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“Mrs. Salvatore, this is my daughter, Anna.”
“And it’s Cian, Dillon,Cian. How many times must I tell you to call me that?” She shook her head and came toward me.
But one nervous glance at Mr. Salvatore said dad wouldnevercall her that. It was all too familiar, all too smacking of the lack of respect.
“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” The woman grasped me and wrenched me against her, sliding strong arms around me. “You didn’t tell me she was this pretty, Dillon. Beauty and brains, too?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks as she hugged me then pulled away. “We have to introduce her to Finley.”
“He’s busy,” her husband growled, his happy smile hardening.
“Too busy to make a new friend?” She gave me a wink.
But my bladder was screaming now, spasming in painful clenches. “Your bathroom.” I looked into her eyes. “Please.”
“Dominic, this girl is almost bursting, what kind of a host are you?” she snapped, but there was nothing serious in her tone. She was all smiles, all winks. “A grumpy one, it seems.”
One wave of his massive hand and Dominic Salvatore muttered, dismissing me without a glance. “Down the hall and to the left.”
“Thank you.” I tried to smile.
“Go,” she directed, jerking her head toward the door as she swept around her husband’s desk. “And when you come back, maybe we can find that son of mine, goodness knows what he's getting up to.”
“My Irish Princess,” Dominic murmured, swallowing her in an embrace.
Stars glinted in his eyes when he looked at her. It was the kind of love I hoped for one day, the kind I'd dreamed of. I was betting no one else made that underworld boss melt like a damn candy bar in the sun. But she did, and she laughed while she did it.
Dad just looked away, embarrassed, as she ran her fingers through Dominic's thinning hair and I hurried for the door.
Her throaty laugh carried along the hall as I stepped out of the doorway and almost ran into the bodyguard.
“Need to pee,” I forced through clenched teeth and took off at a hurried walk.
Down the hall and to the left. Down the hall and to the left. Down the hall and to the left.I turned the corner and ran into a wall. A wall with a very nice painting, but that didn’t help the cramping in my insides. I kept up the slow jog, turning, hurrying. Panic set in as I started to turn left and right in my attempt to find a bathroom in that maze. Why couldn’t rich people have a damn map at the front door?
A dark walnut door waited at the end of a very long hallway. I all but sprinted for the thing, punched through the door, and stumbled into the tiled sanctuary, my hands already fumbling with the button of my jeans. One slam of the door, and I was yanking down my jeans, and plonking my ass on the seat. Relief swept through me with a shudder as I unleashed a torrent. I waited, closed my eyes and breathed, before wiping and flushing.
The mirror lights were harsh and unforgiving. I washed my hands, dried them, and strode from the bathroom and into the hall, trying to trace my way back. Numbers I was good at, remembering directions, not so much. I walked and turned, finding myself more lost than ever, until a familiar door waited and the low drone of voices beckoned.
“I’m sorry I took so long,” I apologized as I bore down on the handle and strode through the doorway.
Thethudof a fist on flesh was followed by a whimper. Blood was all I saw, that and the wide, terrified stare of a gagged man kneeling on the floor, his face a mess of blood.
“For fuck's sake,” the guy standing in front of him took one look at me and roared. “Who the fuck is she?”
I lowered my gaze to his bloody knuckles.
“Julius!”the attacker roared, making me flinch.
They moved fast, faster than I could track. The heavy thudding of boots echoed in the space as I was dwarfed by the biggest, baddest looking men I’d ever seen. They surrounded me, glowering and snarling, all white teeth and savage stares. My bladder gave a tremble, thank god I’d just been or I would’ve peed on the spot.
The whisper of hinges came behind me and a soft commanding tone followed. “And who do we have here?” I spun and lifted my gaze, finding deep brown eyes and a chilling stare. One that was eerily familiar.
“Well?” he demanded softly, striding between the pillars of muscle.
They moved for him, taking a step backwards so he could come closer.
He was gorgeous, gorgeousandrich, by the looks of the rings on his fingers. He was near my age, maybe a little older, without the cockiness of the jocks I'd known in high school. His black t-shirt showed off a hard body honed by many hours at the gym. There was a surety about him, a quiet carefulness that spoke of power.
