Page 10 of Diamond In The Rough

I watch him repeatedly swipe my screen, his thick thumb marking up my phone as he digs shamelessly into my personal affairs. He checks my bank app, but backs out of it when asked for a passcode. Then he jumps to my social media, and answers his own question when my name and picture just pop right up.

“Tiia HulkMan…” Questioning, he glances up and meets my eyes. “Your name is Tiia HulkMan?”

“Tiia Hale.” Flashing my biggest, most reassuring smile, I snatch my phone back and offer the nosy man my free hand instead. “HulkMan is for privacy, since this world comprises creeps and weird dudes in basketball shorts who have no sense of the word.”

When he doesn’t accept my gesture, I reach out and grab his hand, forcing us to shake—and my bicep to bulge when Beefcake’s arm weighs a decent chunk. “You were pretty close on ‘Tee’, though.” I don’t release us. I don’t let his hand drop away. Maybe it’s the island blood running in my veins, but I purse my lips and hold his stare. “And you are?”

Please not Felix Malone, not Felix Malone, not Felix Malone!

“Micah.” He says the word quietly, but sternly. And though I have a moment of ‘Yes! Not big don Felix Malone’, my celebration lasts only until my brain catches up and realizes the name he did give.

Micah.

As in Micah freakin’ Malone.

Mafia!

“Are you and your friend intending to stay at CeCe’s awhile?” He peels his hand from mine and peeks down at my clothes. “You’re wearing cut-offs and combat boots. Not exactly appropriate attire for the establishment.”

Pot, meet kettle. “You’re wearing a sweaty tank. Don’t be rude.”

“I was jogging,” he drawls. “I had no intention of coming inside at all, but then I saw this chick, underdressed, walking alone, and being harassed by a fuckin’ bum.”

“Are you the bum?” I grip my bag strap, and smirk when his green eyes burn into mine. “No one else has grabbed me, shoved me against a wall, or stolen my private property except you.”

“Tiia!” comes a distant screech.

“Ooh.” I spin in search, because I recognize the voice of the woman who is here to save my life. Or, well, drink with me. But a handy byproduct of her arrival means I get to escape Brick-Wall. “Jazzy!”

I look back to Micah, but hook my thumb in the direction of my ditzy friend, slowly approaching in significantly less clothing than me. “My ride-or-die is here, so I’m gonna…” I take a step to the right, still riding the wall so the coarse brick grates against the denim covering my backside. “Nice to meet you, Micah.”

“No, it wasn’t. You didn’t like it at all.”

“Well, no,” I agree. “But if I forgot my manners, my mother would whoop my butt… and have fun doing it.”

I spy my bright-red-haired friend ten feet from where I stand, and wave a few fingers her way to let her know I’m coming.

“Have a nice life,” I murmur for the scary, and yet, irritatingly handsome, stranger. “Be safe.” I nod toward the front door. “Handsy dudes out there, snatching up people left, right, and center.”

I spin on my boots, and with my life still intact even after a run-in with a frickin’ mafioso, I make a dash for my friend, whose dress may be smaller than my top.

“You’re late!” I grab her manicured hand and make a beeline for the bar on the opposite side of the club. “I nearly died, Jaz.”

“What?” She maneuvers easily in her high heels, despite my rough-handling. “You’re being dramatic. Everyone is okay.”

“I ran into Micah frickin’ Malone!” I deposit my friend on a stool, then plop my ass on the one beside hers. “We’re in a mafia-owned club, and I was just alone with Mambo Number Two. Not really an adrenaline shot I wanted tonight.”

Scoffing, she peers over my shoulder so I know—I know—she’s looking for the man I speak of. “He’s cute. In that disheveled, just ran a marathon, probably fucks like a monster, kinda way.”

“He’s off-limits.” I turn to the bartender and smile when our eyes meet. “Soda water, please.”

I see his lips move in answer, and his piercing gray eyes burn into mine, but we’re closer to the speakers over here, and his lips are obscured by a bushy beard.

I furrow my brow. “What?”

He speaks again, the words rounder and more enunciated, so I make out Os and Ps, but still, I don’t understand.

I lean toward him just a little. “Huh?”

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