Page 85 of Diamond In The Rough

“Like I said.” I unlock my phone screen and find Tiia’s name. I’d much prefer to spend my time focusing on her. On what may become of the future, rather than what happened in the past. “It sounds cold,” I admit. “And ungrateful. But I don’t want to know about her.”

Tiia: So I’ve thought about it…

Tiia: I accept your invitation to dinner. But you have to stay with me the whole time. I don’t want to spend time with Felix unless you’re by my side. And if I see something illegal: no I didn’t. I swear not to tell the cops, and you swear to not fit me for cement shoes.

Chuckling, though the sound feels foreign to my swirling mind, I hit dial, but I look at our driver. “Head to the East Village. Drop me off.” Then I turn to Lix. “You go to the house, and send Garth back to get me. Tiia’s coming for dinner.”

His eyes light up. Pleasure rippling through his expression so vividly, I want to hit him just to make it go away. “Dinner?”

“Behave. Christabelle?” I speak to the phone, still live in his hand. “You make him behave.”

“Hello?” Tiia answers, her voice trilling and soothing, all in the same breath. “Micah?”

I bring the phone to my ear and finally, for the first time in hours, breathe a little easier. “Hey. I’m on my way to your place. I know I said I’d be there at six, but I wanna see you sooner.”

16

TIIA

PRETTY SURE I HAVE A DEATH WISH

Adrenaline slams through my veins as I sprint the length of my apartment and hurriedly, dangerously, hook one shoe onto my foot and try not to pitch face-first into the floor. I wear a dress; I’m not sure why, when I prefer jeans. Or shorts. Or hell, underwear and an oversized shirt as I lounge around my apartment and avoid the heat.

But, like, this is a job interview-esque dinner, so I chose a cute little piece that flows to about two inches above my knees and cinches in at my waist. Minimal cleavage on display, because god forbid I sit across the table from the Felix Malone, and he cops an eyeful of my boobs, intentional or not.

Worse, sitting across from the Christabelle Cannon, and showing her man my boobs.

I’ve always considered Felix to be one of the most dangerous beings in this city. I mean, his reputation precedes him, and though it’s not like I’ll bring up such topics over steak and wine, I’m pretty sure there are countless unsolved crimes that all have his name attached.

But now he’s practically hitched. Which surely means she has become the most dangerous, no…?

Nevertheless, it’s not a risk I’ll willingly accept.

So if I have to go to that house tonight, clinging to Micah’s hand, wearing an outfit I would wear to the shop, and sewing my lips shut for fear of asking a mafia don about his criminal activity, then I guess that’s what I’m doing.

Oh, how my life has changed this year.

I stop in the hall outside my bedroom and bend to fix the straps on my sandal, pushing leather through a steel buckle, and feeding the clasp through the gap.

My hands shake.

Are they shaking?

They’re shaking!

And because I’m folded over, blood rushes to my head and leaves me red-faced.

Probably means I should get back to the gym after my hiatus of laziness and bad decisions.

Finishing with one shoe, instead of running again and risking death, I slip the second on, wiggling my toes until they’re comfortable, and working on the strap until it’s fitted where I want.

“I was supposed to have until six o’clock,” I grumble, feeding the metal pin through the hole. “It’s only five.”

“But I missed you.”

Hands touch my hips, and a bellowing, aching scream sprints through my chest as my back snaps straight. But I don’t get to spin. Or release the cry from its bubble in the depths of my throat. Because a heavy hand comes up to my mouth, and the other, like a seatbelt across my torso.

“No screaming, Grá. It’s just me.” He presses his body to mine. His broad chest to my back, and his hardened cock to my backside. He wraps himself close and sets his chin on my shoulder. “Relax.”

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