Devil at the Altar - Nicole Fox Page 0,11

she Italian? Can she cook?”

“I haven’t found a woman,” I reply, uncharacteristically flustered. “I just … I’ve never met her before.”

“You looked like you knew each other very well,” Levi says. The bastard is loving every minute of this.

I scowl. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you, brother.”

Madolina chuckles. “It seems you have struck a nerve, son.”

“Angelo!” Levi says, grinning. Sometimes I hate this man. “If you have fallen head-over-heels in love with a woman you don’t know, you don’t need to be ashamed. In fact, this will work quite well for us. Remember your father’s proposition?”

“Ultimatum, you mean.”

“I will take you ring shopping right now,” Levi chuckles.

“I’ll make my famous ossobuco alla Milanese to celebrate,” Madolina joins in. “We’ll make it quite the occasion.”

“Curse the Mancini name,” I say ruefully. “You are both as bad as the other. Let’s change the subject. I’ve forgotten the woman already.”

But that isn’t true. Dani—I hear her name in my mind, feel her breath, see the tightness of her ass shifting in those scrubs. It bothers me that I can’t banish her from my mind. For a moment, I regret giving her my number, but then I’m glad that I did.

I’m being stupid, of course. Thinking with my dick, like she said. She’s just a woman. She doesn’t matter to me. She’s a stranger, nothing more.

Albeit, a stranger I would not mind seeing again.

4

Dani

After my shift—which was filled with, surprise surprise, another few ODs—I drive down to the college campus to see Wyatt. I’ve gotten good intel from my inside source that he’s been missing classes, and that’s just not something I’m willing to put up with. It sucks playing the mom figure. But that’s my other job in life, now that our parents are gone. So screw it. Mama Dani it is.

And maybe I’m a little pissed off, too. Maybe I’m flustered. Maybe that asshole in the corridor, Angelo De Maggio, has jack-in-the-boxed into my mind way too many times today.

He was unlikable in pretty much every way possible. I didn’t like how he towered over me. He must’ve been at least six-three. I didn’t like how his eyes were deep blue, almost green, and they bored into me with an unnerving intensity. I didn’t like that his jet-black hair had just strand arranged artfully out of place across his forehead. Maybe part of me liked seeing a little chaos in a man that well put together. God knows everything else about him was GQ-level perfection. His body looked muscular, bulging in his sleek suit, his gold watch glistening. He was a rich asshole to be sure … but a rich asshole who got my blood pumping like crazy. That’s why I had to get out of there, stat. His clean-shaven smile was too dangerous.

I shake my head, dislodging him. I tell myself I didn’t enjoy anything about that exchange. But I haven’t thrown his number out.

Finally, I reach Wyatt’s dorm. I ignore the dirty carpet of the corridor, the blaring music, the conspicuous smell of weed. A shirtless boy walks from one room to another. Somewhere, a girl giggles.

I bang my fist on the door until Wyatt opens up. He rubs at his face, bleary-eyed, red hair a mess.

“Hey, bro,” I say, marching into the room without bothering to ask permission.

I wrinkle my nose in distaste as soon as I’m halfway in. It’s like a bomb’s gone off in here. I’m not Miss Neat Freak, but this is practically a war zone.

Sighing, I start picking his stuff up as I talk. “So apparently calculus is suddenly not important anymore? Apparently, it’s a good idea to throw away your natural gift for math? Huh, that’s a weird one, I’ve gotta say, because I’m pretty sure the day you won that math award in tenth grade was the happiest of your life. Or am I wrong? These socks stink, by the way.”

Wyatt drops onto the bed, folding his ankles, and picks up his Xbox controller. “It’s nice to see you too, sis.”

“Wyatt.” I drop the clothes in the basket. “I’m serious. No more missing classes. You came to college to get an education, not chlamydia.”

“Chlamydia?” he laughs.

I pick up a pair of pink panties with my thumb and forefinger. “These look very chlamydia-ish to me.”

“You know,” he says with mock seriousness, “it’s comments like that that reinforce the patriarchy.”

I yank the Xbox cord from the wall and drop down on the bed. Wyatt just calmly places the controller aside with that

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