Page 19 of Be With Me
He couldn’t possibly know that. But the momentary flicker in my expression must have given me away. I was ninety-nine percent sure my client wasn’t going to show, and I wasn’t a good liar.
He began walking toward me.
Fear and panic tangled with something much worse—something dark and electric that spread through my chest, buzzing through every nerve. His presence turned the dial up on reality, every detail sharper, more intense.
It thrilled and terrified me all at once.
Was he here to punish me for my parting gift? I was sure a man like him didn’t love getting physically bested by a girl.
Do something, Mia.
Keeping my gaze locked on him, I shoved my hand into my desk drawer, fingers fumbling until they closed around the cold metal of my nail file. I yanked it out and held it up like a dagger. “Stay back.”
He stopped, amusement dancing across his features as he took in my makeshift weapon.
“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish with that?”
“Don’t patronize me,” I hissed, tightening my grip.
He gestured lazily toward the nail file. “You’re a lot more likely to hurt yourself than you are to hurt me with that thing.”
I groaned internally because he was right. This man was a six-foot-something wall of muscle, and I knew that because I’d felt it. Felthim. On top of me. Against me.
And now here he was again, standing in my studio in a navy suit made from what looked like high-quality Italian wool, tailored to emphasize the shape of his lethal body.
Let’s get real. Yesterday had been a fluke. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him if he wanted to hurt me. Even if I lunged, he’d swat me away like a fly.
I tossed the useless nail file back into the drawer with a clatter. “What are you doing here?”
He rolled his shoulders and glanced around the studio. “Is this how you greet all of your prospective clients? By threatening them with personal grooming objects?”
“You’re not a prospective client. How did you find me?”
“Fabi told me.”
Lie. “She’d never.”
A mocking smirk tugged on his lips. “Just checking to see how loyal you think your friends are.”
“Loyal enough that if I called her right now, she’d get here fast and demand to know why you’re intimidating me.”
“Intimidating?” He took another step forward, gaze pinned to mine. “We’re just having a conversation,Mia.”
The way he said my name—low, deliberate—sent an unwanted shiver down my spine.
“I saw you on TV. You’re all over the news.”
I winced.Damn it.
“It’s a shame I didn’t place you right away.” His voice dropped lower, became silkier. “If I’d known you were the enemy, I would have enjoyed having you beneath me even more.”
My thoughts scrambled, tripping over themselves. What was I supposed to say to that? I hated the way my skin warmed, hated the way my gaze suddenly couldn’t leave his. Why did he have to be so impossibly beautiful? The kind of beauty that made you forget—momentarily—how dangerous he was.
Romolo pulled out the chair in front of my desk and lowered himself into it, looking as comfortable as if he owned the place. He gestured for me to sit, like I was the guest inhisstudio.
After a second, I sat down. I hated giving him the impression he could boss me around, but I just wanted this over with. Maybe playing along would get him the hell out of here faster.
That condescending smirk was still playing on his lips. “I kept trying to figure out why you showed up at the party only to hide inside. Now that I know who you are, I’m back to thinking I was right about you being a spy.” Elbow propped on the armrest, he dragged his index finger over his bottom lip and then slowly leaned back in the chair, letting his jacket fall open to reveal…
