That’s my good girl.
And immediately, that unsettling heat starts crawling under my skin and I resist the urge to loosen my tie. I hate that I can’t stop stealing a look at her every moment I can. I hate that when I do, I can’t stop replaying every touch, every glare, and every breath she takes.
And I especially hate that my first thought after seeing her slap Nico D’Ambrosio in public isn’t concern about optics or the fallout, but fuckingpride.
I force myself to chase away the growing agitation in my heart. Then, I see Bella turning and storming away. As she does, her eyes find mine and for a moment, time stops.
She’s staring hot daggers at me, and her gaze sets every nerve ending in my body on fire. Then, her head cocks slightly to one side, her lips twist into a sarcastically sweet smile, and I can practically hear her voice—clear as church bells—whispering in my ear.
"Was that what you fucking wanted?"
Then, she turns her head, flips her hair over her shoulders, and walks away as quickly as she can.
Little fucking tease.
And as I stare at her ass sashaying with every step, I can’t help but feel a single question slowly poisoning my mind.
Could there be history between them?
Her brother worked for the D'Ambrosio Family. The connection is there. The timeline is there. And if Luca worked for theD'Ambrosios, then it’s not out of the question that Bella might’ve had a run-in with Nico in the past.
After all, you don’t just slap the only remaining prince of the D’Ambrosio Family in public like that without some intimate knowledge.
Intimate.I want to throw the fucking glass against the wall at that word. My mind starts coming up with possibilities I don't want to think about. And each one ends the same fucking way—Nico’s fingers on Bella’s chin, Nico’s hand running through Bella’s hair, Nico’s lips on her skin.
My breath grows shallow and I want to fucking kill something.
Why the fuck do I care?
"As far as run-ins with Nico go," Alik materializes at my elbow, grabs a drink from a nearby caterer, and gives my glass a clink. "That one went about as well as it could have."
I don't look at him. My eyes are still following Bella through the crowd. She’s weaving past the donors, turning heads as she does, and heading straight for the doors leading to the balcony. My throat feels dry and I take a sip from my glass, but it does nothing to relieve the fire.
“Thanks to her, instead of all of New York asking about organized crime involvement with the new mayoral candidate.” Alik raises his glass. “Now the talk of the town is how Nico D’Ambrosio got humiliated atyourevent. Your girl handled it better than any of us could have.”
My girl. Except she isn’t mine. I don’t want her to be mine, and she has no interest in being mine.
"And she’s easy on the eyes too." He chuckles.
“Alik.”
“What?”
"One more word and I will beat seven shades of shit out of you."
Then, before he can respond, I yank the drink out of his hand and walk towards the balcony after Bella.
12
BELLA
The New Yorkskyline doesn't give a shit about my crisis.
It just keeps glittering indifferently while I stand on a balcony thirty floors up clutching the necklace my brother stole. The summer breeze is unusually cool. But the humidity leaves my exposed back and shoulders sticky with sweat, and no hope of relief.
Spread those pretty long legs that Luca never told us about and get in bed with him.
Is it this obvious?
