“What like Pussy Galore?”
He leans back in his chair, exhaling a soft laugh, the kind that used to make my stomach flip. Now it just makes me nauseous. “Nah, spina velenosa suits you better.”
“Is that how you think of me, as a poisonous thorn?” I lift my glass of water and take a sip, swallowing the acid at the back of my throat.
He scratches his short beard, his gaze flicking to my lips. “Maybe, depends if you plan on sticking me again.”
I tilt my head, matching his smirk. “Careful Dan, I’m not a silly girl you can manipulate anymore. My thorns protect what’s mine and I’ll stick anyone who threatens my family.”
A server approaches the table. “Black coffee, sir. Your brunch will be out shortly.”
“Thank you.” He winks at the girl, making her cheeks blush.
She reminds me of me when I was eighteen, a chubby girl fawning over the first man to show her any attention. Pathetic.
He brings the mug to his lips and blows on the hot drink. “You mean you’ll do anything to protect your son?”
I swallow the thick air. It’s the first time he’s mentioned my son. “How do you know about him?”
He takes a sip from the mug, licks his top lip, then sets the mug back on the table. “I know everything there is to know about you, little bird.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. It’s as if he keeps calling me that to provoke me. He doesn’t know everything. Some things I’ll take to my grave.
I set my fork down and push my plate to the side. “Then you’ll know that I’ll do anything to protect him. And that includes keeping him away from people like you.”
His smile fades, a flicker of hurt passing over his features before he schools it back to arrogance. “I’m here to keep you safe.” He clears his throat. “You and your son.”
“You needn’t bother. I can take care of myself. I’ve managed this far.”
His fist clenches around the napkin on the table. “Things are different now.”
“Why? Because my husband is out of prison?”
He snarls at the word husband. “Ex.” His jaw clenches.The mention of Magnus seems to affect him as much as it does me.
“Not in the eyes of the law.” My chair scrapes along the wooden floor as I rise. “He’s not the only psychopath I’ve dealt with.” I turn to walk away, but Dan reaches for my arm, his fingers curling around my wrist.
Heat licks up my spine, frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation mixing in my blood. He’s too close, too calm, way too smug, sitting there as if he owns me. As if I’m the same naïve girl I was years ago who he could manipulate and bend to his will.
What were my mother and brother thinking? He was on my family’s most wanted hit list after what he did.
His eyes darken, his smirk turning deadly. “You need me, fiore mio.”
I lean down, my voice dropping just for him, and I whisper in his ear. “I stopped needing you a long time ago. And I’m not your flower. I’m a poisonous thorn, remember?”
His smile falters for a moment, like a crack in his confidence. Good. I want him to feel my words slice through his chest. I want him to hurt as much as he hurt me.
His touch sears into my skin, setting my blood to boiling point. His penetrating steely gaze locks onto mine. “We’ll see about that.”
I exhale sharply, snatching the handle of my crew case and yanking my wrist from his grip. “I have a shift to get to. Help yourself to the rest of my brunch. I’ve lost my appetite.”
He shouts after me, “Your shift doesn’t start for another two hours.”
“I’d sooner sit in the staff room than spend another minute with you.” Adrenaline is the only thing keeping me upright as my legs weaken, but I feign confidence and strut out of the departure lounge. The ghost of his hand still burns my wrist, my entire body on fire as I walk away, not daring to look back.
Once out of his sight, I’m able to breathe a little easier. After all these years, this man still has an effect on me. I can’t let myself fall under his spell again. My shell’s hardened, but underneath I still melt for him. A tear pools in the corner of my eye and I dab it away, annoyed with myself for letting him get to me. It’s as if the last thirteen years never happened and all my emotions as a young, betrayed, abandoned eighteen-year-old are as raw as they were then.
I hate him.
