The Irish bastard doesn’t look worried or set down his glass whenI approach, but I’m sure he’s as dangerous and vicious as the rest of his mob.
“Who are you?” he asks me.
I don’t dignify that with an answer.
I can tell from the rosy flush on Nina’s cheeks and the slight unsteadiness of her gaze that she’s been drinking, probably too much.
My jaw clenches so hard I think I’m going to shatter my molars as I take in her outfit.
A black leather jacket perfectly molded to her curves, unzipped to reveal her cream silk slip dress, patterned with tiny embroidered flowers. A thin belt over the dress accentuates her waist. Her dark hair swings down her back in a high ponytail, leaving the delicate curve of her neck exposed.
Fucking ravishing.
No wonder Keane is practically drooling at the sight of her, making my blood boil.
My first instinct? End him right here and fuck her in the Irish headquarters. But that would be needlessly risky, and she’d enjoy it in the end, so it wouldn’t teach her the lesson she’s begging for.
“We are leaving.”
I keep my tone even, not wanting to attract too much attention.
“You’re leaving,” she insists, shoving me towards the door. I don’t budge an inch.
Nina is not weak — her strength is what I love about her — but I’m a full two feet taller than her.
“Not without you,” I say calmly, looking around the place.
The Irish headquarters is a dive. They might not have as much cash as the Bratva, but they could pay for a cleaner so that the floor wasn’t sticky with spilled beer and whiskey.
Mercifully, the place is practically empty aside from Nina and the bastard who’s eyeing me like I’m his rival.
He’s asking for blood and he’s going to get it.
“I was having a nice time,” she insists. She bites her lip. That’s always been her tell.
Lies, secrets, pretenses. They’ve been ingrained in me since I was a child.
Nina is the opposite. She can’t call in sick — even when she is —without feeling a rush of guilt. Her father might have been abusive, but he was also obsessed with honesty. Like a mirror version of my family, where the opposite was true. And they both ended up equally as bad as the other.
“You want to say that again like you mean it?”
“Fine.” She puts her hands on her hips, the motion only making her look more irresistible in that dress. “I want to stay here, Art. I’m on a date.”
“You heard the lady.”
The Irishman had been observing quietly, but now he steps towards me, sizing me up.
His eyes flicker back to my face nervously. I don’t think it’s my size he’s worried about — the guy is a prize fighter. It’s my pure rage that is making him nervous.
Good.
“Nina.” I fix her with a hard stare. “You go anywhere with this guy, andwhat happens to him next is on your hands.”
With a defiant smile, she takes his hand and lets him lead her towards the private rooms behind the bar.
Every muscle in my body tenses and I follow automatically.
The man turns around, puffing his chest out.
