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I clench my jaw as I wriggle into the jeans. They’re so tight they’re like a second skin, and the knowledge that someone had them picked out specifically for me floods me with self-consciousness. “You know, it’s funny,” I muse, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, “my parents said the exact same thing.”
Tristan is silent for a long moment. “Maybe they were on to something.”
“Maybe they were.”
I look away from him as I fluff my hair and struggle into the shoes—it’s been a while since I’ve worn heels, and I’ll be lucky if I don’t trip and break my neck, but I have to admit, I look the part as I glance in the full-length mirror. The whole outfit practically screams, “I have expensive taste” and “don’t fuck with me”: basically the ideal combo for a female mafia boss. There’s something strange about seeing myself like this, something both insanely scary and insanely right, like everything else I’ve done so far has been leading me to this moment.
And even with his back to me, Tristan still looks like he’s ready to explode.
I sigh. “Look,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, “I think we may have gotten off to a bad start. But if we’re going to work together—and based on what Theo said last night, that seems like a strong possibility—we’re going to have to be able to play nice. You can turn around.”
“Oh, I can play nice,” Tristan replies, shifting to face me, and I swallow at the double-meaning, keenly aware of the way his frosty blue eyes drift up my figure, somehow both calculating and smoldering at the same time. “I just don’t see why I should trust my life—and the lives of my best friends—to an inexperienced little girl.”
I bristle. What the hell is this guy’s game, anyway? “Little girl? God, why am I the one apologizing for being an ass, anyway? You’re acting like I did something to piss you off.”
“It’s not what you did,” Tristan snaps, taking a step toward me. “It’s what you’re capable of doing.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, closing the distance between us so I can level him with a defiant stare.
“It means,” Tristan says coldly, his eyes not leaving mine, “if you fuck up, it’s not just your life on the line. It’s all of our lives.”
I suck in a breath, suddenly realizing how close we’ve gotten to one another. I can practically feel the heat radiating off his lean body, and the smell of him floods my nostrils: soap and toothpaste, with the distant scent of fresh, chic cologne overlaying it. For some reason, my mind goes racing back to my first encounter with Theo, leaving me reeling in confusion. I shouldn’t be left this off-balance by someone I’ve just met. Not with Theo in the picture, and especially not when the someone in question is not only gorgeous, but a complete and total asshole.
“I guess I’ll just have to not fuck up then,” I say finally, my heart beating more quickly than I’d like.
I tell myself it’s anger and stand my ground, even as Tristan gives a cool chuckle that I feel all the way from my chest to the pit of my stomach. “We’ll see, Mrs. Emmerico,” he says, and then he turns to go. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room, and he doesn’t look back.
I’m more than a little thrown off by the time I wander down to the kitchen, passing bodyguards, assistants, and other lower-level operators as I go. This place isn’t a mansion; it’s a freaking fortress.
The smell of food draws me to the kitchen, where Liam is operating what must be the world’s most high-tech espresso machine. He looks up when I enter the room, his easygoing smile faltering at the sight of me, and I don’t miss the way his eyes wander in that fraction of a second, his muscles tensing as he takes in the sight of me. But then his grin is back, broader than it was before, and as weird as my encounter with Tristan left me feeling, Liam sets me completely at ease. “Glad you’re out of that hospital gown,” he says as he tosses a hand towel over his shoulder like a professional.
“Is that right?” I ask, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.
“What can I say?” Liam asks, shooting me a wink that makes my cheeks heat up. “Call me old-fashioned, but the whole ‘recently-escaped-hospital-patient’ look didn’t really seem like your thing.”
“Damn right,” I say, laughing.
Liam holds up an empty coffee mug. “Need a caffeine fix?”
“God, yes.” I slide into one of the bar stools at the center island. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.”
“Or shot,” Liam points out. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”
“It’s funny,” I reply. “After everything last night, that kind of already feels like old news.”
“I bet.” He turns to the espresso machine and starts to whip me up a cappuccino, and I can’t help but notice the way his muscles move, the total control and powerful strength that he exudes all at once. Despite the playful banter, I can tell he’s a man who’s dangerous enough to take what he wants… and not afraid to do just that when the cards are down.
A shiver goes down my spine.
“So…” I say as Liam turns back around, setting the coffee in front of me in one fluid movement.
“So.” He props his hands against the counter, a lock of blond hair falling momentarily into his eyes, and I’m struck by the sudden urge to reach out and brush it out of his face… only to realize what a crazy fucking thing that is to think about. Crazy, and inappropriate. God, what’s wrong with me today? Theo said these are his best friends, men he would lay down his life for, and I’m sitting here ogling them like a starstruck schoolgirl.
It’s wrong. And more dangerous than that, it’s a distraction.
“So,” I echo. “What’s on the agenda for the day?”
“Well, first we’ll give you the rundown of the business operations,” Liam says. “We’ll need Tristan around for that, so I’m sure it’ll be a whale of a time.”
