my neck and over my chest, and I was certain, had I been standing, they would have traveled all the way down to my toes and back up again.
I was two seconds away from just getting up and walking out, but his words stopped me. “Just looking for what Luca Benetti finds so interesting," he replied smoothly. He leaned back in his chair and cross his arms over his lap. “Now, don’t get me wrong. You’re exceptionally beautiful, but then, beautiful women have been throwing themselves a Luca for years. He, Sal, and Leo have beautiful women on tap.”
My stomach dipped in unfounded jealousy at that statement. Luca was probably going to kill me. My last rational thoughts should be of self-preservation, not jealousy at who Luca was sleeping with.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told him, and it was the truth. I had no idea what Luca thought of me but, more importantly, I had no idea how this man would know that Luca even knows who I am. I haven’t uttered a word about that night.
To anyone.
He looked at me in the same way a parent might look at their child in disappointment. “Lying? Is that what we’re doing, Remy?”
He knew my name.
My heart started playing a tempo of terror inside my chest. This man knew my name and knew where to find me. He knew Luca and I were acquaintances of sorts. He knew just enough to terrify the shit out of me.
Was he here to finally clean up the mess I witnessed?
Would Luca really send someone to kill me in broad daylight or was this just another one of his sick cat and mouse games?
I stuck to my story because I didn’t know what else to do. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted. “Who are you?”
He cocked his head. “You needn’t worry about who I am, but-”
I don’t know if it was lack of sleep, fearing for my life, the confusion, or my shot nerves, but I wasn’t going to do this. “I don’t know who you are,” I snapped, interrupting whatever he had been about to say. “And, frankly, I really don’t care. I care that you sat down, uninvited, and have the nerve to sit there and act like I have to put up with your cryptic shit. Because I have news for you. I don’t.”
His head jerked back, and his lip curled in a smirk. “You know, you really should be careful who you talk to like that, Remy,” he said, responding to my outburst. “You never know who you may offend.”
The difference between this man and Luca Benetti? I knew who Luca Benetti was and knew I should fear him. I didn’t know who this asshole was, so he didn’t deserve my fear unless he gave me a solid reason to be afraid of him.
“Then tell me who you are,” I insisted. “You’re sitting there as if I should know who are and like it should matter to me, but I don’t know who you are. And, unless you’re going to tell me, I don’t give a shit who you are.”
“I see fucking Luca has made you brave,” he commented snidely.
I wanted to throw my drink at him.
Instead, I leaned forward in an attempt to keep our conversation semi-private. “I’m not fucking Luca Benetti,” I hissed. “I don’t even know the man.” That part was true. I knew his legend, but I didn’t know the man. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. So, whatever you’re playing at, go back and tell your source, informant, gossipy hairdresser, or whoever the hell to get their fact straight before they open their mouths.”
Before I could process what he was about, he had leaned across the table and snatched my forearm, yanking me further towards him. His grip was punishing, but I wasn’t about to cower to this asshole. “Here’s the thing, Remy,” he sneered. “You might be spreading your legs for a Benetti, but you’re shit unless you have a ring on your finger. So, if I were you, I’d rein in that temper and learn when to keep that smart mouth shut, or I’ll be happy to shut it for you.”
He let go of my arm, tossing it back as if he were throwing away trash. I stood up, furious that I didn’t know who this man was or whose side he was on. I stared down at him as I hooked my purse over my