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I clear my throat. “Thanks. For—erm, you know. Coming.”
“That’s a first. You thanking me for coming.” He lowers his scarf, so I see he’s smirking.
Then he throws his hat and glasses to his lap, and my breath catches in my throat.
I wasn't prepared to see him now.
I wasn’t prepared to see him ever, to be fair. Even the thought of eventually having to attend my sister’s wedding with him sent my heart into a frenzy. There are several reasons why. None of which are sane.
The thing about Alessandro is, I know he’s a monster. I know he could kill, maim, destroy, steal, lie, and do anything in between to get what he wants. But sadly none of that changes the fact that my body likes what he can do to it. He’s not only my poison, he’s a drug: terrible for me, my health, my sanity, but I’ve had a hit, and it’s impossible to deny the temptation.
Addicts never truly recover. They just stop drinking, smoking, using, by staying away from the source of their addiction.
That’s what I’ve successfully done for four years.
“So, London,” he says cheerfully. “How do you like it?”
I stare at him like he sprouted a second head. We’re doing small talk?
We’ve never, ever done small talk.
“Did you have a personality transplant?” I check.
He looks away from the road long enough to smirk at me. “I see you’ve grown sassier. I like it, poison.”
“You call her poison, too!” Bella says, popping her head between the front seats.
Thank fuck.
“Not very original, I know. But I like it. It suits her. She gets under your skin, like poison ivy.”
“Good to know I’m a slightly irritating plant.”
“You’ve certainly always given me an itch to scratch,” he replies, not missing a beat.
Apparently, as well as a personality transplant, he’s grown very fond of adding innuendos to everything he says.
“Sis in the car,” Bella reminds us. “If you want to make babies, wait until I’m not there to be traumatized.”
“You make Nic happy. I doubt much traumatizes you,” Less says, before glancing back at me. “You still haven’t replied.”
“Oh, yeah. London.” I shrug. “Well, you’ve been, haven’t you?”
“Of course. But I wondered what secret appeal I might have missed for it to keep you away for so long.”
“No megalomaniac assholes.”
The moment I say it, I regret it. I made a point of not telling anyone that Less was my main reason for staying away, because if my family had known, they would have done their best to convince me that just one man shouldn’t have me running out of the country.
But he’s not just one man. He’s Less.
My sister merely chuckles, unsurprised.
I guess I haven’t been that great at keeping my secrets—at least from her.
“I happen to know for a fact there are several megalomaniac assholes in London. I’m in contact with many.”
“Never came across any as bad as the ones over here.”
