As fucking if.
“I’m sure I can figure it out,” I purr as I immediately sink one ball, then a second and third.
Drew’s friend swallows and then looks back at the screen.
That’s what I thought. As easy as it is to stroke a guy's ego, it’s equally as easy to shatter it.
“Wow, you look hot doing that,” Drew says. They’re all football players. Five of his friends are standing around, drinking and watching the league they haven’t yet managed to reach.
I bat my eyelashes and let my nails delicately drag over his chest as I walk past him to take a sip of my drink. He's all but drooling. Too easy. As they always are. It lacks in challenge, but gets me exactly what I want and need—a distraction.
I’m still reeling from my recent discovery about a certain fucking roommate. I’m furious with myself for ever letting him into my home. I knew he wasn’t fucking normal, but akiller?
Then again, who am I to judge?
I light a cigarette and watch Drew quickly talk strategy with one of his friends as to how he should proceed with his next shot. I try not to roll my eyes.
I judge Dante for being a killer, which is a natural response. And yet I think about when we were curled up on my couch, questioning how someone so bloodthirsty could also be the type of person to bring home fucking Thai food and check my temperature. He does my laundry, for fuck's sake. Makes sure the fridge and cupboards are full. He’s more like a nanny or domesticated house cat than a ruthless killer.
But I can see it, imagine it. I saw the crazed look in his eye when he got excitedabout explaining who he actually is, as if he could finally be seen and heard.
I believe him when he says he’ll kill anyone I sleep with, but there’s no way for him to know where I am now, and I need to get him out of my system. The moment I fuck someone else, I'll move on, just like I have with every other person I’ve slept with. He’ll only ever be a man I had sex with, and that will be the end of it. His infatuation will wear off, and I’ll be free to deal with my own shit, no longer being consumed by thoughts and reminders of him.
I internally growl, irritated that, yet again, amongst all the chaos in my mind—trying to figure out my next collection for the art exhibit, and how to best combat Meredith—Dante is still what comes to the forefront. I just can’t compartmentalize him like everything else, and it’s eating me alive.
“Thinking about me?” The question is whispered over my shoulder.
I turn in his direction so quickly, that he has to steady the glass in my hand so it doesn’t spill on his nice suit. I note the Rolex on his wrist before looking into those dark-brown eyesthat trap me, that dangerous smirk pressing that perfect dimple into his face.
How the fuck did he find me?
“I was wondering where you went. Making new friends, I see,” he says, taking in the group of men who are suddenly very aware of his presence.
“The bar's not open, douchebag. Who the fuck are you?” Drew accusingly points a pool stick at Dante.
“I'm making sure my little menace isn’t getting herself into trouble,” Dante says with a lethal edge to his tone.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Drew demands.
“Do you know this guy?” another one of them asks. Oh fuck, this is bad. They’re all much bigger than Dante. He’s tall and lean, but not built like a fridge, like most of these guys. But it’s not Dante I’m worried about.
“He’s a cousin,” I’m quick to say.
“The kissing kind,” Dante tacks on, but I can tell he's far from amused. He’s fucking furious.
“What kind of sick fuck are you? You better fuck off now while you have the chance,” another one of them says. And, suddenly, all six of the men are stalking toward Dante as he steps in front of me, casually grabbing my pool stick.
“I told you, my little rabbit, if you run, I will chase. I just didn’t expect you to get up to no good so quickly. I couldn’t be prouder.” He snaps the pool stick over his knee, and I flinch, growing cold as I watch in disbelief as he smirks with six giants closing in on him.
This is all just a fucking game to him.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper, because I’m not sure what Dante is capable of.
“Why? It’s the thing that comes most naturally to me. And you did this.” He shoots me a pointed look over his shoulder. “Itold you no one else was to touch you until I’ve had my fill. I’m not done with you yet,Cattivella.”
One of the men lingers back cautiously. “I don’t know about this, guys. Maybe we should just leave it,” he says, and I realize he might be the only one thinking with his brain instead of brawn.
“It’s one guy, Jackson. Don’t be such a wimp,” Drew chastises.
