Marco didn’t look amused. He was still holding the bracelet between two fingers, his patience thinning by the second.
“Take your bracelet, Valentina.”
The way he said it almost made me want to refuse again.Almost.
He didn’t look confused, either, which meant this wasn’t something hedid. Other women weren’t leaving things behind in his car. He didn’t make a habit of driving them home.
Interesting.
I took it and slipped it back onto my wrist, my fingers lingering over the clasp. It was warm from his touch. That shouldn’t have mattered, but my skin prickled anyway.
He watched me carefully, like he was trying to decide whether or not I was fucking with him just to amuse myself.
I was.
His attention fell between my fingers, to the cigarette, then back to my face.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered, even though I hadn’t actually said thank-you.
I smirked.
I knew he’d catch that.
I took another slow drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke curl between my lips before he took it back. He didn’t bring it to his mouth, just rolled it between his fingers, jaw ticking.
“You want to come inside?” I asked sweetly. “Or are you afraid Max’s PI is hiding in my kitchen cabinets?”
“Max isn’t a creep, Valentina,” he said finally. “He’s not keeping an eye on your personal life. Just on Sebastian’s.”
My throat tightened. If that were true, Max would soon find out I’d had an encounter with Sebastian half an hour ago. Which was fantastic, really, because obviously, my life wasn’t complicated enough. I clearly needed another reason for Max to tighten his chokehold on my nonexistent social life.
I could practically hear the lecture already. How could I be so reckless? Why couldn’t I just behave for five whole minutes?Honestly, you’d think I’d robbed a bank or something, not just had an ill-advised conversation on a sidewalk.
I must’ve looked flustered or concerned, because Marco’s eyes fell in annoyance as he took a deep breath. “If you’re with them, he’ll know.”
I smirked slowly. “Is thatwhy you’rereallyhere? To check if I’m screwing the enemy.”
“I don’t care who you screw.”
Right.
Sure he didn’t.
Marco liked to pretend he was above it all, immune to whatever messy drama I got myself tangled up in, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all me. He cared plenty. Not because he was concerned about my personal life, but because if I slipped up, if I got too close to the Callahans again, he’d have a front-row seat to whatever shit show followed. He’d have to deal with the paperwork, the fallout, and the endless lectures from Max.
So yeah, he did care, just not about me. He cared about damage control, about making sure Sebastian and his family stayed as far away as possible.
“No?” I asked, indulging him. “You sure you don’t want to go check?”
He watched me carefully. “Do you always invite strangers into your apartment after 9:00 p.m.?”
I raised a brow. “Are you a stranger?”
“Depends,” he said, eyes holding mine. “How much do you think you know about me?”
I smiled slowly. “Enough to know your favorite pastime is judging my every move.”
“Only because your moves are so predictably reckless.”
