Page 29 of Devil's Iris

I already knew that—I practically signed up to prostitute myself—but my brain still short-circuits when he leans down towards me, his intense gaze locking onto mine.

My pulse skitters when he steps impossibly closer, the heat of his body brushing against mine. Anticipation crackles between us, thick and electric, making my breath hitch.

Is he going to kiss me?

His fingers slide beneath my chin, tipping my face up towards him, and my eyes flutter shut, my mind going blissfully quiet, my lips parting in a silent invitation. I can almost taste him again, feel the phantom pressure of his mouth on mine like it never left.

Then his lips graze mine. Not a kiss. Just a tease. A maddening, feather-light brush that sends my neck lolling back, weak with wanting. His other hand shoots up to cradle the base ofmy skull, steadying me, just as he leans in again—this time slower, deeper, surer.

Please. Please just kiss me?—

Before his lips touch mine, a shrill sound splits the moment. A ringtone.Mine?

My eyes fly open, and I jolt back in his arms, my hip smacking painfully into the edge of the chair behind me. He lets me go instantly, his chest heaving as he spins around with a low curse, fingers sinking into his hair.

The loud shrilling continues as I open my purse to take the darn phone out. Mom’s name flashes on the screen. “Hello?”

“We were released, Leni,” Mom whispers, her voice low and breathless, like she just broke out of jail.

“Yeah, they said all the debts have been paid too,” Ethan’s voice comes from the background, quieter but still audible. “What’s going on, Leni?”

“We’ll talk when I get home,” I murmur, stealing a glance at Romero’s rigid back. “I’ll explain everything.” I hang up before they can pepper me with more questions.

Shit. HowamI going to explain this without sounding like I’ve sold my soul?

“I need to go,” I tell Romero.

He doesn’t look back at me, just nods and waves his hand dismissively.Right.What did I expect—a goodbye kiss? I turn to leave, feeling strangely deflated.

“Let Dean take you home,” he calls out. “He’ll bring the car back to my place for safety reasons until you move.” I nod without turning around and keep walking. “We’ll have our first public outing tonight. Your driver will pick you up at eight.”

My driver.I pause at those words and glance over my shoulder, half-expecting him to finally meet my eyes.

He doesn’t.

So, with more hesitation than I’d like to admit, I leave his office.

Mom and Ethan took the news of my sudden relationship better than I expected. Way better.

Ethan was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, going on about how ‘cool’ it is that he’ll be related to Romero Lombardi, and I could see dollar signs dancing in Mom’s eyes as she processed what this meant for our family.

Not a single one of them stopped to question whether something might be off. Because they don’t actually care about me as a person—just what I can do for them. After all, me marrying Romero only benefits them. They get a fancy new house, financial security, and bragging rights in the neighborhood.

At least I know where I stand.

I push the bitter thoughts out of my head as I sling my purse over my shoulder and check my reflection in the small mirror in my room.

I’m not sure where we’re going, but knowing Romero, it’s probably a five-star restaurant or something. So I’m wearing a burgundy wrap skirt with a high slit up the left thigh and one of the spaghetti-strap crop tops I scored on clearance last year. I’ve never tried this combo since I rarely have occasions to wear skirts, but it looks amazing and makes me feel feminine.

I styled my hair half-up, half-down and pushed the loose strands over my shoulders to cascade down my back.I look incredible.I do a little twirl for the mirror, my heart skipping as I try to picture Romero’s reaction when he sees me. Would he say anything? Or would he just stare with that quiet heat in his eyes and make my knees forget how to?—

Okay,don’t spiral.

Once I slip on the black pumps I usually wear to work, I’m ready. Just in time.

The apartment is quiet when I step into the hall—no signof Mom or Ethan. I pause, frowning. Where did they go? They better not be out causing more trouble for me.

I glance out the window just as Romero’s sleek Maybach pulls up. Then drawing in a deep breath, I head for the door, making a mental note to get that broken lock fixed tomorrow.