Page 31 of His Kidnapped Queen
It’s not like I can do anything. Oscar isn’t one of my men. He’s a friend, but he runs his own empire. I have no real power over him.
“Who did you just let in?” I ask, and Oscar tilts his head.
“Not any of Nico’s friends.”
“That’s not what I asked.” My voice is strained and there’s an edge of warning to it. Oscar’s blue eyes flash.
“Don’t treat me like one of your men just because I did you a favor, Rossi.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t have a hair trigger like Nico, but I feel like it.
I need to find her.
“Please. It’s important.”
“Her name was Angela. Ricardo, I think she said her last name was. She’s just a model.” He shrugs.
Angela?Have I lost my damn mind? Am I drunk? I look down at the glass in my hand and realize it’s just my second.
It’s a fake name. It has to be. But I only saw her for a split second…
“Where did she go?” Oscar doesn’t answer and I grab his arm. “Oscar. Where did she go?”
“Jesus, you’ve really got a hard-on for this girl. She ditched me on the dance floor, alright?” Oscar says, wrenching away from me. “Don’t know where she went.”
I nod, moving toward the bathroom to find Sophia. I know it’s her. I only saw her for a moment but Iknowit.
I feel it, somewhere in my bones, and I couldn’t explain that to anyone, but it doesn’t matter. I saw her.
She’s here.
I try not to think about how Oscar probably hit on her and shove my way through the crowd. The bathroom hallway is less crowded, just a couple girls in line and…
Sophia.I want to call out her name, but something stops me. That gold dress she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination and I think about how her ass would jiggle if I slapped it, how she’d look with her ass up, on all fours, showing me everything.
I can’t stop myself, can’t really think. I only react, which isn’t normal for me.
She’s already leaning against the wall, so I pin her there, my palms on either side of her head, bracing myself against the brick.
She looks up at me with wide, frightened blue eyes.
“You changed your hair,” is all I can manage to say as I move one hand to move her bangs out of her face.
She shivers but doesn’t move away.
“Get away from me.” It’s weak and small. “I don’t know who you are.”
“Bullshit,” I curse, leaning closer to her. “You know exactly who I am. And I know who you are.”
“You don’t,” she whispers. “Not anymore.”
I lean down further, so close I could lean just slightly down and brush my lips across hers.
“And who’s fault is that?”
She lets out a long breath. “I’m not that person anymore.”
“So what? You’reAngela?” I scoff. “You got your hair cut and you think that makes you someone else?”
