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But what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Pushing down the guilt, I focus on her like a man bent on appreciating a good-looking woman in front of him. Like a man who didn’t take her brother’s life.
Her face is slimmer than it was when I last saw her, her dark eyes magnified behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses that somehow only manage to make her look sexier. Her curves are exaggerated by the knee-length pencil skirt that’s painted onto her womanly figure, accentuating the tuck of her waist and flare of her hips. The tailored white shirt fits her perfectly, the few open buttons showcasing the shadow of her cleavage—not too much, but enough to distract a man.
That would be Carina’s intention. An intelligent woman among lust-filled men.
When I know I’m composed and no reaction will leak through, I wave my men away, and like a departing sea, they shift, and she stands before me. Red paints her lips, and the corner of her mouth, along with a dark brow, rises.
“Luca. It’s been a minute.”
I’m tempted to smile at her humor. It’s been years—five long, torturous years—but I keep my features neutral.
“I hear you have been off building an empire.” I take a step toward her. I want to ask what brought her back to the streets of New York, but I figure I’ll find out soon enough. There are few secrets that stay hidden among the Families for long.
Carina doesn’t step away from my advance, reminding me of one of the reasons I loved her. She knows her worth and was always brave—braver than she was smart, most days. But with me, she shed some of that self-assured skin and allowed me to see the girl behind the mask.
A girl whose heart I broke, I remind myself. And damaged my own in the process. I’m not sure I have one anymore, but if I did, she would surely smash it to bits out of spite if I let her in again.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I got bored. What can I say?” Humor flashes in her deep brown eyes.
Her gaze is wary. Clearly, she isn’t the naive girl I remember. Humor remains, but along with it, a tell. Carina is lying—it’s in the way she tilts her neck. So, she didn’t get bored and come back; something else has brought her home.
“Hmm” is all I say, and I glance around the restaurant to see the direction she came from. A woman’s purse sits at a booth at the windows that line the front of the restaurant. I can only assume the occupant was Carina. I’ve stopped by nearly every table so far, a customary politeness that I must show while hiding my absolute dislike for the role I must play.
The vicious-looking beast at Carina’s hip sits and looks up at me with a dark gaze nearly as intelligent as its mistress’s. Her fingers stroke its head lightly, and it preens, a long pink tongue lolling out from a mouth filled with teeth that could snap a man’s wrist like a twig. “Nice dog.”
She smiles. “Baccio. It means—“
“Kiss.“ I run my hand across the stubble covering my chin. “I remember. Shall we?” I hold out my arm and direct her back to her booth. It’s really the perfect place to sit. It gives her a full view of all the people who come and go, with easy access to the exit. Each one is as powerful as the next, but none as powerful as me.
“Have them bring us coffee,” I order one of my men.
I pop open the button on my suit jacket and slide into the booth, Carina’s dog plopping down on the floor opposite me. My back is to the rest of the room, but for once, I don’t mind. My sole focus will be Carina, who sits across from me. Her early brunch is still on the table. “Don’t let me interrupt your lunch,” I say. It’s terrible of me, but I wouldn’t mind sitting here watching her mouth work a piece of bread. Even at seventeen, that mouth had been capable of doing fantastic things to my cock and body. I want to shift in the seat to stop my growing erection, but I hold still.
Carina glances down at the bread, picks up a piece, and examines it between painted nails before she drops it. “I’m finished.” Her gaze lands back on me, full of knowledge. I wonder if she’s thinking about all the times we fucked. “You look like you’ve done well for yourself,” she says after a moment.
“Do I?” I fire back.
A smile starts to play on her lips but falls flat. She once was one of the few people who really knew me, but already I think she can see I’m not the same man, and she’s not the same girl I remember. She’s very much a woman.
“I have heard whispers.” She’s careful with her words.
I sit back and wait for her to speak again. She bites her bottom lip.
The waiter arrives and places a coffee in front of me and then gives one to Carina. He doesn’t speak, and I keep staring at her until he leaves.
“What kind of whispers?” I ask. I’m sure it’s the usual, but I want to hear the words from her lips.
For a second, she seems almost uncomfortable but forces a quick smile before touching the medallion necklace around her neck. The cynical side of me wonders if it’s an intentional move designed to divert my attention to her cleavage, but she drops her hand onto the table. “I don’t recall you being so serious.” She’s backpedaling, an effect I often have on other people but not normally with her.
But things change.
“Don’t hold back,” I nudge.
Holding back never was her thing. She never did so when I buried myself inside her. I explored every inch of her body, and right now, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. I only saw her ass in that pencil skirt for a moment as we walked to the table, but I remember how perfect it was as I pounded against it years ago. This time I have to shift ever so slightly to try to give some relief to my raging hard-on. I haven’t felt this turned on since I was a fucking kid.
It makes it hard to focus. What the hell were we discussing?
“I won’t.” She grins and reaches down. Beneath the table’s level, she stretches to do something—scratch her ankle or adjust her shoe. “I’ve heard you’re Untouchable.” A moment later, her foot touches the inside of my thigh.
