"We're leaving," he growls.
"What? No!" I try to pull against his hold. "Sofia just went to check on Gianna. I'm not?—"
"Sofia and Gianna already left."
"What? When?" Confusion floods through me.
"Gianna still wasn't feeling great so they decided to head out. Sofia said to tell you she texted but..." His eyes flick to where my dance partner is still standing, looking confused. "You were busy."
I pull out my phone and sure enough, there's a text from Sofia from ten minutes ago:Gianna's not feeling well. We're heading out. Marco will take you home. Love you!
Guilt floods through me. I was so focused on making Marco jealous that I completely missed my friend's message.
He's already pulling me toward the exit and I'm too embarrassed to fight him anymore. Other patrons step aside as we pass, clearly sensing the tension crackling between us. Some stare outright, probably wondering if they're witnessing a domestic dispute or something more dangerous.
Marco deposits me in the back of a black SUV—of course he had backup transportation ready—and climbs into the driver's seat himself. The partition between front and back is down giving me a perfect view of his profile as he drives. His jaw is still clenched tight and his hands grip the steering wheel like he's imagining it's someone's neck.
I sink back into the leather seat and try to ignore the little thrill that runs through me. Mission accomplished—I definitely made him jealous. The question is, what happens now?
CHAPTER 15
Marco
My gripon her wrist is firm as I practically drag her up the stairs to her building. The moment we're inside her apartment, she rounds on me and yanks her arm free. Her face is flushed, eyes blazing with anger.
She's about to unleash hell on me.
Bring it, little fox.
"What the hell is your problem, Marco?"
I take my time closing the door. Lock it deliberately. Then lean against it with my arms crossed. "You."
She actually laughs—a sharp, incredulous sound. "You act like I did something wrong. I was having a drink and dancing. With my friends. In a public place. I don't need a damn leash."
Her voice gets higher with each word. I step closer, forcing her to tilt her chin up to maintain eye contact. "You weren't dancing with your friends. Your friends left and you didn't even notice because you were too busy playing games."
"I was having fun?—"
"You were being reckless." I take another step. She backs up until she hits the wall. "Not only that, you were flirting with aman who would've had you out of that club and in his car in under five minutes."
She rolls her eyes like I'm being dramatic. "You're back to being my babysitter, I see."
"No." I step even closer. Close enough that I can smell her perfume. Feel the heat radiating from her skin. "I'm the only one keeping you from making a very stupid mistake."
"A mistake?" Her laugh is bitter. "That's rich coming from you. Mr. 'You're Just a Job.' What do you care if I make mistakes?"
"I care?—"
"No, you don't." She tries to move past me but I shift my weight, blocking her path. "You care about protecting Vito's investment. About doing your duty. About maintaining your precious professional boundaries."
She's breathing hard now. Angry. Hurt.
"That's not fair," I say quietly.
"Isn't it?" She tilts her head up in challenge. "You want me. I can see it every time you look at me. But you won't do anything about it. So forgive me if I went looking for someone who actually?—"
"Don't." The word comes out rough. "Don't finish that sentence."
