Page 70 of Dance with the Devil

At my side, Cross stiffens. His expression is closed-off, but I look at his eyes and I see resignation. I challenged him to reject me again on his terms, whether he realized I did or not, by showing up at the Devil’s Playground. Did I know that he’d be there? Actually, I doubted he would be. But after everything that happened with Johnny Winter, I figured that there’d be more than a few Sinners lurking around the nightclub who would recognize me and jump to be the one to tell Cross that I was there.

It worked, too.

Part of me guessed that Damien was the reason behind Cross’s sudden silence. Cross admitted as much. But then he promised me forever, and backed it up with the reveal of the butterfly on his chest.

The least I can do is accept it.

I step back lightly on my feet, grabbing his bicep. “No. I’m staying here. With Cross.”

Damien firms his jaw. “Genevieve.”

“I said no, Damien.” I squeeze Cross’s arm. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-five-years-old. If I want to spend the night at my boyfriend’s house, I’m going to do that. Unless you’d rather I take my boyfriend home with me?”

“Boyfriend,” murmurs Cross.

“Okay. Boyfriend does sound kind of juvenile,” I admit. “But I thought, if I said ‘lover’, Damien might blow a gasket. Besides, you’re the first boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

“The only boyfriend you’lleverhave,” he interjects.

I laugh. Now how did I know that would be his reaction. “Right. Still, I’ve never got to use the term before. Let me have it for now.”

Cross sighs in almost mock resignation. “I guess it’ll do until you call me ‘husband’.”

I kiss his butterfly, and for a second, I completely forget that Damien is still standing right there. It’s usually so hard to ignore his presence, but over the years, I’ve had some practice at it. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, I made my stance very clear. I’m not going anywhere with Damien.

Not now.

Not until I forget how stinking pissed I am at him.

Knowing my moods, that won’t take long, but for fuck’s sake? Can’t he at least let me have tonight?

Seems like that answer is actuallyyes.

“Well. It seems as if I might’ve interrupted something that I would’ve much preferred not to interrupt. In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. But Genevieve? I expect you home tomorrow for dinner.”

I try not to let my smile widen too much. “I need studio time. Don’t forget, I have that new company to audition for. Remember, Savannah? Riverside? So I’ll be home early and I’ll stick around—but only if Cross can eat with us.”

Damien exhales. “If he must. But just dinner. If you want to spend the night with your… boyfriend, then you can do so here.”

“It’s called fucking, honey,” calls out Savannah.

“Thank you, cara mia,” responds Damien. “And just to prove that your husband hasn’t forgotten the world at all, I’ll make sure to lead you right to the bedroom once we’re home again.”

Vin groans. “Can you drop me off at Il Sogno first? I could use a glass of wine before I pretend like I’m not the only Libellula not getting laid tonight.”

“I think that can be arranged, Vin. Especially since it seems as though I was a little hasty to think Genny needed another rescue.” He smiles indulgently at me as he reaches the driver’s side, then nods at Cross. “In fact, I’d be more concerned about her young man here.”

Cross’s arm lowers, draping around my waist as he tugs me close to him. “I think I can handle her.”

Savannah’s husky laugh carries over to us on the still night air. “That’s what he thought, too.”

As Damien lets himself into the car, head shaking even as he immediately grabs for Savannah’s hand, I can’t help but grin.

If my relationship with Cross ends up half as strong as the one Damien found in his would-be murderess, I might just get my happily-ever-after.

TWENTY-FIVE

FIRE

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