Page 35 of Lovely Venom

Cristian turns around and kicks Marco in the teeth, and Isobel sobs as she falls to her knees beside him.

With the threat effectively neutralized, the last of the adrenaline dumps from my body, draining every ounce of energy I have left. I can barely keep my eyes open when Cristian approaches me and lifts me into his arms again.

“S’okay,” I mumble against his chest. “You can leave me. I just need a little nap.”

“How much have you had to drink?” He studies me, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was concern on his face. But that can’t be right. He hates me. Or…he did. I think he did?

I don’t know anymore.

“How much is there in half a Fishbowl?” I ask.

“Jesus,” he mutters, glancing up at Angelo.

“Go,” Angelo tells him. “I’ll wrap things up here.”

“But my friends.” I try to motion in their direction, and my hand just flops against Cristian’s shoulder.

“Abella’s asleep at the penthouse,” Angelo assures me. “I’ll get the other two home safely.”

I nod as my eyes grow heavy. “I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute.”

6

CRISTIAN

“Mr. Vitale.”

A soft knock alerts me to Sienna’s presence as she enters my private suite at the club. She’s carrying the things I requested, but her face drops as soon as she notices Chantel resting on the lounge.

“You can set the tray on the table,” I tell her.

She follows my directive and tries to make a quick escape, which is ironic, considering she’s never missed an opportunity to hover.

“Sienna.”

“Yes?” Her spine straightens.

“What part of tell me if she leaves the first floor did you not understand?”

“I…I’m sorry, Mr. Vitale. I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice she was gone for an hour when your only job this evening was to provide service to her and her friends?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but Chantel stirs with a groan, peeking up at her groggily.

“Oh, God,” she mumbles. “Am I dreaming, or did you come to finish me off?”

Sienna doesn’t answer her.

I gesture for Sienna to follow me into the hall and close the door behind us.

“Do you remember what I asked you to do at the beginning of the night?”

“Yes.” She shifts, avoiding my gaze. “You wanted me to look after your…friends.”

The way she emphasizes that word betrays her unwarranted feelings toward the women who arrived with me tonight. Her jealousy has no basis in reality, considering I’ve only ever been professional toward her. But it tells me everything I need to know about the situation.

“And what else?” I ask her.