Page 28 of Unhinged Little Angel

“You know that’s not what I meant, Angioletto.” He steps closer to me and lowers his voice, talking only to me in a room full of a hundred drunk, horny people.

My nipples harden but I refuse to shiver or squirm.

“After you left, I got a text from Damnation saying he twisted his ankle on stage earlier and was hoping I could cover the last couple hours of his shift.” I lick my lips and let a slow, teasing smile spread across them. “You're not going to give me some bullshit about not wanting your husband to shake his ass on stage for money? Some macho, possessive line about how I belong to you now?”

A deep, husky laugh bursts from Salvatore's lips, and I wish it didn’t make my heart beat just a little faster.

“No. I’d warn any man who tries to put a hand on you that he’ll end up with his fingers broken, but I think you’ve already got that covered.” He cups my jaw and drags his thumb over the rough stubble I haven’t had the chance to shave yet. “Myproblem is that you haven’t slept in two days and your stalker might be here.”

His grip on my jaw tightens a fraction and he glances away from me to look around the club, like he’s expecting to see someone holding up a camera and wearing a t-shirt that says “I heart stalking” sitting two tables over.

“That’s the point.”

Salvatore’s eyes are back on mine, dark and intense. My pulse stutters again, but I shake off the weird feeling that this shit I’m dealing with might actually matter to him.

“What’s the point, Angioletto?” he asks, sounding tired.

Even though I just mentally mocked him for it, I glance over my shoulder and let my attention roam around for a minute, hoping to spot anyone who looks like they might be here with the sole purpose of watching me. And not in the ‘hand down their pants’ way. It’s impossible to tell though. Salvatore’s thumb drags absently along my jaw again and I look back at him.

“That he might be here. Then he can take another picture and send this one to Don.” Hell, if I’m lucky, he’ll frame the photo so Lorenzo and the rest of his Mafia cronies are all in the shot. These guys, with their expensive Italian suits and air of self-importance, might as well have a flashing sign over their head that says Mafia.

In my high heels I’m tall enough to just lean forward and meet Salvatore’s lips. A possessive growl rumbles in his chest, and he slides one hand under my open shirt to loop it around my waist, deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps over mine, reminding me of the way he laid me out on the bed and licked my body until I was trembling and horny enough to beg him like he wanted.

I bite down on his lower lip and he hisses into my mouth. His fingers dig in harder and his hard cock nudges against mine. His lips are bruisingly rough against mine, demanding mysubmission, the heat building between us every time I bite or teasingly pull back instead of giving in. Is it a power struggle or is this just foreplay? The fact that I’m not sure makes my adrenaline spike and my heart beat faster.

“Unless you want him to get a picture of me bending you over the nearest table, I think that’ll have to do, Angel,” he murmurs, holding my chin and panting out a few unsteady breaths before he pulls himself back into the calm, collected Sal I’m used to.

“Picture…?” I shake my head, dazed by the flashing lights and lack of sleep, not from the kiss. “Right, a picture of us kissing to send to Don.” I swallow and nod, pulling myself together just as quickly as he managed to. “So, drinks? Who needs a refill?” I wipe my chin, sure Sal smeared my lipstick everywhere. I’m even more sure when I see him staring at my mouth with the same intense look in his eyes that he had when he saw me wearing his shirt. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him again. Such a caveman. His dick gets hard at the idea of marking his territory. I swear to fuck, if he tries to pee on me, I’ll shoot him with his own gun.

“Be honest, is he blackmailing you into this or what?” Alessio asks, putting his feet up on the table and rocking back in his chair, more like a misbehaving kid than a mafioso. I’m tempted to kick the legs out from under him just to be a brat—er, wait, no, not a brat… something else, something that wouldn’t mean Salvatore is right about me.

“Nope, madly in love, bluebirds sing every time I look at him, yada, yada.” I wave my hand and then put them both on my hips. “Now, drinks or not? Because I’ve got a lot of tables to check in on.”

“I think I’m done for the night,” Lorenzo says, standing up and buttoning his jacket. Elio and Xaviaro follow suit on either side of him, but Alessio stays seated and Salvatore pulls his own chair out to sit back down.

“I’ll have my usual,” Sal orders. “Actually, make it a club soda with a lime instead.”

From the look he gives me and the dip of his tone, I hear the implication that he wants to stay sober and sharp in case there’s any trouble. Maybe I should actually get this stupid fluttering heart thing checked out. It could be a serious medical issue.

“Coming right up.”

“Another for me,” Alessio calls after me.

“Nope, you’re cut off.”

“Why?” he complains.

I can’t tell him it’s just because Salvatore is making it too hard to fuck with him, and I need an outlet somewhere, so I just turn and give him a level look that I hope he takes as some kind of knowing. I’m sure he’s done something to earn my wrath, even if I don’t know about it.

I weave through the crowd, making my way to the bar, on high alert every second. Whoever’s working for Don, they could be lurking anywhere. But if they think they’re going to get the jump on me, they’re dreaming. Showing their hand by leaving those photos was their mistake. I’m not scared, I’m pissed, and if they make another move, they’ll learn the difference.

I can feel Salvatore’s eyes on me, and unlike the unsettling feeling I had when I thought I was being followed, knowing he’s watching makes me feel safe.

Even if it’s temporary and barely more than a business arrangement, it’s more than I’ve ever had before.

Chapter 13

DANTE

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