Embrace the Darkness (The Maura Quinn Series Book 1) - Ashley N. Rostek Page 0,115

Being drunk could help numb a lot of things, but not the sting of rejection. As if sensing the change in me, his head popped back up to look at me. “No.” Both of his hands cupped my cheeks. “I want you. Believe me, I really do,” he assured. “But fuck, I can’t hurt him. Jameson loves you. He’s always loved you and as much as I want you for myself…he’s my best friend,” he said, ending on a pleading note, willing me to understand.

I did. We were both drunk and had allowed our hormones to take control. I was hurt and angry with Jamie, but no matter how bad I felt, I’d never want to come between them.

“That’s good to know,” a voice said from behind me, startling us both. Louie’s eyes widened when they saw whoever was standing behind me. I peeked over my shoulder apprehensively. Standing by the front door, which was currently wide open, was Jamie. He held an unreadable mask as he stared down at us.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, anger seeping into my voice. The longer I looked at him, the more the memory from this afternoon replayed in my head.

“Does it matter?” His voice was calm, giving away nothing as to how he felt.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter,” I bit out and stood from Louie’s lap. The world tilted, causing me to tilt with it. I caught myself on the couch. Once I was sure footed, I scooped up my phone and purse.

“What are you doing?” Louie asked, watching me from the floor.

“Going home.” I scrolled through the notifications on my phone. Dean had texted me saying he was outside if I needed him. Perfect! That saved me from calling a car service. I stepped towards the front door to leave, but Jamie hadn’t moved and was blocking my exit. “Please, move,” I said to his chest, refusing to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. He looked sexy as hell, like always. I hated it.

“You can’t drive. We drank an entire bottle of whiskey,” Louie argued, then groaned as he rubbed down his face with his hands. “I’m fucked up. Which means you’re definitely fucked up.”

“I’m not driving. Dean’s outside,” I said, placing my hand on the wall to prevent myself from falling over.

“Give us a minute?” Jamie asked, staring at Louie.

They seemed to do that silent communication thing until Louie eventually nodded. He got to his feet, stumbling on his way up. “Take all the time you need, man,” he said, shuffling into his bedroom, and shut the door. Jamie kicked the front door closed with his heel and leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest.

Fuck my life! I angrily tossed my purse on the couch before plopping down on it. Hunched over with my elbows resting on my knees, I rubbed at my temples. I was too drunk to deal with this shit right now. “What part of me not wanting to see or speak to you again did you not understand?” He stayed silent as he continued to stare at me. “Why the hell are you even here, Jamie?”

“Stefan said you were here.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Wow, talk about answering without actually fucking answering.”

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore, Maura.”

“Then why are you here! What do you want?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I’m here for you?”

“Is that so?” Skeptical, I narrowed my eyes. “Where’s your new whore?”

An angry fire lit in his eyes. It was the first glimpse of emotion he'd let slip since he arrived. “There’s nothing going on between me and Angela. There never has and never will,” he declared with such conviction, it was almost convincing. Almost.

I leaned back against the couch, exhausted. Closing my eyes for only a moment, I got the spins. Bad idea. Abort! Abort! Vomit threatening to erupt from my stomach like a volcano made me sit back up. I took a breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. Please don’t throw up.

“Did you know the De Lucas are who killed my dad?” Jamie asked. I'd known his father was killed during a turf war, but I hadn't known who'd been responsible. “Things have been hostile between us and the Italians for generations. Nicoli’s uncle Giovanni, the don before him, was who put the hit out on my dad. One of Giovanni’s enforcers hid in the backseat of my dad’s