Page 80 of Not Mine to Keep

“So he said himself, but that was not what I’d been expecting, and I ...” I blinked, still reeling from shock. “Who’s the guy down there?”

“A sinner, not a saint, I can promise you that,” was all he gave me, and that wasn’t good enough.

Swallowing down a bit more liquor for the sake of courage I now needed, I demanded, “Do better than that. More details.”

Hudson folded his arms, hanging back in the doorway. “Side-gig thing.”

I set aside the glass, needing to pull myself together and not get drunk. “What does that mean?”

“Consider that man a predator, someone who goes after those weaker than him.”

Maybe I didn’t want to know. Jesus.

“We hunt the hunter before he can catch his prey, if you get what I’m saying. And Alessandro’s been in the hunting mood.”

My hand slapped to my abdomen, and my stomach roiled. “I think I get it. Will you, um, kill him?”

“No. Just making sure he understands there are things much worse that can happen—aside from prison time—after he gets out of jail, so he doesn’t fuck up again.” His casual tone about the “side gig” of torturing people should’ve had my stomach turning more. Strangely, it didn’t.

I swiveled around and dropped my hands to the desk, but chills flew up my spine when I realized we were no longer alone.

“Handle him for me,” was all Alessandro said, and at the sound of the door shutting, I forced myself to face the music—my angry husband, who’d been playing some type of punisher role.

His back was to the door. Mask gone. In black dress pants and a dark button-up shirt, sleeves cuffed at the elbows, he was back to looking like the billionaire businessman, but the dark, stormy look still clung to his eyes, giving away the fact he was much more than that.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said in a low but steady tone.

“I, um.” My back went to the desk, and I set my hands down for support. “You hung up on me, and we needed to talk.”

He angled his head, brows slanting as he casually said, “So talk,” as if I hadn’t caught him torturing a guy in his basement.

“I wouldn’t have come if I’d known what you were doing. You shouldn’t have answered the phone.”

He gave me a funny look I couldn’t read before saying, “You’ve never called me before, since being in New York; of course I’m going to answer.”

“Well, I um, thought you were doing something much different,” I confessed, fiddling with my diamond ring, even though it now fit perfectly since I’d had it sized a few days ago.

Alessandro’s eyes cut to my ring for a moment before moving back to my face, and there was a flicker of anger there. “I wasn’t fucking someone.”

“Clearly.” I gulped.

He pushed away from the door and stalked across the room. “You were jealous.” Statement, not a question, and it had me lowering my hand to my side before I struck the words free from where they hung heavy in the air.

Because I hated the truth of them. Also despised the burn of jealousy in my stomach and chest still there, even knowing he hadn’t been with another woman tonight.

“What were you planning to do? Come here and catch me in the act? And then what?” Was he seriously wanting me to answer that? And why’d his voice sound so flat and void of emotion when my insides were flooded with an entire dictionary full of feelings?

My fingers curled into my palms, still in need of the support of the desk to keep me from slipping into a puddle before this man. “I’m going to Nashville tomorrow. I’m set to perform at nine,” I said at the memory of the other reason I was there, opting not to give in to his inquisition.

He closed the last bit of space between us and cupped my chin, a gentle touch despite the angry flare of his nostrils and the look of darkness still flashing in his eyes. “You think this is the best time to fuck around with my emotions?”

“And the idea of me going to Nashville does that? Fucks with your emotions?” I tried to stand my ground, even though I was seconds away from my knees buckling.

His hand slid to the side of my neck before going back to my ponytail, and he fisted my hair and tugged. Still a light touch despite the harsh words, he brought his mouth over my ear. “You pissing me off, in the mood I’m in, is a very bad idea, sweetheart.” His rough voice had goose bumps flying over every inch of my skin.

“Why?” I challenged, unable to stop myself.

He brought his face back to mine, letting go of my ponytail. “You know exactly what your misbehaving and coming here makes me want to do.”

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