Page 18 of Devil's Iris

“Where to?” Romero asks.

I blink at him, common sense managing to slip through the fog of attraction. No matter how I feel about him, I can’t give him my actual address. “You can drop me at Mother Gaston Boulevard and Hegeman Avenue.” It’s far enough from myplace that he won’t be able to trace me if he wanted to, but close enough that I can jog the rest of the way without too much stress.

He watches me for a beat, then leans forward to open the partition and give his driver the location. Once he’s done, he closes it again and settles back in his seat. “Would you like a drink?”

The question, delivered in that soft, intimate tone—paired with the way the low lighting darkens his eyes—knocks the air clean out of my lungs. For a moment, I can’t even speak.What the hell is wrong with me?I shake my head and turn away, pretending the blur of passing streetlights is suddenly fascinating.

A long, quiet moment stretches between us. I can feel him watching me, waiting. And then?—

“What did Carlo say to you in that restroom?”

My head jerks towards him. What? Of all the things he could ask. “None of your business,” I snap, sounding more like Ethan than I care to admit. It’s easier to be angry than to acknowledge how off-balance Romero makes me feel. And I really don’t want to think back to what that old fucker Carlo said.

‘Three days with you warming my bed and you never have to serve again.’As if serving is such a dirty job. I’d rather wait tables for the rest of my life than prostitute myself, I’d told him. He didn’t appreciate that response. At all. He grabbed my arm, and I raised my voice out of pure terror.

Thank God I did.

“How did you know I was in there anyway?” Come to think of it—how did he even overhear Fred scolding me in the first place? Unless… “Did you follow me from the ballroom after I spilled that drink?”

Now it’s his turn to stare out the window without answering.

So hedidfollow me. But… why?

And why is he even driving me home right now? It has to be out of his way.

I swallow and let the questions die in my chest. No point looking for meaning in every little thing he does. Maybe he wants me the way I want him, but nothing could ever come of it. Men like him don’t go for women like me—not seriously. Maybe as a mistress, a little side entertainment, but never anything real.

And I’d be completely heartbroken if he made the same kind of proposition that disgusting old man,Carlo, did.

The rest of the ride passes in tense silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When the car finally slows to a stop, I force myself to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the ride.”

His gaze meets mine, something wary flickering in its depths. “You're welcome,bellezza.”

The endearment sends warmth flooding through me, but I just nod, hoping he can’t see how much he affects me. Then I slip out of the car and jog away from him, back to my real life. Away from glittering chandeliers and sprawling mansions, away from luxury cars and men who smell like heaven but are completely out of my league.

BANG!

I jolt upright in bed, heart racing. Something crackles under me as I shift, drawing a sleepy frown to my face. I blink down, eyes struggling to focus.

Papers. Everywhere.

It takes a second, but then it clicks—oh, right. The job ads. Newspaper clippings. Flyers I grabbed from store windows all over town yesterday while hunting for work. It’s only been a day, but I’m already so so tired.

What the hell woke me up?

A wide yawn takes over my face, and I start to brush the papers off my bed so I can lie back down. But the moment my head touches the pillow?—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I jolt upright again, my heart now pounding in perfect rhythm with the banging I now realize is someone throwing their full weight against our front door. Over and over.

Are we about to get robbed?

Shit, shit, shit. We don’t have anything worth stealing.

Still, I move fast. I yank open my nightstand drawer, tug on a pair of boxers over my panties, and grab my pocket knife. Then I slowly tiptoe out of my room, every nerve ending on high alert.

Mom and Ethan must have heard it too, because we all converge in the hallway at the same time, faces pale in the dim light. We exchange nervous glances, but I relax a little, knowing I won’t have to deal with this alone.