Page 90 of Don’t Say Mafia

My spine straightened, irritation sparking hot through the unease. “That’s not your call.”

“I know,” he said immediately, his mouth pursed in regret. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” I all but snarled.

His gaze dragged across my face, down the line of my throat, and over my shoulders. It traced the dips of my collarbones and the curve where my blouse pulled tight across my breasts. I felt it when his attention moved lower—to the narrow line of my waist and over the swell of my hips beneath the fitted skirt.

The intensity didn’t ease at all.

“Are you . . . all right?” I choked out, feeling like I was about to combust.

His jaw ticked once, and he looked away as if he was trying to recalibrate. After a moment, his eyes came back to mine. “My business is having some issues,” he said evenly. “But I’m managing them.”

That didn’t really explain why he was staring at me like he wanted to eat me, but I felt bad that I’d snapped at him. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

His eyes glimmered, and I watched, awestruck, as his tongue dipped out to lick a drop of whiskey from his lower lip. “So fucking sweet,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than me.

He straightened slightly and took another drink. “Go,” he added quietly. “Keep working. I’ll . . . just be here.”

I hesitated for half a second, irritation tangling with concern and something far more unsettling before I gave a small nod and stepped away, letting the noise of the casino swallow me again.

It will pass.

That’s what I kept telling myself.

He was going to finish his drink, settle whatever storm he’d dragged in with him, and leave. And then I could do my job the way I always did, head down, smile on, heart locked tight behind my sternum.

But he didn’t leave. He stayed.

Every time I crossed my section, I felt his gaze . . . and it was getting under my skin.

I dropped drinks at a blackjack table and felt it between my shoulder blades. Took an order at the bar and felt it between my thighs. I laughed at something one of the regulars said and felt it then, too. I had never been more aware of someone in my entire life.

And finally, I’d had enough.

I finished my round, and set the tray down at my station, taking a steadying breath that did absolutely nothing. My nerves felt scraped raw, my skin too aware of itself, and my thoughts were looping in a way that made it hard to concentrate on anything else.

I spotted my floor manager near the pit and made my way over. “Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Can I take a quick fifteen?”

“Of course.” He looked me over, his brows drawing together slightly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I answered automatically.

“You look . . . pale,” he said carefully. “If you need more than fifteen, take it. We’ve got coverage.”

I forced a small smile. “I’m fine. I just need a minute,” I murmured, already turning away.

There was no need to look back at Jagger as I headed off the casino floor. I could feel his attention following me the entire way.

CHAPTER 22

EDEN

Ipushed through the swinging door into the staff corridor and made my way to the women’s bathroom at the end of the hall. I needed some cold water and some space . . . something to drown out the way my skin still hummed from his stare.

I shoved the door open, breathing a sigh of relief that no one else was in here.

The mirror showed me exactly what I’d been hoping not to see . . . a woman falling apart. Grabbing a paper towel, I wet it and then dabbed at my neck, hoping I could cool myself off.