Page 28 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
As I wrench open the restroom door, I immediately collide with something soft, smooth, andrippling. Castellano falls backward and only misses hitting the wall because I’ve got a hand wrapped around her arm.
A gasp parts her lips, and I realize I’ve just broken the only promise I’ve ever made to myself.
I was never meant to touch her again.
And now ... it’s too late.
Trilby
I knew I wasn’t imagining it when I suspected Cristiano’s touch was familiar. There’s a ring of fire around my arm where he’s holding me upright, and like a thought treading a neural pathway, my body fizzes with recognition at the contact.
His words are harsh and at total odds with the way he’s been looking at me since he came to the wrong door.
“Have you been drinking again, Castellano?”
My mouth drops open.
“I should be asking you the same question. Don’t you look where you’re going before you walk out of a room?” I snap, but I regret it instantly. Why, when I’m around this man, do words fly out of my mouth before I can even consider them? I’ve never spoken so curtly to a man before—not least one who wields just as much power over my family’s future as my fiancé does.
He coasts his gaze over me slowly. The way it falls across my stomach and glides over my hips makes me shiver. We’re standing in each other’s space in the middle of the corridor, staring each other down. If anyone were to find us like this, there’d be questions. For me, not him, let’s be clear.
His eyes morph from opaque to sparkling. “What’s with the Dolly Parton mug?”
I glare up at him through my lashes. “I was flustered.”
His hands slide down my arms slowly and drop away. Then the corridor echoes with the sound of cracking knuckles as he stares at me.
“So flustered you forgot where the glass cabinet was?”
My nostrils flare. “It’s easily done. I don’t use the glass cabinet too often.”
“You don’t serve drinks to other male visitors?” Another crack.
“Not usually.” I turn my head for some oxygen. The air in the gap between us is too heated. “Was the whiskey to your liking?”
Out of the corner of my eye, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“It was perfect. Maybe I should drink from a mug more often.”
I can’t help but let a slow smile creep across my lips. “Don’t be thinking you’re going to borrow that mug,” I warn. “It’s my favorite.”
His eyes widen, and I could kick myself. I just told my new brother-in-law I gave him my favorite mug. Is that flirting? I think it’s flirting. Is it obvious? I truly don’t know. I’ve never had to worry about anything like this before.
My breath sticks in my throat when he dips his mouth to my ear, and his words are slow, low, and deep. “Then, Castellano, I’mhonoredyou served it to me.”
It’s a few seconds before he straightens, and by then I’m pink-cheeked and flustered. I must be the ideal opponent at this game. All the man has to do is breathe a whisper in my direction, and I don’t know right from left.
He pushes his hands into his pockets and goes to walk past me, stopping at my shoulder. “Can you do me a favor?” he asks, looking straight ahead.
“Um ... of course,” I reply, remembering my manners.
“Don’t wear that dress when you’re with my brother.”
My heart thumps with dread. “Why?”
“Because he’ll destroy any man who can’t take his eyes off you. And I don’t want to be cleaning up his mess for the next month.”
He walks away before I can respond. Not that I have a response—only a question.
