her cheeks, already bright pink, flushed some more. "I’m fine, thanks."
"I think you just lost your bet, Jen," I teased her gently.
"Bet?" Valentini crooned.
It was hard to think this was the guy who routinely made a habit of slicing up people’s faces, leaving them permanently scarred. What he did to them wasn’t pretty, but then, hadn’t Aidan said he’d flayed someone? I mean... there was very little that was more gory than that.
"Jen keyed her ex’s Ferrari," Aidan murmured, his tone droll as he took a small sip of whiskey. “We had a bet going on so she could earn some money to pay him off.”
As far as I knew, that was his one and only measure too.
"He was cheating on me!" Jen sputtered, some of her usual fire returning and replacing the weird coyness I wasn’t used to. "What was I supposed to do?"
Valentini propped his elbows on the table. "The fool cheated on you?"
Ignoring his question, I grinned at her. "Dump his lying ass?"
