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“What did you do?” I ask as a cold feeling of dread builds up in me. My dildo is still being held like a torch at the Olympics before I quickly put it under the covers again.
“Oh, I did nothing. You said you would do it better than me anyway.”
Fin is looking sexy as hell, while I’m hungover. I want to sink back into bed and never wake up. Instead, I gulp down my mortification and mask it before he has a chance to recognize it.
I sit up straighter and realize I’m completely naked. “How much did you see?” I question, standing fully naked as I head toward my clothes that are now folded on top of a chair nearby.
“More than I’m seeing right now.”
I refuse to pause, but my eyes squeeze shut before I grab one of my longer shirts. He’s still standing behind me, and I look over my shoulder.
“I hope you enjoyed the show.” I cringe at my own words. For the life of me, why did it have to be Fin? I slip the long T-shirt over my head. Then it dawns on me. When I snuck away, he was passed out.
Pivoting, I walk toward him. “When I left last night, you were sleeping.” I poke him in his strong, chiseled chest.
He gives me his evil smile that looks way too charming. “Now, why would I be sleeping?”
Oh fuck.
“Because you were tired?” I offer.
He steps toward me, my finger falling from his chest as I retreat. There’s nothing left of his smile, and I wish I had it back. The thing about our lives is trust never happens. It’s like a rare blood moon on a Friday the thirteenth.
“So, you thought you would poison me?” His hand reaches behind me and pulls me in by the small of my back. My heart is beating rapidly. I wish my head wasn’t throbbing so I could remember the details of the night better.
“I knew it wouldn’t kill you. I’d seen you drink it before. Stop being dramatic.”
His piercing glare renders me motionless in his grasp. Fin’s always had this impressive intimidation factor that has everyone around him slinking into the shadows. I never felt the wrath of it until now. He is pure muscle, each and every one of his scars painted on his skin. He thinks they show weakness, when others see them as strength. Not many live with a scar from him, and it’s because he never allows them to survive.
“We may not see eye to eye anymore, but I thought we still had somewhat of a loyalty to each other. You know, the type that was silently stated that we wouldn’t stab each other in the back.”
There is a glimmer of hurt in his eyes before it vanishes. Now, I feel like shit. I never meant it that way. “It wasn’t like that. I’m not some bird you can cage. We both know this. If I feel like my wings are being clipped, I go stir crazy. I had to get out, and you wouldn’t let me.”
He wouldn’t get it. No man in the mafia would. I’ve had to work my entire life to get to where I am. I have to be three times better than everyone else for them to tolerate me. Not accept—but tolerate. I lose contracts only because I’m a woman. I know this because I’m better than almost any man.
“Us being here has nothing to do with clipping your wings. You should know that I loved that about you. Never in my life have I ever tried to discourage you. I’m insulted you would think of me like that.”
Fin always did have my back… until he didn’t. He made me believe we could be a team. I thought we had trust.
“I’m not the one who destroyed our trust,” I say aloud.
His lips flatten. “It wasn’t all me either, Luna.” He takes a step back, and the warmth that surrounded me diminishes as he walks away. “You also wouldn’t beg me to hate you unless you felt guilty for something.”
My fingers dig into my hair, my long shirt coming up to my pussy. The slight breeze has me remembering I need something under my shirt. Turning around, I see my panties and bra from last night on the floor. Grabbing fresh panties, I step into them before dragging them up my legs.
“Why the fuck can’t I remember last night?” I ask, frustrated. He should be the one with no recollection, or at least sleeping by the toilet.
“Max Mancini,” he says with malice. Max will be my brother-in-law very soon. From our interactions, I like the guy and don’t understand where Fin’s hatred is coming from.
“What the hell does Max have to do with us?” I ask, confused. I feel like he’s talking in riddles that I should understand.
“He fucking drugged your drink, making you an easy target. I was the one who protected you. Not him. Me.” He points to his chest that is rising at an alarming rate.
“He’s a friend,” I recoil and immediately see my mistake. Fin stomps toward me. His large figure looms over my small frame. My pulse rapid fires, and each nerve in my body is ready to react.
“Am I a friend?” he growls.
I gulp, unsure how to answer.Yes? No?
