Page 56 of Sins of the Orchid
“Where is Adriano?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“He drove back into the city.” His answer surprised me; I didn’t expect Adriano to leave without me.
“Why?” I frowned slightly annoyed but then immediately scolded myself. He buried his father today; he didn’t deserve my nagging.
“He is following a trail for me.”
With an erratic beat of my heart, I realized this left me alone with Santi Russo. I wasn’t sure how many guests still lingered downstairs, but it was probably better I called Dad or Uncle Vincent to come and get me.
Santi extended his hand with the glass.
“Want a sip?” My eyebrows tugged together, trying to figure out whether it was a trick question. I was still underage, at least in the States. “It’s been a rough day.”
I eyed his tattooed hand, wrapped around the glass then finally accepted the offered glass. He watched as I brought it to my lips and took a small sip. The coughing was instant.
“Crap,” I muttered through my itchy throat, and watery eyes. “This is just as bad as tequila.”
Dark amusement ghosted in his eyes. “No way. Everything is better than tequila.”
Clearing my throat, I rolled my eyes. “True,” I said softly. “I haven’t been able to smell tequila since that day.”
“Anymore wild, drunken nights?” he asked.
I shrugged, handing him back his drink. “No drunken nights.”
His fingers brushed mine and my pulse fluttered. This thing with Santi was just a schoolgirl crush, nothing more. But it would eventually be the death of me. It had to be smothered and eliminated.
“But, yes to wild nights?” he asked, his expression hooded.
“I’m not telling you,” I blurted out. “You’d tell my father, and my return trip would go down the toilet.”
A smile tilted his lips. “I’m not exactly the kiss and tell type of guy.”
My mind went blank at all the possible meanings of that statement. I was all for kissing Santi, always had been. Maybe it would be a way to get over my dying crush for him. Though the last time, it didn’t take him long to pronounce it a mistake.
I should go before I did something stupid. If Adriano was gone, there was no sense in staying here.
“Hmmm, I’m going to go.” I shifted off the windowsill. Santi stood up from his chair at the same time, and we found each other standing too close, his body brushing against mine. He towered above me, his heat drawing me in.
I watched him take another sip of his drink and place it down onto the side table where the book about the cartel sat.
“You grew up,” he drawled in a soft voice.
I swallowed and not a single word came to mind. His attention made butterflies dance in my stomach. How pathetic was that!
His gaze slid down the length of my body, his voice smooth, making my pulse race. Unwanted heat sparked inside me, and it was hard to keep my face stoic. Santi was every woman’s dream. At twenty-nine, he had half of New York’s women drooling after him and the other half pretended not to fantasize about him.
His mouth twisted into a devastating smirk, one I imagined him using on other women. Instinctively, I took a step backwards and pressed myself further into the window, trying desperately to put some distance between us. I needed it to keep my head. To keep myself from reaching out.
He leaned closer, taking a deep breath and his broad chest filling the space between us.
“Strawberries.”
My brows knitted in confusion. What is he talking about?
“You smell like strawberries.”
The warmth in my stomach spread like fire through every inch of my body and spilled into my chest. I swore it felt like my heart glowed, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe at the way he spoke those words, insinuating.
