Page 171 of Safe Word

Or something more complicated?

And when his gaze finally slid from me to Cain, I noticed the shift – subtle, but there. The edge dulled. The ice softened.

He dipped his chin once, casual as ever, then slid a hand into the pocket of his pale blue slacks and lobbed something at Cain – who caught it single-handedly.

A comb.

Cain’s frown was answer enough – message delivered. Although, I had to admit I liked his slightly dishevelled look. It kind of made him seem… mortal.

Stepping towards the trio of velvet armchairs arranged around a low glass table, Vinnie stood just as I neared, and brushed past me deliberately – a little too close. A little too slow. His chest grazed mine, and he dipped his head, close enough that I felt the warmth of his exhale at my temple.

I jerked my head towards him.

The bastard was smirking. Walking backwards now, as if nothing had happened – as if the moment hadn’t pulsed with something predatory.

Did he… did he smell my fucking hair?

My stomach twisted. I rubbed my forearm on instinct, as though I could scrub away the feeling that idea draped over me.

‘Miss DeLuca!’ A cheerful, feminine voice cut through the static.

The woman in the opposite chair stood and extended a hand. Polished nails, designer blouse, smile just shy of plastic.

‘So happy to finally meet you! I’ve heard quite a bit.’ Her tone sunk by the end as her gaze snagged on my bruise by the brow.

I returned the gesture with a polite smile, pretending there was nothing weird about me. But my thoughts were still stuck on Vinnie. How he moved. How he watched. How his boundaries shifted with mood – not consent.

‘Bike accident,’ I said to her, shrugging, and watched the discomfort melt from her shoulders.

As a shadow covered the carpet, her gaze reached beyond me and climbed up.

‘And Mr D’Angelo. An angel, indeed,’ she purred, reaching her hand to Cain.

Something in me recoiled as he took it, shook it curtly and – attempted to – wrench it out of hers.

But she held on.

Her gaze locked with his, steady, laced with something knowing. A kind of intent that was too obvious to be ignored.

It scorched straight through me.

I shifted in the chair, trying to shake the heat crawling up my neck. The ridiculous, entirely unwelcome possessiveness clawed its way up my spine.

Cain slid into the chair beside me, silent. The fabric groaned faintly beneath his weight. I didn’t realise how much I’d been holding my breath until that moment.

I caught Vinnie and his lopsided smirk as he sank deeper into the sofa, legs sprawled like he owned the room, chin propped lazily against his knuckles.

He fixed a blatant, unbothered stare on me like I were a puzzle he’d already half-solved and was in no rush to finish.

Then came the thought.

Should I tell Cain?

Should I say anything about Vinnie? It could have been my rattled state of mind that was simply conjuring things – the loss of Ghost, who was my only vent up until now; Travis’ attack; the kiss with Cain that shouldn’t have happened…

Damn it, I cursed inwardly. I was fucking up even this new life I’d started to build here.

Glancing sideways at Cain’s unreadable face, our eyes met for a heartbeat. Then he looked away.