The guy looked at Adamo, which was ridiculous in itself, but of course, Adamo was the highest ranking Camorra member present. He was number fourth after his three older brothers after all.
“Let us go,” Adamo ordered in a hard voice, and both men loosened their hold.
Dima stepped back. “Don’t worry about my interference again. I’ll attend to business in Chicago from now on.”
I doubted he’d really leave me out of sight. He’d stay close so he could intervene if anything happened but I’d call my father just in case to tell him I’d sent Dima away. Dad would be pissed off and try to convince me to return home, no doubt.
“Dima, let us talk once you’ve calmed down, all right?”
He didn’t say anything, only stalked off toward his car.
“If you miss a race, you risk disqualification!” Crank called but Dima didn’t react. He got in his car and drove away.
I sighed.
Adamo wiped the back of his hand over his cut, not taking his eyes off me. Slowly the crowd scattered. I wondered if last night had been worth the fight with Dima. What had it really accomplished except pissing off my best friend, and probably Adamo, too? I hadn’t thought it through. I’d reacted out of fear, which was a stupid thing to do. Because I’d felt like losing control, I’d tried to exert control over Adamo in the easiest way I could think of.
Now I’d created a mess, and my body still hummed with desire when I looked at the man before me, especially covered in blood because he’d fought for me.
It was such a damsel-in-distress thing to think, to feel turned on by, but my base instincts were obviously stronger than my stubbornness.
My attention was all over the place during the next race, so even though I started in the front row right beside Adamo, I finished as tenth. Of course, Adamo had played a huge part in my bad result. He’d cut me viciously after the start, so I’d briefly lost control of my car and taken a detour over the bumpy shoulder of the road.
Not that I hadn’t done the same to other racers, but so far Adamo hadn’t showed me his ruthless side. I had to admit it only made me desire him more. I didn’t want to be coddled by anyone. That night after the race the following party was boisterous, and soon most people were drunk or passed out.
I’d only drunk a glass of the slightly less disgusting concoction with peach Schnaps someone had created. Adamo and I had kept an eye on each other all through the evening but hadn’t talked. Now that Dima wasn’t my shadow, many other racers came by to chat and many of them were more interesting than I’d given them credit for. As the crowd dwindled, I got restless. Something in me called to seek Adamo’s closeness but I resisted.
To my surprise, he sought me out when I was heading back to my car. “Already leaving?” he asked, close by, making me jump. I threw him a glance over my shoulder. “Nothing kept my attention.”
Adamo caught up with me. “Maybe I can. I bought a bottle of the best vodka I could find in the last liquor store we passed by. How about we share a drink?”
I stopped. After how our last encounter had ended for him, I was wary of his motives. Trust wasn’t something I handed out freely. Despite my distrust, I nodded and followed him toward his car, which was far away from most of the others. Dark and secluded.
We shared a drink in silence, leaning against the hood of his car, our shoulders brushing once more. With the music from the party in the background—for once a slower, melodic piece—this felt almost romantic.
“Are you pissed?” I asked eventually.
“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”
“That’s not a motto I live by.”
“I bet,” Adamo said. He straightened and moved in front of me, towering over my head.
I didn’t move, only peered up at him calmly. Slowly he leaned down. “You look as if you want to run. Are you scared of kissing me again?”
“I’m not scared of anything,” I muttered. “But I’d rather not have to kick you in the balls because you feel the need to avenge your hurt pride and forget what the word no means.”
Adamo braced one hand on the hood, bringing our faces so close together, the heat of his lips seared mine. “I’m fluent in