Page 36 of The Devil's Secret

“As much as I love a hot woman with a weapon, especially when that woman is you, you need to stop pointing that thing at me, Joelle.” I can see his mouth move into that well-known smirk beneath his mask.

I should shoot him. I should make him pay for lying to me or more like omitting all the facts about himself. He’s a damn criminal. He’s no cop. “Fuck you, Enzo.”

He continues to smile in that way that would set me on fire. But now, I want to set him on fire instead. How could I be so stupid? Why did I think a normal man would want a woman like me?

He leans his back against the edge of the other side of the bar, staring over at me, and those eyes, I wouldn’t even need to hear his voice to recognize the vivid blaze of bright green.

“You should know by now the main reason I come here is for you. The way you own that pole…” He pauses, practically growling. “Damn, girl. You’re like a snake on that thing.”

Did he really just say that? The back of my nose burns. That’s all I was, just someone to look at?

But he never wanted me to strip. He insisted I didn’t, so why is he talking to me like that? But it’s not even worth asking. It doesn’t matter. We’re over. He’s clearly dangerous, and I don’t need any more danger in my life or in Robby’s.

Any man I bring into our world, if I ever have a life of my own, will be someone who could be a father to my boy. Someone good. Safe. Not whoever this Patrick or Enzo is. He’s a fabrication. Someone I manifested. Someone that doesn’t exist.

“How about you put that gun down and come out with us,” he says coolly. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I’m good here.” I tip up my chin, narrowing my eyes into a tight glare, hoping the gun gets him to leave me alone. “You can go.”

“Okay, sure, babe, you stay.” He shrugs, pulling back from the bar. “But it’d be a real goddamn shame to see all that beautiful skin burn to a crisp when we torch the place down. Wouldn’t want all that talent to go to waste.”

“Fuck you!” I shout, the anger crashing over me.

He shakes his head mockingly. “Such a pretty mouth saying such dirty things.”

You should hear what I actually want to say to you, asshole.

I almost have hope that he’ll give up on me and go, but instead, his leg snaps out and he kicks the gun right out of my grasp.

A gasp rushes out and I back into the end of the bar wall, my chest heaving with fear. He stares sharply as he lowers himself, gripping my forearm softly. “Stop fighting me, baby.” His voice falters with emotion. “I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.”

My heart seizes with a beat, my eyes watering for a fleeting moment, wanting that connection we had in what feels like forever ago. But no. I can’t fall into our trap. He’s not a safe choice. He’s a violent one.

“Don’t fucking touch me, you asshole!” I bellow, and he groans with a shake of his head before he roughly yanks me up. I kick out my feet, fighting him off, but it’s no use. He’s way stronger than I am. He stands me up, my chest rising harshly.

“Asshole?” There’s humor there, his free palm landing against his chest with feigned shock. “That was me being a gentleman. If I were an asshole…” He fists my hair, tugging my face right up to his. “I’d drag you out by your throat.”

I narrow another glare filled with vile contempt, frozen with the rage sheathing me. His breaths are even, unlike mine, as his jaw pulses through the fabric.

His gaze darts to my lips, and mine goes to his mouth. Is it wrong that the fire still burns for a man I shouldn’t want, not anymore, not after this? But I want him. I want us. I do. And I hate myself for it. What kind of woman am I for desiring a man such as him?

I can tell he feels it, that anger, but that wild attraction too. I can’t turn it off and neither can he.

We continue to stare at one another, battling without words, without weapons. I feel the rousing in my gut, that fear turning into awakened desire.

It’s sick. I’m sick. I want to rip away his mask and kiss him. Tell him how sorry I am for lying, for kissing that man he believed was my boyfriend.

He’s the only one I want, despite knowing what he’s capable of.

But it’s too late now.

We’re too far gone.

“Come on, man. Dante needs help!” someone hollers.

That causes him to rip away his eyes from mine. And I feel it. That loss. It burns.

“Yeah, shit. My bad.” He rubs the back of his neck for a moment, then pulls me away from around the bar.

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