You took his freaking wedding ring, Emma. Why the hell did you do that?
I still have no idea what prompted that move. It was ridiculous. A childish act of petulance.
And maybe…because I wanted something of his to hold on to.
Yeah. His motherfucking wedding ring.
You are SO messed up, girl.
I glance away when the intensity of his stare becomes unbearable.
“I think Parker will arrange something,” I say, dismayed at how feeble I’m suddenly sounding. God, what the hell is wrong with me?
Apart from the obvious, Em?
Which would be what, exactly? Aside from the fact that my gangster father has practically sold me into a marriage with some sleazebucket politician. And now the mobster who got me knocked up has appeared out of nowhere.
And it looks like he wants me dead.
Chapter 4
Raoul Caraldi
Thank fuck I’ve spent my entire life learning to hide my emotions. Because if not for that, I’d be standing with my mouth hanging open.
Or cutting throats.
I can’t decide what enrages me more. The knowledge that the girl I’ve been dreaming about for a month is the daughter of my worst fucking enemy. Or the fact that there’s a piece of shit with his hands all over her.
Don’t forget the ring, Carladi.
Thieving is clearly wired into McErlane DNA.
And yet, despite it all, I still fucking want her. Not just want…something in me feels like it’s clawing at my gut. She raises a hand to trace a platinum strand behind one delicate ear, and I feel myself swallow hard. The dark tattoo that trails down her neck from the indentation behind her ear has been etched into my brain. A fine feathering of images that I followed with my tongue to her shoulder before I sucked down on that silken flesh—
“Baby…?” the voice at my side snaps me back to reality and the blonde twining around me like a goddamn vine. “Shall we go back up to your suite to wait for you? Or do you want us here to bring you luck?” She winks at me and licks her pouting lips. Her red-haired friend slides her hand under my jacket, and I feel the pair of them link fingers behind my back. I’m remembering now that I’ve had them before…and tag-teaming is their specialty.
Girl-on-girl, girl-on-boy-on-girl…
Every man’s wet dream.
“Not now,” I snap, wondering how she could be so oblivious to the tension around us. She hovers with her friend, the two of them waiting for a hint of encouragement. What the hell is wrong with them? Where’s their fire? Their pride? They should be flipping me the bird. Telling me not to be so disrespectful.
Wait. What?
Where the fuck did that just come from? Party girls have been my go-to option for over a decade.
What’s your goddamn problem? You were supposed to have some fun tonight.
I vaguely recall the pep talk I gave myself earlier this evening.“Pick up some ass. Get back on the horse.”There they are, on a fucking silver platter. And I can’t. Because what I really want is standing several feet away from me, plastered against a corrupt politician, with her crime lord father glaring daggers at me.
Well, there it is, Caraldi.
Bullshit. I’m not buying that. She doesn’t have my attention because she rocked my world or anything. It’s just my work instincts kicking in. Maybe my brain is putting the puzzle pieces together…
If she was mine, how would McErlane keep up with his relentless fuckery? He’d have to get out of my business, once and for all.
I direct a practiced smile at him and watch his face darken with fury.
