He extends one to me. “Um, I guess here’s the coffee you wanted, Saint?”
I raise my glass to him. “I’m having Macallan right now. Maybe go and serve it toZiaMaria instead.”
His forehead wrinkles. “But you said…”
He catches the expression on my face, and his words trail off. He’s probably had one too many drinks. He’s not usually this dense, but at least he’s catching on.
“Right.” He nods so emphatically that some of the coffee sloshes onto the saucer. “Of course. I’ll just…go, then.”
He sends a longing look in Isla’s direction. And I get it. She’s hot as fuck. But she’s not for him. Not in this century.
“Good idea,” I tell him. “But go and clean up those saucers first. You can’t go around offeringZiaMaria sloppy, half-full coffees that are fucking dripping all over the place. Show some respect,stronzo.”
“I will. I’ll clean it up.” He nods again, poor kid, and more coffee spills.
I’d feel bad for him if his hand hadn’t been on Isla’s luscious ass. He’s lucky I don’t chop it off at the damn wrist.
“I’ll go with you,” Isla volunteers, giving me the look of death.
Fabiano takes one look at me and realizes what a terrible idea that is.
“No,” he blurts so loudly that an older Andriani couple a few tables down looks at us. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He forces a smile, and I wonder if it’s as painful as it looks. “See you around.”
“See you,” she says, frowning as she watches him go back to the coffee bar to fix the saucers and refill the cups at my directive. Then she turns to me, her irritation even more obvious. “Did you really have to intimidate him like that?”
“Yes, I did. Fabiano’s a fucking kid. He needs to learn the ropes if he wants to join the big boys one day. Dry humping the maid of honor at his don’s wedding isn’t exactly a good look.”
“So we werehumpingnow?”
She’s outraged.
I love the fiery fury in her eyes, in her voice. The way she’s standing up to me. Challenging me. I’m half hard just standing here drinking her in. But we’re surrounded by family, and my goal is to keep everyone from noticing the electric chemistry between Isla and me. Together, we’re combustible, even when we’re at each other’s throats. Maybe more so when we are.
I down the rest of my drink. “Look, you standing here giving me your outraged routine isn’t any better. Go back to dancing. Just make sure you’re not trying to get dicked by any of my cousins.”
She actually has the nerve to poke me in the chest. “You don’t get to order me around. Got that? I don’t care who you are.”
I have lightning-quick reflexes.
In a heartbeat, I catch her finger in a grip she can’t escape. “You should be careful with this finger, sweetheart. I’d hate for something to happen to it.”
I’m not about to cut off anything when it comes to Luna’s best friend. But I’m not above scaring her into thinking I might. It’s the only way I can keep myself from falling back into her bed and the best way to maintain that angry fire in her eyes.
“Are you going to chop it off?” she asks me, her body tense and frozen, deer-in-headlights style.
I almost feel bad for making her think that. For the tiny hint of fear in her voice. But I don’t allow myself to feel guilt. Not for anything. If I did, I’d be burning alive with it after some of the things I’ve done.
Before I can think twice, I bring her finger to my lips and catch it in my teeth, giving her a quick nip. “Maybe I’ll bite it off.”
She jerks her hand from me, and I allow it. “You’re sick, you know that?”
Without waiting for me to respond, she whirls around and sashays that fine ass back to the dance floor. I head to the bar for another glass of Macallan. Looks like the night is going to be a long one.
Isla
