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“You’re not an asshole,” I say.
He smirks. “But I am rich. Trust me, they’ll believe it if…”
“It’s okay. You can say it.If I’m good enough.”
“We can think of another alibi, but something tells me we won’t need to.”
“Oh, really?”
“There’s no way your voice isn’t as angelic as you are.”
I shake my head, almost as if to push away my natural reaction. I can’t stop the stupid grinning. “If I do this, will you find my mom?”
“I’m going to find her anyway,” he quickly replies.
“But itwillhelp?”
He squeezes my leg. “Stop delaying. I’ve already told you it will.”
“It’s hard to sing sitting down,” I tell him. When he reaches for the car door, I quickly say, “But I can do it.”
I don’t want anybody else to hear me. It’s going to be difficult enough doing it in front of Elio—a stranger. Yet he doesn’tfeellike as much of a stranger as he should. It must be the kissing, the steaminess.
“Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I’m not going to laugh at you,” he snarls, sounding pissed. “Sing for me, Scarlet.”
I start tapping my hand against my leg, humming softly, getting ready to make a complete fool of myself. At least I can tell myself I’m doing it for Mom.
CHAPTER10
Elio
She doesn’t have any idea how beautiful she is as she taps her leg, humming. My savage mind tries to return to earlier, when my hand was between her thighs, rubbing her to completion. The sounds she was making, but my woman deserves more than just lust. She deserves attention, too—heat of a different sort.
“I never knew I loved you,”she sings quietly, her voice shaking, her eyebrows raised as if asking me if she should keep going. I nod firmly.“I never knew who you were…”She gets more confident, letting her voice fill the car. I was right. She sounds like an angel.“How can I love a stranger? Oh, my heart is in danger…”
Her confidence increases even more, her voice getting louder, more beautiful, more perfect. I watch—the luckiest audience of one who’s ever lived—beyond enthralled.
“That was incredible,” I tell her once she’s done.
She pouts at me. I lean forward, kissing her passionately, pressing my hands down on her hips, holding her tightly, holding her with meaning. “It was perfect,” I growl. “So don’t pout at me like that. Who was the song about? Who’s thisstranger?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “That’s always been the point. I’ve never loved anybody, but I enjoy love songs. So I write them about the emotion itself. The love, not the person.”
Maybe that will change when we fall in love,I almost say, but this is already complicated enough.
“The alibi will work,” I say, “as long as you can sing in front of Mom and Dad.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t even think I’d be able to sing in front of you. With Mom’s life at risk…” She lets out a long, shaky breath. “I can do it. I have to.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” I tell her, then lean over and kiss her again.
She makes that cute moaning noise, half shock, half desire. When I start losing control—one hand sliding up her leg, the other around her waist—she puts her hand on my chest. When she pushes away, I can tell it takes some effort.
“We have to keep moving,” she says. “I can’t just leave Mom out there.”
“You’re right,” I say.
