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“What? It’s what you were thinking.”
“And what am I thinking right now?” Gianna thought she was clairvoyant when she was high, which was a lot of the time.
She pursed her lips. “That you want to strangle me.”
My brows rose in accord as I took a drink of whiskey.
“I don’t understand how I had sex with you,” she said, observing the party with a sigh.
I didn’t either, though I could only feel relieved that she’d been the one to start it. Truthfully, we’d been so drunk, there was hardly a memory to go with the deed.
My gaze landed on Tony, who appeared to be getting talked down to by his mamma. It was only a diverting amusement that he’d brought Jenny, who was currently trying to sell my aunt Mary Kay.
Gianna began to drift away, but before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed her arm and asked, “And why would it be such a bad idea?”
I didn’t look at her, but I felt her sad smile.
“Because you’ll fall in love with her,” she said. “And she won’t love you back.”
The chatter was low, Elvis Presley’s Can’t Help Falling In Love a little quieter. The soft lighting sparkled off the glass view of the city, and Nicolas’s black-suited form only highlighted it as he stood near the bar.
I didn’t know how it had happened, but I was drunk. Lolled into a sense of warmth and complacency, and I couldn’t stop myself from heading toward what had to be a gentleman. The problem was, if I stopped to ask this one for help, he’d most likely take advantage of me. Or maybe that was only wishful thinking . . . He’d probably only give me a rude stare.
“I didn’t expect you to like Elvis Presley.”
I was assuming just because I could.
Nicolas glanced at me with a half-lidded amber gaze that always sent my pulse racing. “Every time you’ve assumed, you’ve been wrong.”
I took the remaining steps toward him, eating up the electricity that spanned between us with each click of my heels. “That’s not true.”
I stood by his side, perusing the liquor decanters. Close enough my shoulder brushed his chest. Close enough my skin danced with awareness.
“Yeah? Then what have you gotten right?”
I reached across him for the gin, pretending that my arm grazing his didn’t affect me at all, when in reality it sent a rush of warmth low in my stomach. “I assumed from day one that you were an asshole, and I was right.” I paused with my hand on the decanter, not believing that had come out of my mouth.
A hint of a sly smile pulled at his lips, almost as if he was thinking about something inappropriate. “Is that the first time you’ve said asshole?”
“Yeah. Did I use it right?” I tugged off the lid and poured some liquor into my glass.
“Could’ve been better.”
I frowned, a little affronted. The first time I used a curse word to insult someone and it was lame? Maybe I didn’t have it in me. I glanced at him, and a sudden wave of shyness overcame me when I noticed he’d been watching me.
“How so?” I added some tonic water and lime to my glass.
“It was pretty unmoving.” He had one hand in his pocket, while the other brought his glass to his lips as he looked around the room.
“How would Nicolas Russo do it, then?”
His gaze settled on mine. “If I was going to insult you, I’d make sure to leave you thinking about it for a while.”
I stirred my drink, feeling like stirring up something else. “So show me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want me to insult you?”
I nodded, took a sip, and then licked the gin off my lips. My breath turned shallow when his gaze fell to my mouth and darkened.