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“You’re following me?”
He makes a noncommittal gesture, grinning. “I asked Malcolm for your address.”
“Oh my god, you didn’t.”
“He thinks I want to fuck you. Which is true, but not the reason I came to hunt you down.”
“Are you insane?”
“Probably, a little bit. So yes, I did follow you from your apartment, but I’m not following you, if that makes sense.”
“No, it doesn’t, not at all.” I lift my wine to my lips. I’m sweating and trembling and my head’s pounding. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you do enough already?”
“I think you mean to say, thank you, Gavino, for saving my life.”
“No, thanks.”
“You understand what Malcolm would’ve done to you if he’d caught you in his office alone, don’t you?” He leans closer, head tilted, smile dissipating. “You might not like getting your hair pulled—although I think you did—but I promise you would’ve hated getting your teeth ripped out by Malcolm’s thugs even more.”
A chill runs down my spine and I stare at my hands on the bar. “All right, so you saved me from him, but you also got me fired. I’m not sure it matters anymore.”
I feel him studying me. Giovanna comes over and leans against the bar. “Can I get you something? Or are you bothering this young lady here?”
“Whiskey, neat, please. And no, I don’t think I’m bothering her. Am I bothering you, Jeanie?”
I look up at Giovanna, hesitate, then shake my head. “No, he’s fine.”
“Right.” Giovanna gives him a sharp frown. “I know guys like you. Married one or two in my day. You’re all trouble.”
Gavino laughs and shakes his head. “You don’t even know who I am.”
“Don’t need to.” She walks off to get his drink.
“I like her,” he says, still smiling. “I see why you come here.”
“What do you want?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Giovanna returns, slides the glass to him, and he drops a small pile of cash on the bar. The old woman frowns at it, but the money disappears quicker than I’ve ever seen her move.
She walks off without a word and Gavino turns to me, sips his drink, and leans on an elbow.
“I felt bad that I got you fired. I thought to myself, that girl was interesting. I should track her down and apologize.”
“Why would you do that? I’m nobody.”
“You don’t kiss like nobody.”
My cheeks turn pink and I stare at my wine glass. “You didn’t need to shove your hand between my legs.”
“Made it seem realer. Malcolm’s a paranoid son of a bitch, and for good reason. I had to sell it.” He leans closer. “You sold it too. I was almost convinced you liked it.”
“Stop,” I say, shaking my head. “Enough, okay? You found me. You saved me and got me fired. You don’t have to torture me on top of it, okay?”
He lets out a breath. “You think I came all this way to torture you?”
“I can’t think of another reason.”
His eyes narrow and he looks at me appraisingly. I feel all the small hairs on my neck and arms stand up. He’s studying me, trying to read me, like he’s drinking me in with his gaze and I feel split open, pinned down, splayed, and taken. I feel him bearing down on me like a train and I don’t know if I can get out of the way in time, or if he’ll sweep me up and run me down.
