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A half-birthday party.
I didn’t even know that was a thing.
I scratched the side of my face with my middle finger as Bastian stared at me from his seat across from me.
He cocked a brow up. “Real mature.”
So far, it’d been just me and Bastian to arrive.
Miss Luna, the sweet Italian lady with the graying hair and chaotic choice of wardrobe, had left as soon as she’d finished setting up, giving Tessie a parting kiss on the forehead on the way out.
Bastian and I had been painfully civil since Tessie was here, but she’d left for the bathroom ten minutes ago and hadn’t returned.
My eyes dipped to the unicorn tattoo on his cheek. Tessie had planted it on his face the second the party had begun, and I couldn’t take him seriously since.
The monster brought to his knees by an eight-year-old girl.
Who would have thought?
“I see that look on your face, and I can assure you I am no less inclined to make your life at L’Oscurità hellish with or without this ridiculous temporary tattoo on my cheek.”
My lips quirked up, and I didn’t bother hiding my amusement.
“Sure.” I paused a beat. “Interesting choice of words. Hellish. Do they let unicorns into hell?”
He ignored me.
“What I wonder is why,” I continued. “Why would you need to make my life a living hell? Do I bother you? I know you’re insufferable, but you’re more respectful with everyone than you are with me. Why is that?”
I shouldn’t have asked that.
In undercover work, the only reason to get this close—to draw this much attention to myself—is if I have plans to sleep with the mark. I didn’t.
With Bastian… I had this sinking feeling, if I were to sleep with him, I’d be ruined.
I wanted to say I’d never consider it.
I wanted to claim I had enough self-preservation to tamp my lust.
But I knew, if he were to make the first move, I’d give in.
Not because I had a duty to the bureau but because the attraction between us was the most palpable thing I’d ever felt. It was only luck that it’d benefit my job.
The bureau loved its honeypots, and I stood in a place where I had an opportunity to discover my real self for the first time in my life.
The only thing stopping me was him.
Bastiano Romano was a truly awful person.
I had so many firsts to give, and I couldn’t give them to someone like him.
He studied me before answering.
“Perhaps they’ve earned my respect.”
“Avery Adams, the guy who wears velcro shoes on his days off because he struggles tying them, has earned more respect than I have?”
“A pity hire.” He shrugged. “Then again, so were you.”
