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She finally let her eyes drift to him, watching as he stepped with that confidence he wore like his skin, his body encased in a black suit, black shirt, and no tie. Everyone was wearing a tie. Morana felt a small smile lift her lips at his blatant act of rebellion, her gaze lingering on the skin of his neck and chest exposed by the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. Damn, he wore a suit well.
He didn’t stop at the door to hand over any weapons and she didn’t know if that was because he wasn’t carrying any or because he was confident enough that no one would dare check him. This wasn’t the man who had left her at her door last night and high-tailed it out of there as quickly as possible. This wasn’t even the man who had slammed her against the wall and left her with swollen lips. No, this was the man who had followed her into the bathroom of his enemy's restaurant and fucked her with his hand over her mouth. This was the man who had touched her against the wall of her father’s house. This was the man whose eyes spoke death and trailed life across her skin.
And he got her wet. Both sides of him - the lone boy she had glimpsed yesterday, the intimidating man she observed currently.
Taking another sip to cool down her rapidly heating skin, Morana observed as he headed to where Maroni stood and said something to him that made Maroni harden even more. The older man dismissed the other people around him and said something to Tristan. Tristan took out his phone and typed something, nodding back at Maroni.
And then, as though feeling her gaze, he froze.
His eyes roved around the room before coming right to her in her shadowed corner.
She expected him to take her in, to let his gaze linger on her like she had become used to, to trail those magnificent eyes across her skin and set it on fire.
He didn’t do any of it. Instead, seeing her there and seeing she was the one whose stare he'd felt, he simply looked back down at his phone, nothing about his posture changing.
What the hell?
Morana felt her body locking down as her eyes drilled holes into him, fury replacing the electricity, infusing into her blood. She was there, at a party in a place where she didn’t know anyone, and he wasn’t even giving her his eyes. Morana hadn’t realized how much she had come to rely on them, not until he deliberately withheld them from her. His eyes were the one thing he'd never held back from her. Even in their most vulnerable, brutal moments, she'd always had his eyes.
Whatever his reasons for avoiding her, she didn’t care anymore. She had exposed herself to him yesterday and then given him space. This behavior angered her. She knew he wasn’t rejecting her, just taking his time processing whatever but it still pissed her off as irrational as it was.
Stewing at him and herself for giving him that kind of power, Morana didn’t realize someone had joined her until she felt the presence of a warm body beside her. Stilling, her entire body locking, Morana turned to find the man she’d seen from her window, the man who had come alone, standing beside her while looking out at the room.
“We meet again, Ms. Vitalio,” the grave, masculine voice spoke from beside her.
Morana was about to turn to look at the man when he told her, “Don’t turn. It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Life and death?” Morana asked, sensing something dangerous.
“Yours, Ms. Vitalio,” he returned simply.
Morana looked at him in the periphery, seeing nothing but shadows. “The man from the airport.”
“Your new best friend indeed, Morana,” the man kept his voice steady. “There is something you need to know.”
Morana considered, highly intrigued but wary of him. “Stop talking in riddles.”
“Very well,” he muttered under his breath.
“Before your boyfriend looks at you and sees me,” the man remarked, slight amusement tinging his voice.
Morana almost turned at that. “You know Tristan?”
“It’s my business to know things.”
“What did you mean by being my new best friend?” Morana cut through the chase, getting straight to the point.
“The enemy of your enemy, Morana,” the man spoke quietly. The song changed to another melody. “We share common interests.”
“And what would that be?” Morana inquired, keeping her gaze on the swaying couples.
“End of Alliance.”
Morana froze at his words. Heart pounding hard, Morana whispered in his direction, “What do you mean?”
The man didn’t miss a beat of the music. Morana couldn’t feel anyone watching them, mostly because they were in the corner, shielded from the rest of the room, but her heart was racing.
“I mean I’m interested in finding out what happened twenty years ago in this city,” the man said calmly right above her ear.
