Page 14 of Dark Breaker

My body moves in a blur, a snake primed for the strike, and I’m already walking away while he just stands there stunned with his friends, trying to comprehend what just happened. If they’re smart they’ll keep quiet.

“That guy hit him!” one of his friends says.

“Hey, asshole!” another shouts.

I pause.

Not so smart.

I turn around. The guy who shoulder-slammed me is holding his nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood fountaining from his broken nasal bone.

I lift the hem of my T-shirt slightly to reveal the grip of the pistol I have tucked into my jeans.

“Is there a problem?” I ask.

They raise their hands and back away.

“No,” one of them says. “No problem.”

“Good.” I lower the hem of my shirt once more and turn to go.

“Call security,” I hear someone say behind me.

I quicken my pace. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here after all.

I reach the destination building and hurry inside. Her class is just getting out when I arrive. I linger in the hallway, keeping a respectful distance—I don’t want her to actually see me.

Most of the students are dressed fairly casually. Some of the girls even have Rosa’s hairstyle, with half their heads shaved and the other side grown out to different lengths. I don’t see her yet, though. It’s a big class.

Finally she emerges. She stands out immediately, dressed in that leather jumpsuit she seems to favor, and a face that belongs on a supermodel. Thick, well-groomed brows, almond-shaped brown eyes, high cheekbones, a delicate little nose, pouty lips… basically perfection embodied.

In fact none of the women present, and I’d bet on the entire campus, could hold a candle to her. She’s only lightly dusted on the makeup—her flawless complexion doesn’t even need any. Maybe marrying her isn’t such a bad idea after all…

I stare longingly at those pouty lips of hers, and I can’t help but wonder how they’d feel wrapped around my throbbing cock, sucking and tugging. I quickly banish that thought, but find myself distracted again by the way she moves.

She’s got this minxish sex appeal that so many beautiful women are lacking. I mean, normally most beautiful women are these cold, elegant creatures who are very careful and controlled with their movements and manners, as if afraid of expressing anything even remotely close to sexuality in their strides. Probably for good reason—the streets of Palermo aren’t the safest place for a beautiful woman, especially if she’s alone.

But not Rosa. She doesn’t care. She sways her wide hips as she walks. It’s a movement that seems to come naturally for her, and I have to wonder if she’s aware of the intoxicating effect it has on the guys around her. Yeah, of course she’s aware. She also keeps the chest zipper of her leather jumpsuit pulled low I notice, baring just the right amount of cleavage. A small amount, yes, but more than enough to tease.

Almost every guy who passes by gives her a long stare, and those looks make me angry for some reason. I find myself balling my hands into fists, and it’s all I can do to resist the urge to leap on some of these bastards and wipe the obvious desire from their faces with some well-placed punches.

I concentrate on Rosa. She’s talking to her friends and pretending to be oblivious to all the looks. Maybe she’s simply used to the constant attention by now. One of the girls with her is a beauty in her own right, though she still pales in comparison to her. The second girl is rather plain, but the confidence and joy she exudes is sexy. They’re all carrying textbooks and laptops against their chests.

Some random dude comes up to Rosa and I can tell he’s trying to flirt with her from his cocky expression. She returns his overtures with a flirtatious grin of her own, which pisses me off immensely. However, I think I see a glint of sarcasm in her eyes, and when the corner of her mouth turns up snidely, I hold back. In fact, I can’t suppress a smile that comes to my lips: she thinks she’s better than him. I wonder if she thinks that about all guys. With the way she looks, I’m starting not to blame her for feeling that way.

But then when the dude tries to pinch her ass, I snap. Even though Rosa slips away and slaps his hand, my face throbs with the heat of rage, and my vision becomes tunnel-like, focused entirely on that douchebag.

I stride toward the idiot. Rosa and her friends have already moved on, while the guy walks in the opposite direction, completely unaware of his coming pain. He’s trying to shake off the rejection with obvious difficulty, and when he glances over one shoulder at her, he walks right into me.

I smash him in the jaw and he drops like a rag doll.

I feel better immediately and continue after Rosa.

“Oh my God!” some girl says behind me, but I ignore it. If I leave a trail of blood and destruction across the campus in Rosa’s wake, so be it.

When Rosa glances back in my direction, I quickly duck into a nearby washroom.

Shit. I definitely don’t want her to know I’m here, following her. Stalking her. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. What do I care if my future wife flirts with anyone?