Page 137 of Tempting Little Thief

“I’m no mister, and you’re trouble. She’s got problems with you, so no. I’m not.” I shrug. “Not that I would have either way.”

Boston stares, and then a wide smile spreads. “Oh man, this is going to be so good. You’re right, she is mad at me, but it’s surface level. I’m blood.”

“Blood means nothing.”

“She knows where I stand at the end of the day.”

“Words mean nothing.”

Boston’s smile is slow, and she nods. “You’re right, Bass. They don’t. I look forward to you changing your mind about me, and while I understand, maybe even appreciate, your decision to be loyal to my sister, I was simply attempting to smooth this over for you to help avoid the inevitable, but now I retract my invitation.” She looks to Damiano, raising a brow.

He swallows his annoyance, looking to me as he accepts her arm, but not before she steps in, rising onto her toes to whisper in my ear, “She’s on strict orders to turn downzerooffers for her hand tonight.”

She pulls back, sending me a wink, and then the two walk off, joining the others in the center of the dance floor.

My eyes zone in on my girl. I watch her for a minute, talking with the Greco boys and a couple other girls who made their way toward her, wondering what girls like that have to say at a place like this.

Coming here was a plan I made, even if the reasons for it shifted a bit here and there, but an opportunity is an opportunity.

One song shifts to the next and I realize I’m being a little bitch, delaying, and for what?

I don’t feel unsure, and I’m not worried about much, so I pick one foot up and then the other, headed right for her.

The Grecos spot me first, standing in the protective mode I’ve noticed they always hold around her, more so than the others, even if she doesn’t see it. I’m betting they all expect me to stand back, to watch from the shadows like I’ve been, but that was never the plan for tonight. So tell me why the closer I get, the tighter this fucking collar feels around my neck?

It’s prickly and unfamiliar, that’s all.

No other reason.

I clench my teeth, the pressure erasing the scratchy feeling along my skin.

She realizes I’m coming now, slowly shifting in her seat and climbing into those pretty, pointy heels until she’s standing. She’s facing me, long fingers wrapped around the back of her chair, digging into the leather of it as if it will keep me from her.

You know better than that, baby.

I step closer, gaze straight shackled to hers, and she follows, keeping two feet between us, green eyes tight with worry but shining with something else. Something deeper.

“Bastian …” she whispers, voice thick.

“Dance with me, Rich Girl.”

She’s shaking her head before I even finish the sentence.

“You can’t tell me no, baby.” My words are teasing, but I’m not sure why. I’m not nervous. I don’t get nervous. “The way I hear it, you’re not allowed to say no. Daddy’s orders, right?”

“Don’t do this,” she murmurs, hands folding in front of her. “My dad is staring.”

“I saw him.”

He’s the first thing I saw when I walked in the door. Tall as fuck, big and broad, filling out a suit like no one I’ve everseen before. Not that I’ve seen many men in suits, but this dude, he’s solid, not overly bulky, but full, thick, every bit the boss she says he is. Even if I hadn’t found his picture online, I’d have known he was the man worth mentioning.

There’s a lot of men in this room right now, a bunch of big strong, no-neck fuckers, but they carry themselves like they want others to know. Slow and thought-out steps, elbows bowed a bit to keep their chests out and chins up. Even blank faces and simple nods while they sip on some kind of golden liquor.

Not Rayo Revenaw, real estate mogul by name, kingpin by might.

“Just bow your head and walk away. Please,” she begs.

I move closer and her chest lifts with a full breath. “Tell him I’m Chloe’s man, just looking for a dance partner ’cause I’ve misplaced mine.”

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