Ignoring the jolt of awakening lust, I force my gaze back to hers. “You’re back in Tampa.”
Way to state the obvious, Sandro.
I know my mask is in place, my voice gruff with anger. The anger was the easiest thing to hold onto. Easier than the pain when she fled Tampa without even a goodbye and disconnected her cell phone number, leaving me no way to contact her.
No way to make things right between us.
But here she is. In the flesh.
“Jesus, Lennon.” I step forward.
Giada picks that moment to move in and press herself against my side.
Shit.Reality comes crashing down. I’m slapped in the face with the harsh truth of who I am and what’s expected of me. I shove the emotions and questions that had bubbled up back into the dark corner of my mind and let the flicker of hope die.
“Lennon.” Giada purrs as she looks Lennon up and down. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Lennon’s eyes flash with pain. I know the deepening blush is from anger now.
And then Giada twists the knife.
“Has Sandro told you we’re getting married?” She lifts her hand, fluttering her fingers so the large diamond engagement ring sparkles in Lennon’s face. The one she picked out herself because fuck if I could be bothered.
Lennon tries to hold herself still against the assault of those words. I can see it. But she’s always been an open book, and the devastation is there in her eyes when she brings them back to mine. She’s searching. Searching my eyes for the lie. There’s nothing I can say or do to cushion this moment for her. I’ve never felt so helpless.
“Congratulations,” she finally says. “Excuse me.”
My chest hollows as I watch her walk away, her thick ponytail swinging, that damn skirt barely covering her peach-shaped ass. I have to force my feet to stay planted. My hands fist. I turn slowly and look down at Giada’s self-satisfied smirk.
“Was that necessary?”
She taps a blood-red nail on her chin. “No. But it was fun.”
I study her. Was it growing up in our world that made her so cruel? How am I supposed to be okay with this woman being the mother of my child? I think about the vicious, narcissistic mother who raised me. And now I’m cursing my future offspring with the same fate.
“You’re such a cunt.”
She flashes me that wide, perfect smile. “Yeah, but I’m your cunt, dear fiancé.” Patting my arm, she winks, grabs a champagne flute off a passing server, and then saunters off to find her fellow tribe of jaded, spoiled women.
“Don’t remind me,” I mumble. I turn, intending to find Gunnar, but am met with a smirking Milo instead. “Was that Lennon Kelly? Damn, she’s filled out.”
Deep in the underground recesses of my soul, the Beast lifts his head and snarls. I keep my body relaxed, the fire out of my gaze.
He pokes me harder. “Since you’re a taken man, you wouldn’t mind me having a crack at that pussy, eh?”
I shrug, then busy myself straightening my cuffs so I don’t put my fist through his teeth. “She’s not my concern anymore.” With extreme effort, I manage to walk away.
As I make my way to the bar to find Gunnar, I let my gaze sweep over the women in the crowd.
Gunnar hands me a glass of scotch when I reach him. His eyes narrow, flitting perceptively over my face. “What is it?”
I take a mouthful and swallow, feeling the burn down my throat, into my gut. Then I turn and nod in the direction of the crowd. “See the woman in the black dress sniffing around Caelian?”
“Yeah,” he grunts.
“Go give her ten grand to move her attention to Milo. Five grand bonus if she goes home with him.” Not that I think Milo has a chance in hell with Lennon, but I still don’t want him harassing her. Keeping him busy is the best option.
Gunnar sips his scotch and then deep frown lines mar his forehead. “Want to tell me what this is about?”
