Page 155 of Desperate Actions

But then he kisses me.

And just like that, everything else disappears.

His lips are firm but teasing, his thumb stroking over the curve of my jaw, making me dizzy, making me want more.

Christ, I have no dignity when it comes to this man.

I melt against him, my fingers curling into his chest, his scent filling my lungs, his heat wrapping around me like a second skin.

“Hello, Wife,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to brush his lips over mine again, softer this time.

A promise. A tease.

“Hi,” I manage, my voice breathless.

“You, uh, wanna grab a bite with me before Santos drives you home?”

“Yes.”

The word leaves my lips before I can even think of another answer. Because the thought of not being with him, of sitting in that massive house alone, knowing he’s out there in the city tangled in something I don’t fully understand.

I hate it.

I mean that.I hate it.

I know my father is involved somehow, and I know Sammy won’t tell me more than he thinks I can handle. I should be used to that. But I’m not.

Still, at least tonight I get this. I get him for a little while.

He watches me for a moment, his eyes knowing, seeing too much, before he nods and steps back.

“Take your sweater and purse. It’s chilly out,” he says, already reaching for it like he doesn’t trust me to remember.

I frown. “We’re not just going to the cafeteria?”

“Nah, Pixie,” he replies with a lazy smirk, his hand settling at the small of my back as he guides me to the door. “I’m taking you to one of my favorite places.”

The small eatery is tucked away in a quiet side street, one of those places you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it. There’s no fancy sign, no flashy décor.

Just dim lighting, the scent of garlic, chili, and freshly pulled noodles thick in the air, and a few scattered tables occupied by old men playing chess.

The moment we step inside, I feel watched.

Not by the people dining.

But by his men.

I don’t need to turn around to know there are at least three of them stationed outside, probably a couple more blending into the restaurant itself.

Sammy never really lets me out of his sight.

And I don’t know how to feel about that.

Maybe I should be angry, but I’m not. Life can be dangerous, I understand all about that.

I’m the only daughter of Angel Fury, for fuck’s sake.

“So, Chinese?” I ask, tilting my head up at him as he leads me toward a table.

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