Page 50 of The Devil's Secret

He talks to them with his back to me, and I can see his hands moving as they each gaze up at him, the blonde one running her nails up his arm while the one with the pink streaks in her hair bites on her lower lip, her dress matching the color of her strands.

My feet are moving before I have a chance to stop them. A smile falls to my face as I step out, the same one I gave the crowd that filled the club every night. Walking over, I come to stand beside Enzo, my palm roughly catching his shoulder as he glances questioningly at me.

“What are you ladies doing out here?” I ask innocently, while inside, disgust swirls. “It’s cold. Come in,” I continue, gesturing with a hand toward the house.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls into my ear.

I ignore him, my lips winding up.

“We’d love to!” the pink-haired one practically chirps.

They rush past me, marching right in, with Enzo and me following them.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps again, his hand reaching for my hip, his fingers harshly nipping at my skin, but it only makes the fire inside me burn brighter.

I narrow a glare. “You wanted them here? Well, who am I to stop you?”

“I didn—” he tries to explain but I peel his hand off me and join the women inside, who’ve already made themselves quite at home, their stilettos still on, a tanned leg crossed over the other.

I take my seat opposite them, while Enzo runs a hand through his hair, his forehead furrowed. He’s looking uncharacteristically nervous.

“Would you girls like some water or a glass of wine?” I ask, passing a glance at Enzo, whose eyes look like two large bullets aiming right at me.

My pulse beats faster as we stare each other down, my nails biting into my palm.

“We’d love some wine,” the blonde tosses, curling her lips as she stares at him.

He’s fucked them both. That much is obvious. My body grows numbingly cold, but I have no right to be jealous. He doesn’t owe me a thing. In fact, I’ve hurt him, turned him down more than once, and he’s still here, trying to help me.

He’s beaten Roman for merely putting his hands on me. What would he do if he knew what the Bianchis have done? What the men who pay them have done? Would he kill them? For me? A girl who means nothing to anyone anymore? An invisible soul trapped in a body burned with scars. That’s who I am. He can’t possibly fall in love with a woman like that. No. A man like him doesn’t want a girl who’s sold her body for money.

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I revert my attention back to him, his gaze still glued to mine, the anger weaved within it.

“Be a good host and go get them some wine,” I taunt, gripped with a feral possessiveness for a man I wish I could have.

His jaw twitches. I swallow against the ache in my throat, hating that these women got to have something I desperately want.

His chest roughly expands, then he marches out of the room. The last thing I want is to be stuck here with these women. I don’t even know why I did what I did, but with the envy swirling through me, I couldn’t control myself.

“So, who are you exactly?” pink hair asks. “We’ve never seen anyone else here before.”

“Yeah,” blondie chimes in. “Are you his sister or something?”

No, Joelle. Don’t do it.

But the thought to piss him off further is a lot more thrilling.

“Iamhis sister. We’re actuallyveryclose, maybe a little too close if you know what I mean.” I pop up a shoulder, leaning my face in with a flirty arch of my brows.

“Wha— Ugh. Do you mean you guys…” The blonde one bulges out her eyes.

“Wow.” The other flips her hair back. “You two look nothing alike.”

I think that just went past her tiny brain.

I shrug. “Our mom must’ve had too much fun with the mailman.”

In that moment, Enzo stomps back in, three glasses in his hands.

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