arm, and then down my belly and then—oh, fuck—around my waist.
I know he wants to bend me over and tear away the fabric of my pants to bare me to his touch, then fuck me ravenously as I feel every hot, wet inch of him.
Or maybe I’m projecting. Maybe that’s my fantasy.
“I’d make it last long,” he whispers. “I’d bring you to the edge again and again, but then pull back, making your release seem like a faraway dream. And only when you stopped believing it will ever come, only then would I let you have it.”
That’s it. Far too much. I grab his hand, pushing it firmly away. It takes more willpower than I care to admit. “I’m working,” I snap. “Now, sir, please stop this completely unacceptable behavior.”
“Of course, miss. Thank you so much for your help.” After a moment, he furrows his eyebrow. “Is that lady okay?”
I laugh bitterly. “Do you care? You seemed to have more than a few choice words for her.”
I have to work hard to return to casual banter after the filthy fantasies that just poured from Angelo’s mouth like shadows. It’s like stepping from a sauna into an ice bath. But I kind of like the contrast, as though any second we could return to the burning heat. It keeps me on my toes.
He shrugs. “She had her phone in her hand right after she rear-ended us. I saw it in the rear-view. But sometimes I let my anger get the better of me.”
“Maybe you should see a therapist.”
He snorts. “When pigs fly; when hell freezes over. Perhaps then I’ll see a therapist.”
I’m about to laugh again—thinking about how easy this feels, how natural, and how dangerous because even now I can see how this could become something more than casual—when I feel Ricky standing behind us.
“You all set?” he asks.
I nod, moving away from the car. “Have a safe night, sir,” I say.
Angelo tosses me a knowing nod as he rises to his feet. “Thank you, miss. Don’t get into any trouble.”
Then he’s gone.
We clamber back in the cab of the ambulance. As soon as we’re back in, Ricky looks at me and asks, “So, you gonna tell me what that was all about? Did you know that guy?”
I shake my head firmly and look out at the night so he can’t see my expression. But I can see it in the window. It’s exactly what I’d expect it to be: confused and yet full of desire, wanting Angelo and not wanting him, hating him and craving him at the same time.
“No,” I say finally. “He’s nobody.”
For one blissful moment, I can almost believe it.
7
Angelo
As Giuseppe calls another car, I pace up and down at the side of the road. Standing still is something I find difficult at the best of times. Right now, with the exchange with Dani still bouncing around my head, it’s impossible.
She confuses me. A fucking wild, indulgent temptation, the last thing I need right now. It feels easy to slip into rhythm with her, into the back-and-forth. Far too easy. Anything so comfortable and warm can only be a distraction. Happy things, easy things—that is what makes a man soft. That is what ruins men like me.
I do not intend to be undone by something so insignificant as a woman.
I have to remember who I am: Angelo De Maggio. Cold. Emotionless. Savage. I have killed men and I will do so again.
I turn as Giuseppe approaches, glad for the distraction. “About five minutes, boss,” he says, still looking odd.
“What is wrong with you, man?”
He flinches. Of course it’s not fair that I’m taking out my confusion on him. But his doughy eyes and general hangdog demeanor are starting to piss me off.
“It’s nothing, boss.”
I just stare at him, and then keep staring. Giuseppe and I get on well, but there’s no mistaking who’s in charge.
Finally, he sighs and says, “My wife’s in labor and there’s some complications, the doctors are telling me. I’m just a bit worried, is all.”
I blink. Then I shake my head in disbelief. “You mean your wife is in labor right now?”
He nods.
“Then why the fuck were you at the club?”
“Don Carlo wanted me to check the security, just to be on the safe side after The Albanian … after what happened with the Albanians.”
I don’t miss that, how he almost referred to it as The Albanian Fuck-Up or something similar, which most likely means, since he stopped himself, that word has