Page 31

“So . . . I’m guessing Chinese is a no?”
“Just go, Tyler.”
“All right.” He took a step back, probably put off by my tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Elena.”
The worry tightening in my chest released when he left, still alive. I swore all the men in my life were psychotic. It was at moments like this when I hated it. I’d only wanted out at one point in the past. When it felt like I was nothing but a beautiful girl trapped in a world of forced smiles, with a grim future in the distance. The parties, the dancing, the fake laughs—it all exploded, until I stood alone for the first time in a city I’d never truly experienced.
It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t belong, that I was already stained by the world I was raised in. That a man with a clean conscience and clean hands would never fit me just right. I’d destroyed a decent man’s life, and while he’d touched me in places I’d never been touched before, I’d wished he did it a little rougher. I’d wished he was tainted by the darkness, as the men I was used to were.
Everyone knew you didn’t fall in love with a man in my world, like the one who stood before me now. Not unless you wanted your heart shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. No, I’d never fall in love. Truly, I’d never expected to. You didn’t mourn something you’d always known you couldn’t have.
At least this man wasn’t mine. He was too distracting, too fascinating . . . I’d never make it out alive.
I adjusted the strap on my shou
lder and walked toward him, my heart beating to every step I took. I stopped a few feet from him. With that look in his eyes, I wouldn’t put myself in this man’s reach for anything.
“Your papà know you’re kissing men on stage?”
I faltered, my clammy hand tightening on my bag. Nicolas must have been here long enough to catch the end of the show. Where in the world was Benito? This man was going to kill me by the look of it.
My feet shifted. “I didn’t kiss anyone.”
Technically, it was a lie, but I was going to talk myself out of this. Because after Nicolas had overheard Tyler ask me out, and the fact that it was Tyler who I’d kissed—well, this might seem worse than it was. To the men in my family’s ears, it would sound like I’d gotten naked with the man. I told you—psychotic. Apparently, Russo men were the same.
Nicolas pushed off the wall and walked within a foot of me. “Yeah? Why don’t you explain what it was you were doing then?”
My cheeks grew hot. “I was Death. I was . . . sucking his life away.”
Maybe that was the wrong way to explain it, because his expression grew even darker. I thought “sucking” might have done it. Ugh. His stare crept under my skin, flustering me.
“It was completely platonic,” I said.
His gaze sparked. “You put your lips on another man’s and suck, it’s never platonic.”
He made it sound so dirty when it had really been a dry, unmoving kiss. Anger simmered in my veins. Who was he to tell me who I could kiss—Mr. I’ll Sleep with My Stepmom and Other Men’s Girlfriends?
Frustration rose in my throat, mangling any possible comeback, so I only brushed past him. He grabbed my duffel bag off my shoulder as I passed. His gaze was still heated, but he followed me out the doors.
The mist fell steady, and I blinked it off my eyelashes as I searched for his car. It sat at the curb, all black and shiny. I wasn’t getting in it; I’d wait for Benito. I stood on the sidewalk while Nicolas tossed my bag in the backseat.
He shut the door and turned to look at me. “You gonna stand there all night or get in the car?”
“Where’s Benito?”
He opened the passenger side door. “He’s got some business with your papà.”
From past experience, that meant something bad was happening in New York tonight. I was surprised Papà had sent Nicolas to chauffeur me, considering his lack of trust with me and men. But I was also a little uneasy he felt he needed Nicolas to take me home.
I’d always felt safe and it was probably nothing, but if there was a reason Papà needed to worry about my safety I was glad he’d sent Nicolas. The man had a million enemies and he had stayed alive this long.
Though, the idea of being locked in a car with him made my stomach flutter with nerves. I imagined I’d feel similar right before jumping out of a plane. I didn’t know why he created such visceral reactions in me, but when he said, “Car. Now, Elena,” I’d never disliked anything more.
I wanted to make him say please, but as my gaze coasted to his, the dark storm that looked back at me changed my mind real quick. I walked past him and got in his stupid car.
My frustration mixed with turmoil. What would he do with the information about Tyler? I didn’t think Papà would care so much about a stage kiss, but with his arm around me, asking me out . . . my stomach turned. That could sound bad.
I was resenting Nicolas Russo so much right now that I tried to ignore the warm, masculine scent filling the car. Sandalwood, clean skin, and a certain danger that made my pulse drift between my legs. I tried to ignore the way it invaded my senses and made the corners of my mind fuzzy. It hit me like a shot of liquor, and I distracted myself with buckling my seatbelt.