Page 84 of Cruel Devil

“Christ.” I toss my phone down on the bed.

I grab my black silk robe from the back of a chair and slip it on as I storm toward the door. Most of the staff running this villa were older than Bryan when they started working here. The last thing I need is Marina or Inés having a heart attack after seeing me bare chested in my boxers…with a hard on.

But it’s not a withered cleaning lady standing outside the door. I gather up my robe, lashing the belt over my waist in an attempt to hide the bulge in the front of my boxers.

“Andy? What are you doing here?”

She looks surprised, like she was expecting someone else to rip open the door, but then shakes off the expression. “Vito,” she croaks.

Then she just stands there, green eyes wide, like she’s forgotten how to speak.

I lift my eyebrows at her. “Uh…do you need something?”

“Yeah…ummm…”

That’s when the smell of alcohol hits me. When I see the glassy look in her eyes, and the way her chin trembles.

I dart out of my room, squinting down both sides of the empty hallway.

“What happened?” I demand, but she’s already slipped past me into my room, heading not-quite straight for my bed.

Where my lube is.

Where my phone is lying with a porn video paused on the screen.

Fuck.

I rush past her, back handing the lube into the wastebasket as I turn and fall onto the bed. I land on my side, facing her, head propped on my elbow.

“This’s super inappropriate,” Andy says, pausing a few steps away from my bed.

She’s in one of the villa’s white silk guest pajama sets. A fluffy white robe covers it up down to her knees, but the knot she tied in the belt is on its last legs. Her hair is loose and a little tangled, like she’s been tossing and turning.

I reach behind me and shove my phone under a pillow. “You’re the one who knocked on my door, babe.”

“Ew. Don’t call me that.” She blinks at me a few times like she’s wondering what the hell she’s doing here. Then she seems to remember, snapping her fingers on the second go as she points at me. “Can’t sleep.” She purses her lips, shakes her head, and makes her unsteady way closer. “Brain won’t shut off.”

“Even with all that alcohol you’ve had?”

“Fucking Llorona,” she mutters angrily as she sways a little.

I frown at her. “Who the hell is…” I trail off into a chuckle. “Jesus, you were doing shots of Llorona with Nyx, weren’t you?” I click my tongue at her. “Thought you weren’t in the mood for drinks?”

“We decided on a girls’ night,” she says, sounding slightly defensive and a helluva lot more confused. “Bad idea.”

“The tequila, or making friends with Nyx?”

She stares off into the distance, then lets out a fat sigh, reluctantly crawling onto the foot of the bed. “Both. God.” She slumps down face-first, her hair spilling over my dark green sheets.

I have to restrain myself from reaching over and letting the strawberry-blond strands run through my fingers. My dick bobs in my lap, and I hurriedly move into a sit, grabbing a pillow and using it to smother my hard-on.

“You’re lucky you’re a guy,” Andy mumbles.

“Not right now, I’m not,” I say to myself.

She props herself up on her elbows, squinting at me. “What d’you say?”

“Nothing. Do you want to talk about it?”

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