Chapter 3
ROMERO
Getting Eric released is just the beginning. I need to get my hands on the arrest reports and whatever evidence the prosecutors have so I can figure out the best angle to handle this case and—
A pair of worn-out blue sneakers attached to feet suddenly appear in my path, derailing my train of thought mid-stride.
I follow those sneakers up pretty ankles and long legs in faded jeans, over wide, luscious hips and a slim waist, to a pair of perky tits—and then the face.
“Hello, darling.” Her voice is soft and a little husky, somehow making my pulse kick all the way up to my throat.
And then I really see her.
I wouldn’t have thought the face could compete with the body, but it does. Spectacularly.
Her face is small, heart-shaped with sharp cheekbones that glisten under the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, bow-shaped lips that snag my attention for far too long, and smoky eyes under messy bangs she blows away in mild annoyance.
Delightful golden freckles scatter across her nose like someone threw glitter at a masterpiece and somehow made it even more perfect. I want to taste them. Every single one.
She’s obviously tired—dark circles hug her eyes, but instead of dulling her, they somehow make the rich color of her irises pop even more. And then there’s her hair: a wild, luminous mix of copper and gold, twisted up in a bun that’s slowly coming undone.
She’s gorgeous.
What’s she doing in this dirty place?
She’s studying me as I study her, those stormy gray eyes taking me in with an intensity that makes my skin burn.
A small, teasing smile plays on her full pink lips, soft and inviting—like she knows exactly the effect she’s having on me.
“Have you forgotten me so soon?” she asks, head tilting, lashes lowering.
“We had such a wonderful night last year in Vegas.”
Little liar.
One: There’s no way I’d ever forget spending a night with this beauty, no matter how long ago it was.
That hair alone would have branded itself into my memory forever.
I’ve heard of the term strawberry blonde, but I’ve never actually seen it in real life.
My hand tingles with the urge to touch it.
Would it be as warm and soft as it looks?
Two: I was nowhere near Vegas last year. In fact, I haven’t set foot there in close to three years, despite what the tabloids have spewed.
“So playboy of you, Romeo,” she goes on, turning my name into a tease I’d usually hate—but it sounds hot coming from her mouth. “I’ll try not to be too hurt that I wasn’t… memorable. But you know what you can do to make it up to me?”
Ah, there it is. The reason she’s engaging me, trying to charm me with those fuck-me eyes and that pouty mouth. She wants something from me. They always do. But I can’t bring myself to be mad. No one has ever been quite this audacious—pretending to be an old flame to get her way.
Women usually just try to flirt with me, thinking my ‘playboy’ reputation means I’ll fuck anything in a skirt.
But this one… fuck. I wouldn’t mind at all.
As if to underscore the thought, my pants tighten uncomfortably, and I clear my throat, adjusting my stance so she doesn’t notice.
“Before you tell me what I can do to make it up to you, why don’t you tell me how you managed to get yourself in this situation, bellezza?”
She blinks at me, seeming surprised that I’m playing along with her game.
Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? A quick shake of her head follows, like she’s annoyed with herself for forgetting her own script—but she rallies fast. “Remember my brother, Ethan? You probably don’t since I don’t talk about family with one-night stands. ”
My lips curl up in amusement. “Naturally.”
“That little shit went to a trap house in the hole—you know, the one popular for their… unsavory activities and drug dealing. I went there to drag him out, but of course, the cops showed up the second I stepped inside. Very inconvenient of them to pick that exact moment.” She sighs dramatically.
A chuckle builds in my chest, but I swallow it down.
She’s got balls, I’ll give her that. Walking into a trap house to get her brother?
Either she’s incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.
Maybe both. “Cops are selfish fuckers who don’t give a shit about how arresting people could inconvenience them. ”
“You get it.” Her smile is quick, genuine, and not nearly enough.
I want to see it again. Right the fuck now.
“I might have lost my job because of this,” she adds, her voice going soft in a way that punches straight through my defenses.
“So… can I tell you what you can do to make up for forgetting me now?”
And there it is—her endgame. She’s trying to manipulate me into getting her and her brother released for free, no doubt.
This isn’t the first time someone has tried it, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. But this is the first time I’m actually letting it happen without walking away in irritation.
Usually, I’d be halfway to the door by now, but something about her keeps me rooted to the spot.
She’s fascinating. Intriguing. Dangerous. At this moment, I might do anything she asks for. What the hell? I frown at the thought. Slow down, fucker.
Even though I already know what she wants, I want to hear her say it, so I wave her on. “Go ahead.”
“Get me and my brother out of here. I probably can’t afford your retainer fee, but…
do it for old times’ sake,” she says, just like I expected.
But what I didn’t expect is the saucy wink that follows, or the way she tilts her head back and her coppery-red hair spills out of its bun over her shoulders. Stunning.
Amusement rushes through me. She’s trying to seduce me now? I chuckle, even though it’s working. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
She straightens, red splotches blooming across her cheekbones and down her neck. “I’m really not,” she says quickly, voice flustered. “I told you, I was just trying to help my brother and—”
“Shh, don't spoil it,” I interrupt her with a smile. “I like trouble.” Especially when it comes wrapped in a package this pretty.”
She blinks up at me, her pink lips parting, but I turn around before she can speak. Before I can do something stupid like lean down and taste those freckles I’ve been obsessing over. No need to become more tangled in whatever spell she’s weaving. I’m already deeper than I should be.
The detectives sigh, exchanging wary glances as I walk back towards them.
They no doubt witnessed my exchange with the little troublemaker and know exactly what’s coming next.