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He nodded once, turned, and kicked the door down like it was easy. The wood splintered and broke into a bunch of pieces.
My mouth dropped open as I watched him step past the mess, wondering why he hadn’t just done that in the first place.
Chapter
Eighteen
The only thing that feels right is as wrong as it can get.
MAGGIE HALL
ARIANA DE LUCA
Since I’d met him, I noticed three things about Bastiano Romano—all of them nothing but trouble.
Firstly, when I thought I finally knew him, understood some semblance of his motives, and could at last prepare myself against him, he’d pull the rug out from under me, and I’d be back at square one.
Completely clueless.
The worst part was, I wanted to know him for reasons I loathed to admit went beyond the call of duty.
Secondly, he answered to no one but himself. Asher may have owned this restaurant, but for reasons I refused to admit, the staff responded to, respected, and admired Bastian.
He was horrible to deal with, yet for the most part, he treated his employees quite fairly and successfully ran one of the most impressive restaurants and bars in the world.
Still, the fact that he was always in control of everyone and himself disconcerted me at best.
Thirdly, Bastiano knew how attractive he was, and he used it like it was another weapon in his already impressive arsenal.
I rarely saw Bastian at the bar side of L’Oscurità, but when I did, our eyes always found one another’s, and his smoldered, searing through me and invading my space like knock-off T-shirt vendors outside a Lakers game.
But despite the fact that I’d rarely seen him lately, I felt him.
I felt him when I tutored Tessie in the break room, and she stared keenly at me with eyes identical to her brother’s.
I felt him when he stepped into the room, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up like a dog raising its hackles.
And I certainly felt him each time I hauled hundreds of pounds of ice from the basement, thanks to the right-side shift I should have never been assigned.
I should have cashed in my pick of shifts I’d won from my bet with Bastian, but I was just thankful he’d chosen to drop the questions on how I knew about Emily.
So, I lifted my last load of ice for the night, dropping it almost instantly as my back gave out.
I leaned my head forward, pressing it against the wall.
“Fuck my life.”
“There’s that can-do attitude.” Bastian’s presence flooded the room.
I forced myself not to groan. In this moment, I felt weak. Physically but also mentally. The last person who needed to see me weak was Bastiano Romano.
I kept my head facing the wall.
“I know this is normal for us—you push, and I pull, or whatever—but can you not, Mr. Romano? Just for today. Because I can’t. I just can’t.”
My shoulders and back ached, and my legs were struggling to hold my bodyweight as it was. He’d already taunted me yesterday, and if he poked the bear right now, I swore I’d bite him.
He took a step closer. “Bastian.”
