Chapter 8 #3
“Christ, woman. You’re not dying, are you?” he grumbles, stalking forward to pat me none too gently on the back.
I’m still coughing, or I’d offer him a snarky response. Also, I think he’s enjoying thumping me on the back just a little too much.
Finally, I catch my breath and move a step away from him. “I’m fine, but thanks for the dubious concern. Why are you here?”
“I’ve been ordered to babysit you and take you safely back to your room.”
“Babysit me?”
I mean, it’s true that I’m currently sporting water I dribbled down the front of my dress, but I still object to the term. Besides, he’s the last person who should be entrusted with watching out for me. I don’t know if he wants to fuck me or kill me. Maybe both.
He eyes the dark stains on my dress, which happen to be right over my breasts. “Need a napkin?”
“It’ll dry,” I snap. “And I don’t need you to babysit me. Did Luna seriously ask you that? Where is she?”
I look around the reception hall, but I don’t see her. She must have already exited stage left with Priest.
“She’s gone,” he confirms. “Priest carried her out of here a minute ago.”
“Well, thanks for the offer, but I’m good.” I grab my bouquet, wincing as I touch the thorn I forgot was there for the second time. “Ouch.”
“What’s wrong?”
I glare at him. “You don’t have to play nice because your brother asked you to. I’m fine. Really. Go crawl back under the rock you came from.”
“That’s not very nice, Emily.”
“I thought it was Jane.”
He shrugs. “I like variety.”
“Funny. So do I.” I wield my bouquet at him like it’s a magic wand. “See you never.”
I turn away from him, picking my way through tables and trying hard to ignore the fact that he’s trailing me. Fine. He can follow me all he wants. That doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge his annoying ass.
I stop before the elevator bank in the main lobby, intent on getting back to the haven of my room, when I fumble around for my clutch so that I can extract my room keycard to run the elevator to my floor.
But I don’t have it. Somehow, all I’m carrying is my bouquet.
Panic hits me. Shit. My phone is in my purse, and so is what’s left of the cash I brought along with me so that I could tip the bartenders.
As I spin around to retrace my steps, there’s Alessio, sauntering up to me, my light-blue clutch dangling from his tatted fingers.
“Missing something?”
“Did you steal my purse?” I swipe at it, and he holds it too high for me to reach.
He gives me a dark look. “I’m not a thief.”
“Ah,” I drawl. “So in the grand scheme of things, murder, drug dealing, extortion, and illegal gambling are all morally sound, but being called a thief is one step too far? I get it now.”
As I taunt him, it occurs to me that I’m not supposed to be mentioning anything regarding the Andriani family’s Mafia ties in public. Luna specifically asked me not to. Damn it. A quick look around reassures me that no one is standing close enough to us in the lobby to overhear.
The elevator doors glide apart, and inside, it’s empty. Also, I haven’t hit the up button yet. I’m reasonably sure Alessio summoned the elevator, but I have no idea how.
“Get in,” he says, his voice taut and cold.
“Give me my purse back.”
“Say please, Jane.”
I jump and try to get it, annoyed that he’s back to calling me Jane, but he only dangles it higher. He’s too tall and I’m too short.
The doors start to close, so I give up and block them with my arm, stepping inside. He follows me and taps his keycard on the panel before pressing the eight button. The doors slide shut, and the elevator lurches into motion, taking us up to my floor.
He’s still dangling the purse. “You know, if you can’t ask for it nicely, I’m not sure if you should have it.”
“I think you got it backward and I’m the one who’s supposed to be babysitting you. Because it’s obvious to me which one of us is the child.”
He moves toward me suddenly, invading my space. I have no choice but to scramble backward to avoid him, which I do because coming into direct contact with this man in an empty elevator seems like the best and worst idea I’ve ever had.
My back hits the wall. And he’s there, right there. Towering over me. Exuding menace and sex. Crowding me. His face is cast in granite, harsh and annoyed. I’m a fly buzzing around the lion’s head, and he’s about to smash me with one graceful paw.
