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It happens so fast. One second he’s devouring me, and the next, he gets up and stalks away.
I’m left lying on the balcony floor, blinking like an idiot.
What the hell was that?
I’m not talking about him walking away. I’m referring to the way I returned his kiss. The way I freaking loved it.
Holy shit. No.
Renzo is a killer. A criminal. A freaking mafia boss.
He kidnapped me and hurt Dad.
He killed Dr. Bentall.
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I suck in desperate breaths.
Renzo is your enemy. Never forget that. You’re just making him care, so he’ll let you go. This is all part of the plan.
Feeling calmer, I get up off the floor and head inside. I shut the sliding door, and when I walk past the living room, I find Renzo taking a sip of whiskey.
I stop and stare at the man who just kissed the ever-loving hell out of me. My eyes glide over his muscular body, theimpeccable three-piece suit, and his ruffled hair, which normally doesn’t have a hair out of place.
His features are drawn tight, and the air around him feels tense.
Renzo’s eyes flick to me, and I consider running to the safety of my bedroom.
That would defeat the purpose. Stay right where you are.
His gaze remains locked on me as he takes a sip of his drink, the sight hot and a little unnerving.
Damn, the man is heartbreakingly attractive.
And he just kissed me.
Stick to the plan. It doesn’t matter how hot he is.
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing on me as if he knows I’m up to something.
I take a step forward and gesturing in the direction of the dining room, I say, “Thanks for that.” Realizing it sounds like I’m thanking him for the kiss, I quickly add, “For saving me even though I wasn’t planning to jump.”
His voice is low and deep when he murmurs, “Twenty-seven yellow cabs?”
I shrug and take another step closer to him. “There’s not a lot for me to do here. I was just passing the time.”
When I take another step, the corner of his mouth lifts as if he’s amused. “What are you doing,topolina?”
I shake my head and feign innocence. “What do you mean?”
He takes another sip of his drink, just staring at me as I slowly inch closer as if I’m approaching a wild animal.
My stomach is a ball of nerves, but I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him.
I suck at flirting, but here goes nothing.
Reaching for the glass in his hand, I take it from him and help myself to a sip before handing it back. I need the alcohol to be brave.
Giving the man my best provocative expression, I say, “You kissed me.”
