“You don’t need to knock, Molly. Fuck.” Alfie runs his hands through his hair. “I never would have thrown that tumbler if I knew it was you.” He steps closer, slowly, assessing every inch of me. “Did any of the glass hit you?”
“No, but I would have preferred to have been cut than have my shoes ruined,” I tell him.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He stops in front of me. His hands are now in his pockets.Why isn’t he touching me?
“Do you want me to leave?”
He shakes his head. “I’m trying to figure out why you haven’t run yet. Why you didn’t turn around and walk out when that glass came flying at your head, Molly.”
“I’m not scared of you, Alfie Giuliani,” I remind him. “And it didn’t hit me. You have shitty aim.”
Alfie laughs. “I flicked my wrist at the last second when I saw your face.”
“You want to talk about it?” I ask him. “Whatever it is that has you in here screaming bloody murder and throwing glasses?”
Alfie’s hands come out of his pockets and then he’s pulling me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. He buries his face into the crook of my neck. “If I did, I’d be either making you a witness or an accomplice. Neither of which I have any intention of doing.”
“Okay, but you should know I’d never be a witness. I’ve seen movies, Alfie. I know witnesses never survive a crime family. And I intent to survive. Always,” I warn him.
“Good. Make sure you do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Molly’s been in the guestroom with Angus and her team of three stylist getting ready for this gala for the last two hours. I don’t understand why she’d need so much time to get ready. She’s fucking perfect the way she is. I’ve also been instructed that unless the world is imploding, I am not allowed to go into that room.
It took three seconds of having her in my arms for all the rage I was feeling to leave my body earlier today. Don’t get me wrong… I’m still worked up, and someone’s head is going to be rolling down the fucking Strip when I find them.
CJ and Sammie J went to a call out at one of our warehouses. It had been hit. About seven hundred grand worth of cocaine stolen and five of our men dead. So you can imagine that news didn’t sit too well with me. I should be out there looking for the fucking thieves now, not sitting here playing dress-up and going to a fucking party. But my father insists on keeping up appearances and all that jazz. So, tonight, I have to trust our employees to do their jobs and find the fucker who stole from us.
I’m nursing a glass of whiskey, the same glass I’ve been nursing for the last hour because I know I can’t drink much tonight. Not with the plans I have for after this gala.
Finally, I see the door open. I stand straighter as the three stylists walk out. They startle at seeing me waiting outside the room. I probably shouldn’t be lurking around in the hallway. But fuck it, it’s my house. If I want to wait for her in the hallway, I will.
“Ah, she’s just getting her dress on now, Mr. Giuliani,” one of them says, closing the door behind them.
“Thank you.” I pull out my wallet, and they all shake their heads at the same time.
“Miss Olive has already been very generous,” another adds, and then they’re all scurrying off in the opposite direction of me.
I roll my eyes.Of course she has.
Five minutes later, the door opens and Angus stops dead in his tracks when he sees me. His lips tilt up into a smirk. “Are you going to be able to keep the vultures at bay tonight?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
“The paparazzi and, well, men. They’re going to swarm her. Word leaked that she was attending the gala and everyone wantsa piece of Mol. She has her own security team, but I’m guessing she’s going to be following you around all night anyway. Are you going to be able to stop their greedy paws from getting to her, or do I need to station her bodyguards in that ballroom?”
“No one will be touching her,” I tell him. I’m fucking offended he thought I’d let anything happen to her.
“Good. That’s what I figured, but you know I have to check.” He shrugs. “Mols, I’m leaving you with your boyfriend. See you tomorrow,” he yells through the door.
“Not my boyfriend,” Molly says as she appears on the other side. And my breath is literally pulled right out of my lungs. Because, holy fucking shit, I’ve never seen anything more fucking beautiful.
I’m rendered speechless. My eyes travel up and down the length of her body. She’s wearing a light-pink dress. A corset top, her breasts popping out the neckline and a good amount of cleavage on display—something I would appreciate if I didn’t know every other fucking asshole is going to be looking at her with indecent thoughts tonight. The satiny skirt touches the floor, and Molly holds it up, showing off a pair of strappy white heels. Her hair is done in intricate curls on top of her head with small tendrils framing her face.
“You…” My throat is dry.
“I think you broke him, Mol,” Angus says, sounding amused. “You got this. Call me if you need anything.” He nods to her and walks away.
