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Dante’s eyes roll. “Goomars. Mistresses. Side pieces.”
I shiver.
“So,if I were so inclined,” he growls, “don’t for a moment think that Maeve would be off the table.”
My temper flares, and my arm jerks as if to hit him. But of course, there’s no breaking free from Dante’s iron grip. I grit my teeth as he pulls me harder against his body.
“But again, I have no interest in your young aunt,” he murmurs, his eyes sizzling into mine.
“Well, better find yourself agoomar, then,” I spit. “Because your nights are going to be pretty fucking lonely with me as your wife.”
His lips curl with dark amusement. “And why is that?”
“Because they’ll be spentalone?”
Dante’s lips stay curled at the corners, like he finds this funny. His brow cocks. “On the contrary, I’ll be having you any time I want.”
I bark a cold laugh. “That isn’t happening in a million years, creep. I’m quite fine in my own bed.”
“It’s not a discussion, it’s a deal-point.”
“The fuck it is?—”
“Dante.”
The boiling tension bubbling and frothing between us drops back to a low simmer as the man steps next to us and clears his throat. Dante turns, his hands suddenly dropping from me as he steps back.
It’sbullshitthat what I feel when he does so isn’t relief.
It’s the total opposite.
“What is it?”
The man is just as tall and broad-shouldered as Dante; he’s a little rough around the edges, but still immensely handsome. After a second I recognize him as the man who came out to meet my car when I was pretending to be Maeve the day of the signing.
“There’s something you might want to address.” The man coughs and lowers his voice. “Silvio is here.”
Dante’s jaw clenches as he nods. “Okay. Thanks, Lorenzo.” He swivels his gaze back to me, his eyes simmering. “To be continued.”
“Ornot?—”
He’s already marching off with his goon, leaving me undecided if I’m more pissed athimfor being such an arrogant tyrant, or atmyselffor attaching myself to him.
…Not to mention, the physical sensations being near said tyrant brings out in me.
I glare at Dante’s back as he strides through the crowd with Lorenzo.
Then I whirl and march across the room, flashing zero-effort smiles at people I don’t know when they congratulate me on an engagement I don’t give a shit about. I don’t usually drink much. But tonight, I’m gladly making an exception. I order a gin and tonic at the bar and take a large sip as I turn to survey the room.
Gabriel is, of course, being Gabriel, glad-handing his way through the crowd. Granted, a lot of these people are clients of Crown and Black. But it also wouldn’t shock me if Gabriel leaves here tonight with one or twonewclients.
Alistair, however, is nowhere to be seen. I’m about to go try and find him, since he looked like a ticking time bomb earlier, when suddenly, I feel a presence next to me.
“I suppose congratulations are in order.”
I turn with a jolting sensation. Massimo Carveli. My mind flashes back to earlier when we first walked in and Gabriel pointed him out to me. I also remember my brother calling this man a “fucking lunatic”.
He’s standing next to the same blonde girl from before—his wife, Eloise LeBlanc. Pretty, but scared-looking. His hand is still wrapped around the back of her neck in a really menacing way.
