“Why are you so interested in my dating life?” I snap, trying to match his energy.
This has been our cycle since the night he ended it—or whatever you call ending something that was technically 'fake.' He claimed his feelings weren't there, yet he’s constantly in my space, his jaw tight and eyes flashing with a jealousy he has no right to feel. He acts like he hates the idea of anyone else touching me, even though he’s the one who let me go.
He stares at me for a second too long before reaching for the foot of my chair and pulling it close to him, sending it screeching loudly on the floor.
My eyes widen at him in disbelief as he smiles mockingly. He leans in so close that I can feel his breath on my lips.
"¿Estás loco?" I snap.
He stares at my mouth, lips parting, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
Instinct takes over, just as it did during those months we pretended to be together. My breath catches, anticipation coiling in my chest as I brace myself for the imminent kiss…
He leans in…
Then hegrins.
That annoying, devilish grin he does when he knows he’s gotten to me.
“You’re an asshole.”I shove his chest, and he chuckles.
"You're lying. You're not dating him." His voice is a low rumble when he speaks again, so sure of himself.
“Are you jealous?” I say to his face, mimicking his smirk.
His mouth opens, but closes just as fast as Mateo reappears. He pulls back, and I take a sip of water to make sure Mateo doesn’t notice what was going on.
The back of my neck burns as I feel him stare at me, speechless. And as impossible as it seems in this heat, the weather feels hotter. Thankfully, the waiter arrives with my food, giving me something to do. Eat.
“Finish your food, I’ll drive you home,” Mateo says.
As Mateo and Damiano talk about business, I tune out.
I sneak a peek at Damiano every once in a while to see if he feels the same effect he has on me, but he’s his usual, calm self. He doesn’t even seem to remember what he just did.
It was only me, as always.
Chapter 3
Damiano
Back in my office at Lux, I glare at the computer screen, pretending to care about the club’s finances—anything to distract myself.
Guidicelli's arrival caught me off guard. Two years of quiet, and this snake choosesmycorner of the world to infest. Out of every damn country, he chooses Argentina.
It makes sense, I guess. He’s a flesh peddler, and South America is a playground for men like him. Borders are a joke, rules are suggestions, and desperation is the local currency. Easy prey, easy money. I should just accept it. But my gut is screaming that something’s off.
He and I never had a direct war, but the hatred between the Cotrini and Guidicelli families is ancient.
He hated my bloodline because we held the real power inLa Famiglia, and I hated his family for being the literal scum of the earth. They built their empire on prostitution, slavery, and other heinous crimes against women and children.
I was born a criminal, yes, but we have lines we don’t cross. We don’t sell people, end of story.
But because of the old alliances, we were never allowed to touch them.
I snatch the crystal tumbler and collapse onto the leather sofa, eyes shut, letting the darkness swallow me.
Instantly, her presence invades the dark.
