Page 2 of Darkest Valley
“Are we really calling a quarter payment? In this economy?” I keep my tone light and playful. Luca hands me a cool water bottle, folding his arms over his chest in a silent demand for me to try again. I huff. “Would you believe me if I said it slipped?”
Luca groans. “You’re developing a reputation, Celine.”
“Yeah? We both know that’s why they line up around theblock,” I remind him, annoyed that he’s questioning my judgment, and even more annoyed that he might be right.
Brushing past Luca, I lean forward to examine the mark on my forehead in the mirror. Shit, the thing is almost as red as my hair. With my pale skin, it’s especially obvious. Sighing, I shove body glitter to the side to reach for my concealer.
“Let me see it,” Luca says. His voice is tight, and if I didn’t know better, I would think my ass in his face was affecting him.
Ignoring his demand, I bend over further to test my theory and soothe my wounded pride while I’m at it. The fabric of my lingerie shifts to reveal more of my bare skin, but Luca’s eyes never leave mine in the mirror. It’s oddly disappointing. I’m supposed to have one of the best bodies in Las Vegas, but Luca never notices. Some perverse part of my mind hates that.
“Are you playing manager?” I tease, dabbing product on my forehead.
He rolls his eyes. “I am your manager.”
“And you know I hate to be managed,” I say casually, blending the concealer in until the mark and the makeup are practically invisible. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”
“What happens if he comes back with friends when you’re leaving work?”
I picture breaking more of the blockhead’s teeth and grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“This isn’t a joke, Celine!” Luca’s hands curl around the armrests of the chair, his knuckles whiting out from the pressure. “Some of these guys are frothing at the bit to take an angel down a notch, and you’re feeding into it.”
My amusement vanishes. I’m not wearing a sign that tells guys to behave like animals, so why is it my fault when they do? Luca should know better than to press me about this.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I snap, my voice sharp as my anger surges back to life. “Because the day I start living mylife to appease every horny, supernatural pig in this dusty ass valley is the day my life is no longer worth living.”
“Don’t say that,” Luca hisses, sitting up straighter in my chair.
I spin, looming over him from my standing position between his knees. “I don’t have a death wish, but I won’t back down. Not to those creeps.” Not to anyone, but there’s no reason to tell Luca that. It would make his blood pressure spike, and it’s way too early in our shift to get him that riled up.
He groans and throws his head back. I watch his Adam’s apple bob with interest, then shove the unwanted fantasy of licking my way up the column of his throat out of my head. I need to get laid. If I’m having nasty thoughts about a good friend, it’s been way too long since I scratched the itch.
“The coin was a test,” Luca insists, and I roll my eyes.Duh.
“A test I made him choke on.” The anger inside me surges, then spills over, and I groan as the excess unfurls along each feather of my wings as bright orange, dancing flames. We’ll be sweltering in seconds; the air conditioning in this building is older than me.
Luca shoves to his feet. Instead of retreating from my obvious rage, he steps closer to me instead. “You’re going to set off the smoke alarm again.”
“Yeah, well, you pissed me off,” I grunt, trying my best to shove the excess anger back inside myself where it belongs. I hate when my emotions are on display. It makes me feel far more exposed than stripping in front of strangers.
Luca’s hands cradle my face, one painted black fingernail grazing my bottom lip as he sighs. “I’m not sorry.”
“You’re also not helping.”
A drop of sweat rolls down from his hairline to his cheek, before finally dripping off the edge of his chiseled jaw. My flames climb higher. He doesn’t let me go.
“Luca,” I hiss. “You’ll get burned.”
He shakes his head, ignoring my warning. “You won’t hurt me,” he says. “Even if I piss you off.”
Luca’s solid confidence in me breaks my anger’s hold, because he’s right. Even the thought of making his beautiful face twist with pain turns my stomach.
The flames die abruptly around us, and Luca smiles. I roll my eyes and shove him back into the chair, reclaiming my personal space and severing this odd tension between us at the same time.
His face is damp with sweat from my flaming wings, his normally milk chocolate brown hair melting to a darker shade at the roots. “I think you’re the one with a death wish,” I mutter, using my thumbs to fix his smudged eyeliner.
The disheveled, messy, rockstar style somehow makes him better looking. Sexier. Like he just spent a handful of hours bending someone over the nearest flat surface and making them scream.