“Say it.”
He wants me to say please. And for some reason, the more he prods me to use my manners, the less I want to use them.
I glare back at him. “I’m not going to thank you for stealing my clutch.”
“I didn’t steal it. You left it on the table and walked off with nothing but your bouquet.”
Fine. I believe that he didn’t take my purse. And yes, I am tipsy and probably forgetful. I likely never even picked it up. Just grabbed my bouquet and ran. But if I did, I blame him for it. If he hadn’t been unsettling me, I wouldn’t have been so eager to get the hell out of there.
“I was going back for it,” I tell him defiantly. “I didn’t need your help.”
He shakes his head. “Guess I’ll be keeping it, then.”
I jump up, my breasts bouncing in my dress. He notices.
“Careful, Jane. You’re giving me quite a show.”
“You jerk.” I shove at his chest. “Give me my purse.”
“All you have to do is say one word.”
“Dick,” I snap, lunging for it again.
“Wrong word.”
The elevator stops, but the doors don’t open. A new wave of alarm hits me.
“Oh my gosh, are we stuck in here?”
Being trapped in a confined space with him is not how I’m going to spend the rest of my evening. Oh no. I’ll pry those doors open myself if it’s the last thing I do.
“I’ll let you out when you say please like a good girl.”
There it is again. Something is wrong with me, because I want to wrap myself around him when he says it.
The rum. Has to be the rum.
“Please give me my clutch, you dick,” I grit out. “What did you do to the elevator, anyway?”
I have no clue how he managed to get it to stop but keep the doors closed.
He laughs like he’s having the best time ever, and he probably is because he’s a perverse bastard. “Careful. When you insult me, it makes me want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock again as I come down your throat.”
That takes all the air out of my lungs. My pussy clenches. Because I’m remembering what it felt like, taking him into my mouth. How he tasted. The way he sounded, a strangled moan to let me know how much he liked what I was doing to him. How big he was.
“I hope you enjoyed it, because that’s the only time it’ll ever happen.”
His smile is smug arrogance personified. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
Then he lowers the purse so it’s within my reach. I snatch it out of his grasp, as irritated with him as I am with myself. He’s not wrong. I am thinking about it.
He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, taps his screen twice, and the elevator doors slide open with a cheerful ding. “I think this is your floor.”
One glance at the illuminated numbers on the wall over his shoulder proves that it is. I breeze around him, gripping my bouquet in one hand and my purse in the other. “No need to walk me to my door.”
“Don’t want to get on my sister-in-law’s bad side,” he drawls, following me out of the elevator.
“I find it difficult to believe you’re not already there,” I toss over my shoulder.
I’m halfway down the hall before I realize I went in the wrong direction.
Huffing a sigh of annoyance, I spin around and find him where I left him, standing there like a mobster king, arms crossed as he waits for me to realize my mistake.
“Forget where your room is?”
He has me flustered. Badly. But I refuse to admit it.
So I ignore him and stalk past. By the time I finally get to my actual room, I’m even more agitated.
I drop my bouquet while I’m fishing through my clutch for my room keycard, because I didn’t bother to set up the app on my phone.
In hindsight, I really should have done that.
Alessio picks up the flowers for me as I finally find the smooth plastic of the card and withdraw it to tap the door.
The light blinks green, and the bolt clicks open.
I’m in a hurry to get away from him, so I throw a hasty thanks over my shoulder without making eye contact, grab my bouquet, and step inside.
“Have the night you deserve,” I tell him before slamming the door in his arrogant face.
I think I hear him chuckling as he walks away. And of course, I press my eye to the peephole, watching him strut back down the hall like he owns the place.
Then again, he does, at least in part.
With a low growl of irritation, I kick off my sandals and toss my purse onto the freshly made bed before I flip the privacy latch over. Time to fall into bed and catch up on some much-needed sleep. My maid of honor duties are over.