Page 27 of Twisted Fate

I stumble over the change of subject. “Almost five months.”

“So you met Enzo almost as soon as you stepped into the city?”

And we’re back to Enzo. “Pretty much.”

“How did you meet him?”

“He was at a party.”

“Whose party?”

“I don’t know. I went with my brother.”

Damian leans forward, grabs my ankles and drags me along the couch until I’m right next to him. He could bruise me, hurt me, but his hands are gentle, warm against my skin. He strokes my ankle, my calf. I inhale a shuddering breath and wet my suddenly dry lips.

He traces the tip of his finger along the outside of my thigh to my hip, then cups my chin, his thumb dragging along my lower lip. My pulse is a runaway train, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes lifting to mine. This close, I can see every dark, curled lash.

“I—” I pull free of his touch and look away, unsettled, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the twinkling lights and the Sphere.

“What did you see in Enzo?” he whispers against my ear.

Startled by how close he is, I jerk my attention back to his face. If I move even an inch, my lips will be on his and his on mine. I want to close that distance so badly. Instead, I ease back. Damian Russo isn’t just a bad boy. He is a very bad man. A very dangerous man.

And right now, he holds my life and the life of my brother in his hands.

“What did I see in Enzo? The truth is, not much. I didn’t know anyone in Vegas except Markus. I was lonely. Bored. Markus took me to a party. When Enzo asked for my number, I gave it to him. When he asked me out, I went. The first couple of times, we had fun. Afterward, he texted me funny memes and jokes. Asked my opinion about things.”

“What things?” Damian asks.

“I don’t know… music, food, movies, shows…”

“Go on,” he says when my voice trails away.

“He seemed so focused on me, so interested. He was charming. Then his façade started to crack. I started to see who he really was. He started dismissing everything I said, telling me my opinions were stupid. He’d make me change my outfit if he didn’t approve of what I was wearing, make me redo my makeup until he was satisfied. He’d order my dinner without asking what I preferred. But every time I tried to pull away, to say no to his invitations, he’d just show up and push his way back into my life. And I was stupid enough to let him.”

“Not stupid,” Damian says. “Men like him have a way of doing things.”

Men like him? What does Damian mean by that? Isn’t he just as dangerous as Enzo?

No. He isn’t. He’s more dangerous, more powerful. And right now, I am completely under his control.

I wrap my arms around myself. “Fuck. I don’t want to talk about Enzo,” I say, wriggling away from Damian. He lets me go but he watches me with that dark, fathomless gaze.

“But I do,” Damian says, his voice a low rumble. “So let’s talk.”

I shake my head. “I still don’t know where he is.”

“He’s somewhere,” he says.

“Or he’s dead,” I whisper, regretting letting the words out the second they leave my lips.

His jaw tenses. “That would be very inconvenient.”

“Why?”

“Because it robs me of the pleasure of killing him myself.”

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