Page 14 of Big Bad Wolf

“Forgive me, but you’re boring.” I surprise him with honesty. Not because I want to hurt his feelings but because I hope to save another unsuspecting woman the pain I’ve experienced this evening.

“I am not,” Davide defends himself with a whine. And that’s precisely my point. He’s a giant baby—a rich one, but a baby, nonetheless. Throughout his entire life, people have given him everything he wanted and doted on him whether he deserved it or not. He doesn’t know how to behave when he isn’t the center of attention.

“Fine, you’re not. Believe whatever you want. It’s none of my business anyway,” I mutter between sips of wine, excited that the music seems to be coming to an end. I watch Donna wind down, extracting herself from my father’s embrace to return to our table.

She offers me a sympathetic look, aware she isn’t keeping her side of the bargain and providing a buffer between Davide and me. I don’t blame her. Every time she tries to leave the dance floor, my father begins another foxtrot or waltz—I don’t know when that man took lessons.

“It looks like your stepmother can’t save you yet,” Davide snickers as my father pulls an exhausted-looking Donna back onto the floor. He’s more observant than I realized. “If you don’t want to talk, we don’t have to say anything, Scarlett. I’m only trying to make this situation less awkward.”

“Thank you for trying to help, but I don’t want to be here. No offense.” I produce a fake smile and look away, uncomfortable with Davide's icy glare. It’s his usual disposition—cold and stoic. It’s always impossible to gauge his mood.

“None taken,” he slurs as he downs his fourth glass of wine. “I don’t want to be here either. There are a thousand other things I could be doing.” He smirks and clinks his wine on my glass of iced tea. “But I’d never pass on an opportunity to piss off Vasily.”

The mention of his name makes my heart race with panic. How does he know Vas? Does my father know? As I think about possible lies to cover my tracks, I fidget with my napkin, tying it into a knot as nothing plausible comes to mind. I’ve never been a good liar.

Davide cranes his neck to look directly into my flushed face. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.” He holds an index to his broad smile and winks.

A part of me wants to slap that grin off his face, but I need his discretion. This is a delicate matter that needs to be handled properly. I’m not ashamed of Vasily. I may not know precisely what I'm feeling—it’s all new to me—but I miss him when he’s not around, and count the hours until we see each other again.

Maybe I’m naïve. Some men only want one thing, and when they get it, you never hear from them again. Is that what this is?

It doesn’t feel like a one-night stand kind of thing. Vasily runs a significant risk by pursuing me. He’ll be the head of his family one day and is supposed to make decisions with the bratva in mind.

What does he have to gain from me?

What on earth do I bring to the table? A conquest to brag about? An inexperienced girl to corrupt and add another notch to his headboard? Do men still do that?

I eye Davide with suspicion and try to figure out what he wants in return. “Why would you keep it to yourself when you love chaos? I might be pushing my luck, but I’m genuinely curious.”

He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it and somehow making it look better. He shrugs and lifts his brows without the slightest worry written on his perfect face. The man could be a model, but that would probably be too much work for him. I’m pretty sure he’s never worked a day in his life.

“I’m not fond of advertising my friendship with Russian mobsters. The Italians have much to offer, but the Russians and Irish also bring in a profit. Why alienate one team when my family can work with everyone?”

“So, you play both teams?” Unfamiliar with specific terms, I ask a follow-up question that removes the smile from his face.

“Bothsides, not both teams,” he snaps, apparently offended by semantics.

“What’s the difference?” I am genuinely confused.

“Never mind,” Davide scoffs, then continues leaning toward me until he can whisper in my ear. He places his arm around my shoulders and brushes a long strand of hair off my cheek. “Besides, I don’t like your father enough to give him a heads-up. But he will find out soon enough. How do you expect to keep it from him?”

The touch of his clammy hand on my bare skin makes me shrink. I scoot away and peel his arm from my body. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. If my parents return, tell them I’ll be back soon.”

“Whatever. Take your time.” Davide returns to his drink and checks his messages, oblivious to my direction. He doesn’t see me pass the corridor leading toward the restrooms or notice me slip into the lobby.

I don’t care what anyone says. I’m a twenty-two-year-old woman with a mind of my own, and I don’t appreciate setups and interference. As I step through the revolving door, I’m immediately struck by a cool October breeze. Another cold front must have moved in while I was inside.

I hug my chest, warming my bare arms with my hands as I head to the line of taxis waiting by the curb. Maybe I can beat my parents home, grab my things, and head to my apartment. The night is early enough to see Vasily—if he hasn’t made other plans.

Approaching the curb, I line up behind a couple arguing about their early departure and having to return home for the kids. I give the woman an awkward smile and hope they discontinue their vicious banter now that I’m here.

They don’t.

“Ma’am? I’ll show you to your car.” The sound of Ralph’s voice catches me off guard.

I stumble back, then lift my gaze to see his familiar face. He smiles and points to a limo parked behind the row of taxis. I squint to get a better look and see a pair of green eyes glaring at me from the backseat.Oh my God, he’s here.

“Wait a minute, we were here first!” The man arguing with his wife rudely grabs Ralph’s elbow and tugs him backward.

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