His eyes sparkled maliciously. “Sensitive subject?”
“You’re repulsive,” I said.
“And yet,” he sighed dramatically, “women usually like me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” He flashed another perfect smile. “I’m gorgeous.”
Unfortunately, he was. That was the problem. Angelo Moretti looked like the kind of man women ruined themselves for willingly. Tall. Dark-haired. Effortlessly charming. But beneath it all, there was something deeply unpleasant slithering under his skin. Cruelty disguised as humor. Rot hidden behind pretty teeth.
Even Leo felt cleaner than him somehow. The thought horrified me. Angelo leaned closer.
“You know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “if you ever get tired of Leo, there are other options in the family.”
My face twisted. “I would rather die.”
“Careful,” he laughed. “My father might hear you.”
Edoardo Moretti. A vivid image flashed through my mind. The older man from the wedding reception with greasy slicked-back hair, fleshy hands heavy with rings, and eyes that lingered too long on my body whenever he spoke to me.
I remembered the way he smiled. Like he was mentally undressing every woman in the room. My skin crawled.
“Your father is old enough to be my grandfather,” I said coldly.
“And very wealthy.”
“He’s disgusting,” I spit out.
Angelo shrugged carelessly. “He likes blondes.”
I stared at him in horror. “You actually think that’s a selling point?”
“Not particularly.” He smirked. “But he’d definitely enjoy ruining you.”
Something sick rolled through my stomach. “You’re both insane.”
“Probably.” His grin widened. “Runs in the family.”
Before I could respond, movement behind him caught my attention.
Leo.
He stepped through the front entrance surrounded by guards, black dress shirt rolled to his forearms, tattoos peeking beneath the fabric. His expression was unreadable until his eyes landed on Angelo standing too close to me. Then something dangerous flickered there. Angelo noticed it too. And smiled.
Angelo’s grin only widened when he noticed Leo approaching. Danger rolled off my husband in waves. Even the guards near the door subtly straightened.
“Careful,” Angelo murmured quietly to me, amusement glittering in his dark eyes. “That look usually means someone’s about to die.”
My pulse skipped. Leo stopped directly in front of us.
“What are you doing near my wife?” he asked calmly. That was the terrifying part. The calm.
Angelo spread his hands lazily. “Talking.”
“I can see that.” Sergio appeared just behind Leo, massive and silent, his sharp gaze flicking between the three of us. For one strange second, I almost felt bad for Angelo.
Almost. Then his hand brushed mine. Quickly. Deliberately. Something small and metallic pressed into my palm before he stepped back smoothly like nothing had happened. My breath caught.
