Page 5 of Passion and Revenge

His eyes light up with a glint. “I don’t go on dates, S.”

“How unfortunate for every straight woman on the planet then.”

“Does that include you?” he asks.

I peek at him from under my lashes and murmur, “Maybe.”

He reaches out and tugs my lip free from my teeth. I freeze as his thumb makes the brief contact, the look in his eyes pinning me in place and making my insides burn.

“You’re going to bite your lip raw,” he chides.

My face is hot, and I don’t understand what’s going on. Why do I have this all-consuming reaction to this man? This isn’t butterflies in my stomach. It’s an atomic bomb that’s razing all my inhibitions to the ground.

“And I’m quite jealous that I’m not the one doing the biting,” he adds in a low voice.

Images of him biting down on my lip flash through my head, each one more sensual than the last.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “What are you thinking right now?”

I slant him a coy look and reply, “Nothing all that interesting.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

I laugh. “It’s my secret.”

“You should know that the best way to get me fixated is by trying to keep a secret from me.” His voice is a whisper fluttering between us, and I realize how close we’ve gotten.

Anyone looking at us will get the wrong impression. But I don’t care. Wild horses can’t pull me away from this man, even if they give it their best shot.

“Would you?—”

I never get to hear the rest of his words because Mr. Santiago’s assistant, Veda, suddenly walks up to us with her gaze trained on the stranger, much to my annoyance.

“Miss Marino, I never got your signature on the final contract.”

“Excuse me.” I hold up my index finger to the man, and he gives me a sharp nod, his gaze closed off.

“I didn’t get a contract,” I inform the brunette when I turn to her.

“Oh,” she says without sparing me a glance. “Are you sure?”

I grit my teeth as the realization that this has nothing to do with a contract and everything to do with the blue-eyed man hits me.

“Yes, I’m sure.” My words come out cold enough for her to finally turn to me, her eyes wide.

“In that case, please see me after the event,” she says before going back to gazing at the man. Then, she rudely sticks out her hand to him, dismissing me.

“Hi, I’m Veda Ar?—”

“I’m sure somebody else is in need of your services,” he interrupts. The man’s voice is different, and the icy authority dripping from each syllable makes me shiver, but not in a good way.

She jolts and, without another word, hurries off, her heels clacking against the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry about that, Mr.?” I wait for him to tell me his name, but he doesn’t, so after a few moments, I clear my throat and try again, saying, “I’m Sienna Marino. And you are?”

“I thought we’d get to keep our anonymity for a little while longer.” The words sound like an accusation. “I’m Vincent.”

“You were asking me something?” My words come out small and nervous. Something changed between the time of Veda’s arrival and now.

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