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DAEMON
Anger and need for my girl surge through me as I watch Alex brazenly touch her in front of me.
I know what he’s doing. Isla too.
But it’s not fucking necessary.
My heart is like a fucking bass drum pounding in my chest, my senses hyper-aware as I wait for something to happen.
No matter how many times everyone tries to convince me that we’re all safe here, I refuse to believe it.
I’m all for baiting the Italians and throwing them for a loop by not being where they’re expecting us to be. But the girls, Calli, should not be in the fucking middle of it.
There are so many other things we could have done to pull them out of their hiding places and cut them down.
My fists curl beneath the table, but Calli doesn’t miss the way my shoulders tense, because lines form on her brow simultaneously.
The image of her damn near hitting the deck when our eyes first collided earlier is still playing out in my mind, and I’m still as confused about it as I was then.
I know things are intense between us, but that was…
Isla’s warm, whisky-laced breath races down my neck.
“I’m not saying I didn’t believe you or anything, but fuck, that girl is so far gone for you.”
My heart jumps into my throat at her words, my eyes still locked on my girl as she talks to Jerome, although her attention wanders to me every few seconds as if she can’t keep her eyes off me.
“Yeah?” I ask, hating that I sound like a hopeful pre-teen girl, but also not really giving a shit about it.
All I care about at this moment is her, and making sure that if the worst should happen tonight, I get her as far away from it as fast as possible.
“Yeah, and the sexual tension between the two of you is making even me horny. You think anyone would notice if I—”
“Please, don’t finish that sentence. I really don’t need to know how it ends.”
She chuckles beside me as Evan continues to drawl on how wonderful his wife is.
No one at our table is listening, not even Nico or Calli, so I don’t bat an eye about letting it all pass me by. As far as I’m concerned, Cassandra is a control freak with a stick shoved so far up her arse that even the world’s best doctor couldn’t wiggle it free.
Finally, Evan encourages us to raise a toast once the waiters have handed out fresh glasses of champagne, and I happily oblige in the drinking part of his speech.
I throw the bubbly shit down with a wince as it seems to explode down my throat.
“Ugh,” I complain.
“Here,” Isla says, passing me a bottle of whisky that she had hiding… fuck knows where.
I stare at her in confusion.
“Knife one side, whisky the other,” she says, tapping her thigh.
“I have no words,” I say, taking the bottle and sinking a shot.
Calli still doesn’t drink. Instead, she just places her glass back on the table after raising it with everyone else.
My brows pull together as I watch her.
Despite her make-up, her skin is pale. She looks exhausted, which I guess isn’t all that unusual after a hangover from hell, but it sure doesn’t help settle any of my concerns right now.
