Page 60 of Diamond In The Rough

“You’re a very suspicious person, you know that?” I slide off my stool and snatch cash from my junk drawer, then moving to the door, I brush past the man whose fingers feather across my hip when I pass.

Maybe it was an accident. A result of our proximity.

Or maybe nothing he does is an accident. In which case, he touched me on purpose. Because he wants to.

And of course, my treacherous body breaks out in goosebumps.

Ignoring the sensation, I fist the door handle, but pause when Micah growls in warning.

So before I open the door, I ask, “Who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Mr. Chan clips out, his cadence unmistakable.

Swinging the door open, I smile for the man a whole foot shorter than I am, and trade him cash for a bag of dumplings. “Thank you.”

And because I’m feeling a little daring, I lean through the doorway and look left. I scan the hall, empty but for Mr. Chan and the hardwood flooring. I recognize the smell of mold, though I’m yet to actually see any. When I look to the right, I grin, because Micah’s hand holds onto my hip again.

Tight. Commanding. And ready to tug me back in if I don’t stop messing with him.

“The coast is clear.” I look left again and watch as Mr. Chan leaves, his next delivery probably already making his phone vibrate. “No one is here to hurt us.”

“You think you’re immune to bad shit.” He drags me back inside and slams the door loud enough to make the walls rattle. Then he flips the locks and relieves me of my second-dinner, carrying it to the counter as though it may be the more dangerous dish inside my home tonight.

Chinese, delivered by a little Asian man in exchange for money.

Or Italian, delivered by an Irish hitman who has made a habit of threatening and grabbing me.

“Your overconfidence is the reason you end up in dark alleyways, running into people who might eventually hold a knife to your throat.”

“First of all, it wasn’t dark. Manhattan is incapable of reaching that state. It’s why I live here. Second,” I smirk, “I’ve seen the error of my ways.”

I have no clue where my levity and fearlessness come from. But I tease the man, quietly assured that, if he wanted me dead, I’d probably already be without a pulse.

“I promise to never again exist outside my apartment after six p.m.” I head back to the counter and pick at my pasta. It’s good, and Chinese food just isn’t what I want anymore. “Did you always want to be….” I clear my throat. “In stocks?”

He sets the extra food down and peeks across to make sure my front door stays closed.

“I mean,” I continue, since I’m a nervous chatterer, “if you had the option to be anything else…”

“I’ve never really thought about not being… in stocks.” His lips twitch with a handsome playfulness that sneaks up and charms me in the least expected times. “When a man is born into that world, and his rational, independent thinking skills don’t kick in till he’s about ten years old, by then, it’s already who he is. It’s what he lives with. It’s who his family is. I can’t be any less in stocks than you can crave spam.” His eyes glitter with mischief. “You like spam, right?”

“Because my name is Tiia Ailani Hale?” I sit back on my stool and purse my lips in a scowl. But my faux offense cracks almost immediately. “Yes, I enjoy fried spam for breakfast. Shut up.”

He picks up his half-eaten pizza and takes a bite. “Do you want to work in antiques? If you could do anything, be anyone, would you work for Jakeline Colby?”

“Not for Jakeline.” I pick up our soda and take a sip until the cold liquid touches the base of my stomach. “But I would work in antiques, for sure. And I’d probably travel the world in search of artifacts for really rich, really dumb people.” I drop my gaze and snicker. “But I’d do it on my own terms. If I had the means, I would buy Jakeline’s store and happily live out my days, buried in forgotten treasures. I might even buy a potted plant and attempt to keep it alive.”

“Your ivy is doing okay.” He rests on his elbows and studies my face. “It’s sitting in my greenhouse right now, sucking down the nutrients you’ve neglected to feed it for six months straight.”

“Is it expected to make a full recovery, doc?”

His lips curl high. Disgustingly, annoyingly, sinfully sexy and alluring. “Not only will she recover, but I’ll propagate her babies and make more of her. And since you asked…” He takes a bite and grins around the greasy chunk, “If all else failed to exist and I had nothing else to do, I would spend my days in my greenhouse.” He looks to the door, a single brow perched high. “I have a reputation to maintain on these streets, though, so don’t tell anyone.”

I snort, piggish and noisily and just ridiculous enough to bring his hungry eyes back to me.

“Can’t have those other thugs finding out about your gentler side. It would ruin you.”

“You have no fuckin’ clue. How much would it cost to buy Jakeline’s shop?”

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