Page 36 of Lovely Venom

She considers it for a moment before admitting she does remember. “I was supposed to let you know if Marco showed up so you could speak to him. But Mr. Vitale, I swear, I was going to tell you. It’s just that one of the customers started talking to me, and I got distracted⁠—”

“And your failure to do what I asked put someone in harm’s way,” I cut her off.

“I’m sorry.” She dips her head, but the words ring hollow.

“If I can’t trust you to follow simple instructions, there’s no place for you here. Get your things and leave.”

“Mr. Vitale⁠—”

“The manager will mail your final check.”

I leave her standing there slack-jawed as I slip back into the suite and shut the door behind me.

Chantel lifts her bleary gaze to mine. “I don’t think Sienna likes me very much.”

“It would appear that way.”

“But she reaaally likes you,” she drawls, offering me a lazy smile.

I ignore that remark as I take off my jacket and loosen my tie, trying to defuse some of the restless energy coursing through my veins. Chantel watches as I roll up my sleeves, letting out a little sigh as her gaze lingers on my forearms.

“Here we go again,” she mutters.

“What?”

“You.” She gestures at me vaguely. “Out here showing those off like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

“And what am I doing, Chantel?” My voice dips.

“You’re being obscene,” she says, as though it should be obvious.

I scrape a hand over my jaw to hide my amusement. “You’re drunk.”

Her lowered inhibitions and resulting commentary dissolve some of the tension from tonight, but it won’t last long. Now that she’s awake, I have to take inventory of the damages.

“I need to check your injuries,” I tell her.

For once, she doesn’t argue, so I approach her and tip her chin up to examine her.

As my gaze drifts over the familiar landscape of her features, something unwelcome sparks inside me.

She’s used to men staring. It’s a problematic side effect of being the most beautiful woman in every room. I’d like to say I’m immune, but I have a functioning pair of eyes, and to my displeasure, I’ve discovered that telling myself I have an aversion to her isn’t as easy as actually developing one.

“Can’t really blame Sienna,” she murmurs as she studies me in return. “You’re too handsome for your own good.”

“That’s a problem for you, is it?”

My thumb grazes her jaw without any real purpose, but she’s too distracted by her own thoughts as she rambles on.

“It’s actually quite annoying. Not to mention, it’s a problem for the female species in general. You’re exactly the kind of trouble we need to avoid.”

“What kind of trouble is that?”

“You only have transactional relationships, you own a nightclub where you’re constantly surrounded by temptation, and you’re criminally hot.”

“Handsome and criminally hot. Tell me how you really feel.”

“It bears repeating,” she says. “But I’m sure you already know that.”