SIXTEEN #2
A shiver ran through me, the strength in his gaze doing something wicked to my stomach. My skin prickled under the weight of it, heat blooming at the back of my neck as I watched his attention rake over me until it settled on my face again.
His posture was casual as he leaned slightly back in the chair, but the way his hand rested on the desk, fingers drumming a few times before stilling, betrayed the tension in his shoulders.
To his side sat Vinnie, his usual debonair charm dulled by glazed eyes and a smirk that spoke of indulgence. A lithe and beautiful girl was tucked under his arm, her face turned up towards him with a coyness that matched the atmosphere. I ignored the fact that she was twenty years younger than him.
Vinnie noticed me, nudging Cain lightly with his elbow. Cain’s gaze veered to him briefly in warning before returning to me, his expression unreadable but no less intense.
‘I’ll get the drinks,’ Vinnie said smoothly, excusing himself as he stood and offered me a wink. The girl under his arm giggled, clinging to him as he guided her towards the bar, already murmuring something in her ear.
And then it was just us.
The noise and movement of the convention faded, leaving only the heavy thrum of blood in my ears and Cain’s steady gaze tethered to mine.
My pulse throbbed, but I held myself together, even as a part of me wanted to fidget under the scrutiny.
He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the desk, head tilting just enough to let a slow smirk curve his lips. Whatever game he thought we were playing, he was winning without even trying.
My throat worked around a breath, summoning every ounce of composure I had left. The night had barely begun, and already it was proving to be far more dangerous than I’d anticipated.
‘Where’s your stand?’ I asked, masking the spark beneath my voice with a rehearsed calm.
Cain looked briefly to the left, where a large display dominated the space.
His exhibition platform was impossible to miss – plush with sleek merchandise, his books and accessories arranged in perfect symmetry.
A small crowd of women and girls clustered around it, giggling and murmuring as they clutched fresh copies to their chests like treasures.
And then they started walking towards us.
‘Fuck my life,’ he muttered under his breath, and turned back with his best attempt at a smouldering grin.
I bit back a laugh as the effect hit his audience in full force. The girls practically melted on the spot. He leaned forward to sign their books, his rough, almost lazy signature accompanied by provocative little notes that had the women reeling and the girls nearly fainting.
When the last of them finally drifted off, cheeks flushed and hands clutching their purchases like lifelines, I shook my head at him, thoroughly amused.
‘What?’ he asked, his grin still lingering.
‘You’re despicable,’ I said, but the smile playing on my lips gave me away.
His grin widened, effortlessly sliding into a full-force smoulder – this time thoughtless and irresistible – as his gaze locked on me. I hated to admit it, but my knees gave the faintest of trembles. Maybe because this smile was real.
Thankfully, I had a bit more bite than his fan club.
‘I’m despicable?’ he shot back. ‘What did you tell those poor boys over there at the door to make them look like they were going to surrender their leashes to you?’ He gestured behind me with a casual flick of his hand.
I glanced over my shoulder, catching sight of the two boys that greeted me, still hanging by the entrance. Their faces melted into a blend of confusion and desire as they met my eyes, and I couldn’t help the sly smile that crept onto my face.
I shrugged. ‘It’s all just pretend-play here, isn’t it?’
Cain’s smile wavered for a split second, a rare crack in his cocky exterior. His gaze shot to my lips, held – and for a beat, I felt like prey that had just made the mistake of smiling. ‘So you like it then? The games, the roles… like they do?’
I leaned in, the space between us shrinking to something almost inappropriate. He didn’t blink, and neither did I.
‘I write them, don’t I?’ I said, letting the words swing like bait between us, daring him to bite. ‘Which means you like them, too. Don’t lie.’ I jabbed a finger in his direction, and his grin returned in full force.
Before he could reply, a shrill exclamation behind me broke the moment.
I turned to find two young women clutching my books, their faces lit with excitement.
I ordered a few boxes weeks ago, paid for a stand and a handsome young man in a mask to sell them. Glancing towards the centre of the club, I could see him working his magic – and one box was already empty and neatly folded beside the stand.
I grinned.
‘Hello, gorgeous!’ I said in Italian, my voice dipping into a husky warmth that didn’t match the moment. I blamed Cain entirely for the lingering tone. He was the reason my mind was tangled – and that was the story I was sticking to.
As I signed their books, I offered them compliments – small but genuine observations that made their faces light up.
One girl, her shoulders hunched and her frame practically folding in on itself, beamed when I mentioned her long, beautiful hair and how it matched the confidence of her leggings.
She walked away taller, straighter, her smile lingering, and my chest swelled with satisfaction.
‘What the hell was that?’ Cain asked, his voice cutting through my thoughts. ‘Are you playing for the other team, DeLuca?’
I blinked, replaying the scene in my head, and burst into laughter when I realised how it must have looked.
‘I’m straight, D’Angelo,’ I said, still chuckling. ‘But I believe all women are beautiful. And they need to know that.’
His brows shot up, his gaze teetering between disbelief and amusement. His short hair, ruffled in just the right way, caught the sheen of the neon lights that swept lazily across the room.
I wrenched my gaze away, scanning over the crowd.
Had he already arrived?
I glanced at my phone.
Was he somewhere in the shadows, watching – waiting – deciding what tonight would cost me?