Page 34 of Vincenzo
“Amalia …”
“Oh, relax,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I actually came here to have a civil conversation with you.”
He holds my knife in the air. “A civil conversation? With your knife in my wall less than an inch from my head?”
“Pfft, oh please, that was just for fun. Lighten up, Vincenzo.”
“You’re fucking unhinged.”
He’s not wrong.
“Look, I really am here to have a conversation with you. I know you want me gone—or so you say—so wouldn’t it be smarter for you to listen to what I have to say?”
“What isthatsupposed to mean?” he asks, narrowing his gaze on me.
“It means, can you just listen to what I have to say?” I repeat. What isn’t he understanding about that?
“No, theor so you saypart.”
I laugh and close the distance between us, then stop directly in front of him. So close I can smell his delicious cologne wafting off him.
“Please”—I roll my eyes—“after last night, you’re not fooling anyone. You mightsayyou don’t want me, but everything else you do tells me otherwise.” I give another small laugh and bite my lip. His eyes are glued to the movement, and before I have time to process it, he moves my blade to the hand holding his gun, freeing it up to wrap it around my neck.
He pulls me to him and lowers his head to my ear. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Little Hellion. I couldn’t give two shits about you.”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” I say, my voice coming out tight with his hand around my windpipe. “Do you give all the girls you couldn’t give two shits about nicknames?”
Vincenzo chuckles deeply, and the sound burrows inside of me. After a few seconds of silence, he finally releases me, and I let out a couple coughs.
He brushes past me so I turn around, and he walks over to the table, placing his gun and my knife on it. “You have five minutes to tell me what the hell you’re doing here,” he says, his back still facing me.
I open my mouth to speak but am distracted when he takes his suit jacket off and folds it over the chair next to the table. I’m mesmerized by the way his back muscles stretch the dark fabric of his button-up, and when he turns around and starts rolling his sleeves up, I don’t think I can get any more tongue-tied.
He smirks as he leans against the table, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Cat got your tongue, Little Hellion?”
I mentally shake myself out of the trance I was momentarily—and unfortunately—put in.
“The other night, you called me something that I thought was interesting.”
Vincenzo pierces me with his dark eyes.
“A kidnapper.”
He stares at me, but when I don’t continue, he finally says, “Yeah, and?”
“Why’d you call me that?”
He scoffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Come on, Amalia. You know I was spying on you guys, which means you know I know everything.”
I raise a brow at him and nod. “Exactly. So why did you call me that when you know I’m not?”
Letting out an exasperated sigh, he says, “Just because you haven’t done the action yet, doesn’t mean you aren’t one.”
Okay, valid.
“The fact that you came up with the idea in the first place makes you just as bad.”
That has me crinkling my brows but also has a fire igniting in me at the hypocrisy.
