Page 3

In a past life, he could have been a pirate.
Gregorio was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
Even though Tristan was lean, in a yoga or runner type of way, they all knew Gregorio could take him apart in a single move.
Whathedidn’t know was that Gregorio would do just that, no matter the setting.
“I’ll give you the count of three to get lost.”
Immediately, Tristan released Sasha and stepped back.
He adjusted his tie as he cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He looked her up and down. “Bitch like you isn’t worth the effort anyway.”
Her mouth dropped from shock.
“You signed your death warrant.”
Paling, Tristan pivoted and strode away.
Before she could recover, another song started. Gregorio swept her into his strong arms and moved them closer to the band, away from prying eyes.
“Interrupting my dance…” She could handle herself, and a man like Tristan wouldn’t have posed much of a challenge. “That was uncalled for.”
“Was it?”
He sounded appallingly unconcerned.
“I saved you, Sasha. Again.”
For most of her teenage years, he’d repeatedly stuck his nose in her business. He’d been her constant shadow, always watching, always intervening. It had been equal parts comforting and infuriating.
In so many ways, he’d helped her become the person she was today. “I can save myself, Gregorio,” she insisted. After all, she taught self-defense to others. She could lay out Tristan in the space of a heartbeat.
Gregorio swept a searing, appreciative gaze over her.
Then, before she could protest, he nudged her closer, leaving her no choice but to inhale his spicy, outdoorsy scent. It was familiar and foreign all at once, bringing back a rush of memories—late night conversations, shared laughter.
“I mean it, Gregorio.” She tried to pull back, but he tightened his grip. “You had no right to do that.”
“Hmm.” He flicked a casual glance toward Tristan, who was making a beeline to the bar.
“He’s not worth the time or effort.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
It’s my life we’re talking about.
“Pretty boy fucked up when he insulted you.”
“Just stop. I don’t need you to protect me.”
“He’s going to die tonight.” As if she hadn’t said a word, he continued, “Or at least regret being born.”
She shuddered. Not from fear, but from a sudden, visceral awareness of his strength, his power. It was like being caught in the gaze of a predator—exhilarating and paralyzing all at once.
“Furthermore,youshould be thanking me.”
“Thankingyou?” He thought he could show back up in her life and tell her what to do? “You need to get over yourself.”