Only once I’m in the safety of the guestroom do I fall apart.
17
Bullet Straight To My Heart
I sometimes wonder if you’d still be friends with me if you knew me now. — Enzo
Enzo
Fuck.
Fuck!
Her lips. Her goddamn lips. So soft. So perfect.
My fingers comb through my hair, pulling at the ends, as I replay the way they felt against mine. How she tasted.
Fuck.
How am I supposed to pretend that I don’t want todo that again? That I don’t want to claim her from the inside out?
Hearing her say it was a mistake sent a pain shooting through my chest, like a bullet straight to my heart.
Breathe.
Focus.
Forcing myself to forget the way she felt pressed against me as my tongue explored her mouth, I turn my attention back to the three profiles.
Now I know the names of the three motherfuckers who hurt her, I can start planning ways to make them pay.
I scour through information, memorizing every single detail about them, tracking their movements, learning their habits.
My phone ringing snaps me from my focus. Dante’s name lights up my screen.
“Boss,” he greets, as soon as I pick up.
“What’s up?”
“Gio wants another meeting. He says to bring your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I snap.
Laughter echoes in my ear. “Yeah, whatever you say, boss. You good to meet tomorrow night?”
“I’ll make it work. Tell him we’ll meet at the club again.”
I don’t really want to go there again with Izzy—not after what happened last time—but I also don’t invite people into my home.
“Consider it done.”
We hang up and I leave my office, finding a plate of food waiting for me on the kitchen counter with a note written in Izzy’s handwriting.
Made you some dinner. I’m getting an early night. See you in the morning.
I groan, picking up the dish and bringing it to the microwave to warm up. I really hope things don’t become awkward between us. That’s the last thing I need. I just got her back.
After eating, I crawl into bed, exhaustion weighing on me. I wish Izzy was here, her warm body pressed against mine.
