This felt…oddly like a date.
Not that I had much experience in those matters.
“Sure,” I gulped.
I held out my palm. Ivan tapped the box, and little nuggets of something sweet rolled onto my hand. There were almost more than I could hold.
He retreated again. I took a deep breath and continued to read, popping candy absently into my mouth. Piece by piece, not even tasting the sugar.
The climactic moment of the ball, where the vampire king chose the outcast witch to dance with him in front of the court, sucked me back into the book. Her dress was copper, highlighting her soft brown skin. She was trying her best to give off a dark energy, but it couldn’t match that of the bloodsucker. Wicked words brushed against the shell of her ear, hot and tempting.
“You dropped one.” Ivan’s fingers were in my lap, pinching a piece of chocolate.
The mental image of the fantasy ball snapped from my mind. It was impossible to deny the excitement in my chest. It’d been years since I was in this position, and I was never good at flirting.
Ivan brought the candy to my mouth. I let him slip it inside. His finger brushed over my bottom lip. The touch could have been construed as accidental, but we both knew it wasn’t.
When he pulled back, I resisted the urge to squirm. This man was intense. There was no doubt in my mind he was here to play with me.
“Read your book,” he murmured.
I turned my head, and my stupid heart skipped at the devastating smile on his lips.
I wasn’t sure what I’d done to catch the eye of this creature of the underworld. But for the briefest of moments, trapped in the dark theater, I couldn’t bring myself to mind. Later, I knew I would lecture myself about the insanity of letting my emotions be caught like this.
Chapter 5 – Ivan
Mancini:You’re sick. Stay home today.
Me:I feel perfectly healthy but thank you for your concern.
Mancini:Going near my family is bad for your health. You’re already at risk for a deadly illness.
Me:Good thing I drank my OJ this morning.
Mancini:I mean it. Don’t come.
I didn’t leave the theater until I secured an invitation to the Wednesday morning farmer’s market. That choice was threefold. The kid was surprisingly fun to be around. He spent a portion of the middle of the film sitting next to me, jabbering about film. I didn’t understand half of what he whispered, but his attention was an interesting relief. I liked kids, but I didn’tforesee a future where I had any more of my own. Second, the invitation was another excuse to be near the mesmerizing flower, who brought a book to the movies and proceeded to drive me crazy with each accidental touch. I wanted to be around her again, spend more time studying her and peeling back the layers that I’d only begun to sense existed. She wasn’t shy and timid as she had first come off. There was a depth to her personality that intrigued me.
But finally, and this was the icing on the cake, interacting with Mancini’s family pissed the don off.
He glared at me when Brady made the offer. The kid didn’t realize the landmine of social interactions he’d detonated. And I was here for the blast.
His mother, on the other hand, did. Poppy tried to explain to Brady that I had work, just like Mancini.
“I’m nothing like Cousin Sandro,” I told the kid and promptly agreed to meeting them Wednesday morning.
I left the theater and chuckled the whole way back to my kingdom over the triple victory.
I half expected the Italian goons to catch me in the parking lot as I emerged from my vehicle. The knife in my hand was ready to teach them a lesson, but much to my disappointment, they didn’t show.
Sheathing the blade, I jogged over to the entrance, spying the duo I was looking for. Signora Mancini was with them, along with two burly guards.
The reigning lady of the Italian mob shot a glance at me. Her eyes widened and lips pressed in a thin line. One of her guards was already on his phone, tapping on the screen.
Storm’s rolling in.And trouble was brewing.
“Howdie, partner,” I laughed, stopping and squatting before the half pint. He was something, decked out in blue jeans, a beltbuckle, boots, and a tan hat on top. “I didn’t know you were a cowboy.”
