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I would have fucked her up against an alley wall, and I had a tenacious feeling it wouldn’t have been enough. It was the Russo blood in me. It wanted what it wanted, and fuck everything else.
The alley door shut with a click behind me, pulling me from my thoughts. I buttoned my suit jacket and followed Elena down the hall, that silky black ponytail within arms’ reach. When she’d spun around in the alley, it hit me in the chest. I had to tell myself it wasn’t a fucking leash because after I grabbed it earlier, I now wanted to pull her around by it, straight to my bed whether she liked it or not.
The cut of her dress was low, baring smooth olive skin, while only thin strings crisscrossed her back. The black fabric hugged the curve of her ass, leaving nothing to the imagination but what it would look like bare.
Jesus, what I could do to that ass.
Not fucking helpful, Russo.
I forced my gaze away, and ignored the heat running straight to my dick.
Without another word to me, she entered the main room and headed toward her sister and nonna who appeared to be playing a game with crayons on a kid’s menu.
The atmosphere was light, the chatter friendly, which I should have been relieved to see—but frankly I would’ve welcomed a little animosity right now. I was worked up, my shoulders tense with pent-up sexual frustration.
Tony sat with his back toward me, laughing with his cousins. We’d yet to engage each other tonight. I knew we would have to get on eventually, and so I’d invited the idiot to come along. Right now, with this frustration chafing beneath my skin, I was glad I had.
I headed to the bar and sat next to Luca. I needed a drink. Just one, to take the edge off. The last time I’d gotten drunk was six years ago and I’d fucked my stepmother. Lesson learned.
Luca side-eyed me with an amused expression as he took a drink of his beer. He apparently knew I wanted Elena, just like every fucking other man in New York. It was more entertaining, I supposed, because I wasn’t quiet about disliking her before I’d even met her.
“Fuck off,” I gritted.
His chuckle was quiet.
A few moments later, I nursed my whiskey, vaguely listening to my cousin Lorenzo talk about the horse he’d bet too much money on.
“I’m telling you, the odds on this are good . . .” Lorenzo trailed off, staring at what had to be some girl behind my back. “Jesus Christ, I want to marry that woman.”
A wave of agitation ran through me because I knew who he spoke of, but I only swirled the whiskey in my glass before taking an annoyed sip.
I heard Elena laugh softly at something Tony had said behind me. I bit down on the liquor, swallowing. She was so loyal to her idiot of a brother—the one who’d almost gotten her killed. My teeth clenched.
I needed an outlet for this before it exploded.
It was either fighting or fucking. And since I knew the latter would be tainted right now by everything Elena Abelli, the former would have to do.
I slipped my phone out of my pocket.
Then I forwarded the photo of Jenny to Tony.
And waited.
Truthfully, I hadn’t had a girlfriend. She was more accurately a steady fuck, which was the closest thing to a girlfriend I’d had. I didn’t think Elena would give me as much sympathy if I’d said that, so I . . . fibbed, like the cheat I was. Tony had slept with Isabel, making sure I found out, and so out of mere principle I’d fucked Jenny. It was kind of embarrassing how easy it’d been.
I hadn’t spoken to Jenny for more than a year now. With her recent contact, I assumed Tony must not be able to get her off as well with his left hand as he could his right.
“Uh, Ace . . .”
I swirled my whiskey. “Let it happen.”
“Okay, boss.” Lorenzo took a step back.
Luca shook his head and left his seat.
I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t start shit in public. But I was afraid of what I would do if I didn’t. If I ran into Elena Abelli again tonight . . . I’d lose my goddamn mind.
A sudden wave of tension brushed my back before a dull pain exploded in the side of my head.