“Still, I wished I’d have heard from you,” he tells me, tilting his head to the side. I can feel him moving in a little bit closer to me. Daring to each his hand out and pretend to brush something off my shoulder.
“Too late,” I mumble with a slight chuckle.
“Is it?” he asks me quietly.
I glance toward the party then back at him.
Even in my drunken state, I know that this is a bold move. Yet, the wolf that Gregor is, begins to descend upon me. What he doesn’t know, and what I don’t know until a second later, is that a bigger and angrier wolf is descending upon us both.
“Yes, it is.” Damian’s voice comes from beside us. I nearly flinch from the intensity of his tone.
“Who are you?” Gregor asks him.
“I’m Mr. Dresvanni’s bodyguard and he’s needed elsewhere right now,” Damian insists. I look over toward him and I see the restraint written on his face. His forehead is creased, his jaw is tight, and his hands are almost curled into fists.
Is he jealous?
I can’t help but smirk and tap my fingers on the bar. “I’m doing fine right here actually, Damian.” I say his name in a drawl and then look back toward Gregor who looks almost vindicated by my words.
Unfortunately for the both of us, Damian isn’t willing to settle for that.
“Your wife is looking for you,” he tells me pointedly.
Though I doubt it, highly. “Is she?” I look around for a moment, and in fact see Rosalie talking to a few people across the room, looking wholly disinterested in my whereabouts. I don’t say anything though. I kind of like this game we’re playing.
“She is,” Damian confirms, and his voice gets lower.
“Why doesn’t she find me herself?” I ask him, in an almost playful tone.
Damian growls under his breath and steps closer. He seems to be done playing the nice guy. He steps between Gregor and I, with his back nearly against my chest.
“Find something else to do or I’ll find it for you,” he tells Gregor.
Usually, the staunchly confident politian that Gregor is would be offended and overly cocky, but the demand in Damian’s voice and sheer size of him seems to scare the man off.
He glances over Damian’s shoulder at me like he’s trying to gauge his chances and then simply nods his head.
“Another time, Alessio,” he says.
I nod in response, and Gregor leaves the two of us to go mingle in the crowd. Damian doesn’t move though. He’s still standing in front of me.
I sigh and take a step to the side and then around him until I can look down into his face.
“I doubt it’s Rosalie that you’re so concerned about,” I tell him.
He eyes me, and those dark orbs make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “What are you insinuating?” he asks.
I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, that someone other than my wife is jealous of the handsome politian flirting with me is all.”
“Was that what he was doing? I didn’t notice,” Damian mumbles and finally breaks eye contact with me to look over to the side toward where Rosalie is.
He can pretend like he’s just doing his job, but I know better.
“Of course you didn’t.” I shove my hands into my slack pockets. My head feels fuzzy and light, and I’m not sure if it’s just the alcohol or standing so close to Damian. I can smell him. He doesn’t smell like whiskey or any other alcohol. He smells like warm spices and musk.
I distinctly remember how good he smells when he’s sweating and panting, and it’s very similar to this. I step even closer to him, feeling desperate for close proximity.
Damian, however, takes a small step back and his expression changes from one of protectiveness to…something else. His brow furrows and his lips turn down at the corners.
