“Do,” he answers with a small touch to my elbow. “Thank you, Gigi.”
“Gigi,” the man says, stopping a few feet away. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
I drop one foot back, pivoting my weight so that I shift closer to Rush. His hand brushes the small of my back. “Coffee, love.”
I look back over my shoulder, my gaze meeting Rush’s one more time. “Coming right up.”
Then, with a nod to Killian, I start for the kitchenette.
I don’t look at Rush’s friend again. There is an intensity in his gaze that unsettles me. He feels like some shadow of my old life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rush
Matteo entersmy office and I quietly close the door, as I stare down the man who was just openly appraising my woman.
I don’t like it.
Killian gives me a side eye as he slides into his preferred spot, leaning against a windowsill.
Matteo turns to me, a brow lifting. He’s even harder than I remember. If Vigo is all bluster, this Italian is quiet control that masks real power.
He’s just Gigi’s type, which makes me hate him.
“Nice view,” he says with a smile.
“The skyline?” I grit out, stalking around the desk and taking a seat.
“The assistant,” he answers, his grin widening. “I’d ask if you’re doing more than looking, but I already know that you are.”
“Mind your fucking business,” I lean forward, staring daggers at him.
Killian shifts, and I get it. I’m fucking this up. I’m supposed to be testing Matteo as an ally, not starting another fight. But Gigi is not up for discussion.
Matteo doesn’t look bothered. If anything, his smile widens. “Did I hear that Vigo was here yesterday?”
The shift in topic has my brows drawing together. “You know he was.”
“What did he think of Gigi?” Matteo asks, twisting his neck so that the snake tattoo moves as his bones let out a crack.
My eyes narrow, as I try to decide where this conversation is going. “He didn’t meet her.”
His hand comes to his jaw as he strokes his chin. “Probably for the best. Vigo’s one redeeming quality is his taste in women. Of course, he has no idea how to treat them, but that is a sin he’ll pay for, I’m sure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
A knock sounds at the door. It opens, Gigi appearing with a coffee service, neatly arranged on a tray. Setting it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, she turns to Matteo. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Please do,” he drawls, his eyes moving up her in a way that makes me murderous all over again.
“Cream or sugar?”
“Cream.”
With a nod, she bends down to fill his cup, her ass on full display. My hand clenches under the desk as I stand, moving around the desk.
“Gigi.” Her name comes out harsh and rough. She straightens, her eyes wide as she turns to me.
