Page 12 of Empire State Enemies

Deep breaths, Lexi. You’ll find a way through this.

“You sick fuck,” I seethe through clenched teeth. “Go rot in hell, you and that stupid goat beard. Prancing around pretending you’re Scarface doesn’t make you tough.”

In my mind, I gleefully dig his grave, eyes wild as I shovel dirt onto his arrogant face. Maybe I’ll braid daisies and ribbons into his beard—really doll him up. He’d hate that.

I jab the end call button hard enough to bruise, then release a frustrated groan that echoes off the walls.

Drawing a deep breath, I fling open the bathroom door.

And stop dead.

There, by the sink, stands a formidable figure, veins bulging from clenched fists gripping onto the edges of the porcelain sink. His back muscles ripple beneath his tight T-shirt as he leans over the basin, his strong jaw and full lips set in a silent snarl visible in the mirror.

Oh shit.

Piercing blue eyes slice into me through the reflection.

I drop my phone with a sickening crack.

FOUR

Lexi

For a second, we just stare at each other in the mirror, him looming over the sink, me a deer in headlights barely breathing.

“Might wanna close that mouth before something flies in,” he rumbles.

My heart races as I scramble to grab my cracked phone, my hands all shaky. How much did he hear?

“Sorry about that little outburst,” I say, trying to sound casual as I move to the sink beside him. I turn on the faucet just for background noise. “How much of it did you have to suffer through?”

Please say none of it. PLEASE SAY NONE OF IT . . .

“I wasn’t listening to your boyfriend drama,” he mutters, all gruff and dismissive.

Wow, okay, dick. But thank god.

“Still, sorry if I disrupted your peace,” I mumble.

“For such a little mouth, you swear like a sailor,” he chides with a disapproving scowl. His lip curls in distaste. “Lower the vulgarities. This is a classy establishment, not a damn dockyard.”

I bristle at his condescending tone. “Guess you heard more than you let on,” I reply breezily. “But hey, swearing is in my job description. How did you know I’m a sailor?”

Idiot. Worst comeback in history.

But since he hasn’t dragged me outside to shoot me yet, I’m banking on the fact he didn’t hear anything too incriminating.

He spares me a brief dismissive glance, then he’s back to staring at the sink. So much for this guy’s legendary charisma.

“Sorry us sailors don’t live up to the high-class standards around here,” I remark, voice tinged with sarcasm. “It’s been one of those days.”

I risk a longer look at him. Damn. Up close, his intense, almost harsh good looks hit harder. All rugged edges that could cut you open if you got too close. The kind of unfair handsome that likely opens any door he wants, whenever he wants. Legs too. I’d bet Mom’s care home fee he’s never heard the word no.

The masculine energy coming off him is stifling. And he reeks of top-shelf spirits.

He glowers at the sink like it insulted his mama. Any second now I expect punches to start flying at the poor thing.

I turn off the tap, pulse racing. I hadn’t expected to get this close.