Page 29 of When She Unravels
And he’s staring at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say under my breath.
He’s at a table with Ras, three other men I don’t know, and three stunning women dressed in expensive clothes and enough fine jewelry to make them sparkle.
De Rossi lifts his glass of red wine and takes a long sip, all the while drinking me in with his eyes. I feel him on my cheeks, my décolleté… My nipples grow hard from a particularly sharp breeze, and I shiver.
Vilde elbows me. “Maybe you can ask Ras to vouch for you.”
I shake my head and turn back around. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.”
When the waiter hands us the menus, my eyes bulge. Twenty-five euros for a salad? Fifty euros for a piece of fish? I slam the menu closed and put it on the bar.
The girls feel bad that they didn’t realize I wouldn’t have my ID, so they kindly offer to pay for me, but I tell them I’m not hungry. They’ve been generous enough to me as is. I should have asked to get paid for the week I worked before I left Revolvr, but I was so distracted by the mention of a contract, it slipped my mind.
When the food arrives, my stomach starts to growl, so I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. The second I come out, I slam right into a hard, warm body.
“Oof!”
Strong hands wrap around my waist. Immediately, I know it’s him.
“What are you—”
“Tell me, what did you hope to accomplish by showing up here dressed like this?” he says close to my ear. Close enough for his breath to caress my neck.
My pulse speeds. “What—”
“If you wanted attention, you got it.”
I tug his hands off me. “You have no idea what I want.”
“You like having men’s hungry eyes on you. Is that it?”
“I think you’re just upset I caughtyoulooking.”
My words slam his mouth shut. I think he might leave me alone, but instead, his hand cinches my wrist.
“What now?” I demand as he pulls me in the direction of the bar. People are staring at us, but if he notices it, he doesn’t care. In fact, it’s almost like hewantsthem to see us together. Instead of taking the most direct route, he walks me all the way around the dining room.
“I don’t need an escort,” I tell him.
“You have no idea what you need.”
We make it to the bar, and when he lets go of me, he leaves behind a bracelet of heat wrapped around my wrist. Astrid and Vilde slide off their stools and stammer out a few panicked hellos, but he barely acknowledges them. He’s about to walk away, but then he notices there’s no plate for me on the counter. He shoots me a furious glare I can’t begin to comprehend and waves the bartender over. The young man nearly trips over his feet.
“Si, Señor De Ross—”
“Put their bill on my tab,” he snaps.
My jaw drops. Excuse me? Does he think I’m some charity case? Didn’t I just prove to him I don’t need any handouts? “You can’t do this,” I say.
“Keep telling me what I can’t do.”
The warning in his voice is impossible to miss. I meet his dark eyes and swallow. “I’m not going to order anything.”
He turns back to the bartender. “Have the chef prepare the catch of the day, the octopus, ceviche, and all the sides.” Then he leans into my ear again. “If you don’t eat what I ordered, I’m going to come back and feed it to you. Think hard about whether you want me to do that in front of the entire restaurant.”
My heart slams against my ribcage, and I tell myself it’s due to my outrage and definitelynotbecause of all the other feelings swirling inside my chest. “You wouldn’t.”
