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“L-little girl?” I sputtered. “I’m no one’s little girl.”
He gave another evil chortle. One that said I was lying. But that’s where he was wrong. If anyone knew the most basic facts about me, they’d know I was no longer anyone’s little girl. Having your father incarcerated at the age of twelve obliterated any fantasies of a childhood. If not for my mother, regardless of her many faults, I’d be a ward of the state.
“That remains to be seen,” he murmured as he gestured the cocktail waitress over. She was there in under a second, batting her fake lashes at Nicu in a way that made my hands curl into fists. My spine hit the back of the booth, shock reverberating through my frame. Since when did I get a whiff of jealousy, much less the desire to rip another woman to shreds?
Never, that’s when.
Until now.
I stuffed down my fury at her blatant flirting and at myself for getting triggered by said flirting. As if she, and everyone in their insular world, didn’t know he was engaged to my best friend.
Ugh.
When flirty slutty cocktail waitress sashayed her way to the other end of the VIP section, Nicu’s eyes found mine and crinkled at the corners. God, it was his first full smile. And it was stunning. My breath caught in my throat. Everything he did drew me in.
His hand found mine over the table. His touch scorched me.
I quickly withdrew my hand. “Don’t touch me. I’m Cat’s best friend,” I hissed. “So whatever sick thoughts you have bouncing around in that head of yours, get rid of them instantly.”
His mesmerizing cold eyes drilled into mine. “What thoughts are those, baby girl?”
“Don’t call me that,” I gritted out, fisting my hands.
He leaned over until he was so close that his breath skimmed over my lips, as light as a feather. I licked mine. His eyes flicked down to my mouth before he opened his own and said, “You don’t know me, so I won’t take offense to your tone of voice. This time. But let me make one thing clear. I do what the fuck I want, when the fuck I want.”
The sweet scent of his breath had me biting down on my bottom lip to suppress a moan.
He leaned back. “I’ll call you what I damn well please, princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” I scoffed with a harsh laugh. “Cat’s the princess.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” His eyes coasted over my face and down to my chest in a proprietary way that had me breaking out in a sweat. “Every inch of you screams princess, baby doll. I should know. I’m royalty.”
Maybe it was the fact that Cat had gone off with Luca, that there was no mistaking the fixation on Luca’s face when he looked at her and knew he was never letting her go, that made me weaken toward Nicu. Maybe it was the liquor on an empty stomach or that Nicu was the sexiest, most dangerous man I’d ever met. Whatever it was, he was eroding my defenses.
Enough so that I allowed him to guide me out of the club. Slipping his hand into the jacket, he laid it on my lower back, exposed from my low-cut dress, searing my skin. I regretted my choice of wardrobe, liking his touch way too much as he maneuvered me toward a sleek black Ducati bike. According to Cat, both Luca and Nicu were obsessed with Italian vehicles.
Handing me his helmet, he arched his brow in challenge.
“Nice bike,” I mused as I circled it.
“You know bikes?” he asked, surprise lacing his question.
I rolled my eyes. “My father liked anything fast. Bikes. Cars. He was like a kid that way.” I exhaled a resigned sigh. It was what made his current stationary situation, trapped in an eight-by-eight cell, so very tragic.
“Don’t you need this more than I do?” I questioned, swaying the heavy helmet from my finger in his face. “Considering you’re driving.”
“Is that concern I detect in your tone?” he teased. “I’m touched. But there’s no need to worry about me.” Patting the engine, he added, “She’s my girl. I could ride her in my sleep. Nothing will happen to me.” His eyes turned sharp and accusatory as if I’d insulted him by questioning his skills. “Or you. Although unnecessary, if one of us should wear it, it should be you.”
With that, he took the helmet and placed it on my head with a gentleness I hadn’t expected and adjusted it to fit me. He swung onto the bike and turned to me expectantly. I shifted from foot to foot. Not only was my dress backless, but it was short as hell. Even though it was midsummer and humid in the city, I wasn’t about to return Nicu’s jacket just yet. Even with its coverage, there was no getting on that bike without flashing everyone within a block radius. Especially the crowd milling in front of the club not too far from us.
“Problem?” he queried with another arching of his brow.
“There’s no way I can get on this monster without exposing myself.”
He snorted. “Thank fuck you’re not Romanian mafie. I don’t have to worry about your modesty.”
Hurt slashed through my chest like the serrated edge of a steel knife.
