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I had no choice but to walk past him, so I swallowed, and then forced one foot in front of the other when I wanted to head in the opposite direction.
His gaze burned as it followed my every step. My heart raced, and I prayed for anyone to step around the low wall and save me from this man.
My skin danced with unease as I walked by him, but apparently, he was only trying to kill me with his expression because he didn’t say a word. His silence seemed to be worse than his demands; at least I knew his intentions then. Once I’d made my way past him, I stopped, turned, and snapped, “What?”
“What did I tell you about Christian, Elena?” His voice was low and calm, but it carried a deadly edge.
I hadn’t considered his current mood could be due to the fact I was talking to Christian on the terrace. We’d only been speaking, and in view of everyone. Was he serious?
“I don’t know. I must have missed it.” My response was sarcastic, and he didn’t like it at all if his narrowed gaze was anything to go by.
“Then let me remind you. Stay the fuck away from him.”
“I told you before, and I’ll say it again: I’m an Abelli, not a Russo. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I’m growing tired of you not showing me the respect a don is due,” he bit out.
“And I’m fucking tired of men!”
His gaze grew lethal. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
I couldn’t believe what I had said, but I was drunk, frustrated, and just damn tired of trying to force myself not to feel a certain way. I could still taste the curse word on my tongue and it felt strange, sinful, liberating.
“No Christian.”
Two words. He expected me to listen to those two commanding words.
I shook my head. In my mind, it was Christian or Oscar. The easiest decision I’d ever had to make.
“No.”
He slipped the cigarette in his pocket, and my pulse leapt when he took a step toward me.
I backed up and was only aided when a soft yet consuming grip came to my throat and he lightly pushed me. I fell back a step until I hit the wall. It was an aggressive move, but the way he did it so gently, so absolutely, made something flutter in my chest and spread throughout my body. Want. Need.
He stepped closer until his vest brushed my dress, and my breasts tightened in anticipation. I couldn’t breathe with him so close, his hand around my throat, and the idea that anyone could come down this hall. People were drinking; they’d have to use the restroom.
He braced a palm on the wall beside me, and I’d never felt so consumed in my life. His head lowered, lightly resting on top of mine.
What is happening?
My heart burned.
“Nicolas,” I breathed. “This is inappropriate.”
His thumb caressed my neck, causing my pulse to hitch.
“Platonic,” he rasped.
My insides melted, my lips parted, and my vision grew hazy. I wanted to taste that word straight from his mouth. A laugh from around the wall filtered through the buzz in my ears. I shook my head to clear it, but his face was so close to mine I couldn’t think.
“No,” I panted. “It’s not. Please let me go.”
“No. Christian.” His tone wasn’t nice, even though his touch remained so. It was a strange play on my senses.
And then I realized what this was.
Blackmail.