Page 41 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
My throat burns as the alcohol sears its way to my stomach, but as soon as the flame sizzles out, I feel calm. I feel invincible.
I feel . . .hot.
Before my brain has a chance to catch up with the message my skin is sending, Sandrine confirms my worst fear and my most dangerous bet.
“Babysitter. Ten o’clock.”
I slowly pan my gaze across the dance floor. He emerges from the men’s room and walks purposefully toward us. The crowd seems to part for him without him even sparing a glance. In fact, his focus is entirely on me.
A whole-body tremor racks me from head to toe.
Sandrine turns her head so the movement of her lips is indecipherable. “You show him inappropriate, girl.”
I reach out to grab her hand—I suddenly don’t want to be left alone with him—but she’s gone.
My heart thumps at the bottom of my neck, my pulse rivalling the heavy bass bouncing off the walls of the club.
Each step Cristiano takes toward me extracts a little bit more of my breath. By the time he’s standing mere inches away, forcing me to tilt my face up to his at an uncomfortable angle, I’m dizzy.
“What are you doing?” His lids are lowered, his irises almost black under the neon lights, and his voice is a low growl that rumbles beneath my skin.
I gulp warm air. “I’m enjoying a night out with my friend.”
His words are bitten out. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”
“The restroom.”
His pupils are like sharp stones, but I can still see a world of annoyance dancing behind them.
“You have ten minutes.”
My throat heats. “Until you leave?” I’m stunned at myself. I’ve never spoken to another man this way. I’ve never taunted someone like this or flirted sobrazenly. And don’t get me started on the fact I already belong to the most powerful man in New York, yet I’m toying withhis brother. If my nights weren’t already busy with recounting the hell I’ve lived through, this would be the stuff of nightmares.
His chest rises and falls with measured breaths. “Until I drag you the fuck out of here.”
I’ve gone too far already, and I’m in so deep I’m struggling to see the benefit in pulling back at this late stage. “Why ten minutes? Why don’t you just drag me out now?”
He leans forward until I can feel the bristles on his cheek against the side of my face. “Because I figured you’d want to say goodbye to your friend, and I just saw her disappear out the back with one of my brother’s soldiers.”
What?
She’ll have no idea who he is, and I can’t let her get involved with this family. If I can’t save myself, I can save Sandrine.
I step backward and hit the bar. His body seems to wrap itself around me, trapping me into the small space. He presses a hand to my chest, and heat radiates out from where his skin meets mine. He doesn’t push hard, but it’s a warning.Don’t fucking move.
His warm timbre rumbles in my ear. “He’s young. She’s hot. I give him five minutes max.”
Something inside me twists painfully. He thinks Sandrine is hot.
I mean, sheishot. She’s drop-dead gorgeous. He wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if he didn’t notice her in that way. But why does it bother me to the point I might need a painkiller to ease the tightness in my chest?
I draw my focus back to what he just said. “They went outside? Like, together?”
I feel his smile against my jawline.
“Yeah.”
Wetness collects in my underwear, and I blush from my breasts to my hairline.What on earth?She’s my best friend—why do I feel like I’m turned on? I don’t care a dime when and where she gets off, as long as she’s safe.
