And when his eyes drop to the hand Paolo kissed, I can tell he’s furiously jealous.
NINE
GABRIEL | FLORENCE
Zaleaand I stare each other down, both of us less than happy. The last thing I thought I’d find when I got here was some pop-star looking Italian guy walking her to her hotel. The fucker even asked to see her again, and kissed her hand, right in front of me.
A man with a real death wish.
“Who was that guy?” I ask, trying to sound curious and not jealous. “And why did he call you Lea?”
“None of your business,” she snaps, hurrying past me into the hotel lobby.
I follow her inside, past the reception desk, and straight into the elevator.
“I’m going to need you to stop stalking me, Gabriel,” she hisses once the doors close. “It’ssoillegal, and I really don’t want to see you right now.”
“I’m not stalking you.” Okay maybe I am. “And too bad, because I need to see you right now.”
The elevator stops on the fourth floor and we both step out.
“I’m not letting you into my room,” she says, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes and gently grab her wrist, pulling her down the hallway with me. “We’ll go to my room then.”
We pass Zalea’s room and stop at the door next to it. I scan the key card and I pull her in after me.
“I guess your room being right next to mine was a complete coincidence, huh?” She asks, eyes narrowed as she tugs her wrist out of my grip and folds her arms across her chest again.
I shrug. “Some would call it fate.”
“Hmm,” she lifts a brow, “others would call it psychotic.”
I’m not in the mood for Zalea’s brattiness tonight, not after seeing her with another guy while avoiding me. I pull off my suit jacket and roll up the cuffs of my shirt while I watch her, and as expected, her eyes roam my body hungrily, and I fight with everything I have to keep my erection tame.
“Why are you avoiding me, Red?”
“Don’t call me that.”
I quirk a brow. “Since when do you not like that nickname?”
“Since I decided it was time to move on from you,” she says confidently.
It feels like she’s just sucker punched me straight in the gut, but I do my best not to show it.
“Move on from me?” I ask incredulously, putting my hands on my hips.
“From us,” she corrects, andthathurts even more.
I scoff, fighting a pained smile as I rub my bottom lip with my thumb, searching for the right words.
But what words can truly remind Zalea about us?
About me?
Words can’t do that, but I know what can.
I start to walk toward her and she eyes me up and down, before taking steps backwards until she’s pressed against my room door.
