Page 58 of Damaged Beast
“Fucking liar. I can almost smell how wet you are.”
“Prime!”
“You want danger? I can give you danger, love.”
“I want to get this over with, that’s all.”
“Right. I understand.” I nibble on her throat before biting her lower lip. “You keep acting so charming, it won’t be long.”
“Good. Sooner we’re done, the better.”
I hold her there for a long moment, my lips inches from hers, before forcing myself to release her. She steps back, smoothing her blouse, and bends down to sweep her clipboard back into her arms. When she straightens, it’s like she’s got her shield back in place.
God, this fucking girl. I’m ruined for her and I don’t know why. I desperately want to protect her, but she’s right. I need her at that party smiling and laughing and making everyone look at her.
While I find a way to continue my spiral into hell.
CHAPTER 21
DEANNA
“This is a cliche, right?” I lean against Prime’s arm as our driver drops us in front of an old school Italian restaurant. “We’re walking into a dim, smokey back room like we’re in some kind of gangster movie.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“Oh my god, and I bet you’re going to smoke a cigar, right? And drink some bourbon?”
“In my defense, I always drink bourbon.”
“This is crazy. Seriously, how did my life end up like this?”
“Money.” He puts a hand on my thigh, leaning closer. “Power. Erotic pleasure?—“
“Careful, we have a business meeting.”
“Right, we’ll save the erotic pleasure for later.”
Prime gets out and I follow. It’s a warm, muggy evening, and I feel overdressed yet again. He’s in a dark suit and I’m in a lessformal dress, diamonds at my throat and on my ears like one of those women from Ricardo’s party.
I know I’m playing a role. I keep reminding myself that this isn’t me. I’m not the kind of girl who wears designer dresses and priceless jewelry to dinner with my husband. I don’t have a private driver and I don’t splurge on expensive shoes.
Except that’s me now. At least while I’m Prime’s wife.
There are benefits to embracing the darkness.
I can almost forget what bought all this fancy stuff.
I take Prime’s arm as we head inside. A young girl in all black greets us warmly like she’s been waiting for us all night and leads us through the room. More than a few heads turn to watch us pass, and it takes a lot of effort not to start giggling.
Prime gives me a warning glare as we’re taken into a smoky back room.
It’s exactly like I pictured. Big round table set with appetizers, a bottle of wine, glasses, a cigar burning away in an ash tray. Though there’s only one man here, not the dozen I had imagined.
Still, pretty damn close.
“Mr. Carbone.” Prime introduces the pair of us. “It’s good to meet you.”
“You as well, Mr. Spadaro.”
