Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (3)

“I don’t want practice. Right now, all I want is a cab out of here.”

“Back to his place?” she teases.

I shudder. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell. Ah, shoot, he’s coming back. Gotta go. Love you, bye!”

I hear her saying something like, “Just smooch him and see if you like—” before I smash the “End Call” button and tuck my phone back under the table.

“Talking about me?” Reggie asks with a waggle of the eyebrows that I’m pretty sure is meant to be seductive.

As he sits back down, I try and look at him objectively without the prism of disinterest tainting my perception.

Maybe Bree is right and I’m being too harsh. He’s not a bad-looking guy. Sure, his three-day beard is more “gamer who forgot to shower” than it is “GQ cover model.”

And sure, he talks about himself a lot and starts way too many sentences with “In my industry…”

But he’s nice enough, I guess.

So why does a night spent with Reggie pale in comparison to a single glance from the man in the expensive suit?

One of them makes my skin crawl.

The other sets my skin on fire.

“In part,” I reply eventually. “Just wanted to let Brianna know I’d be home soon.”

His eyebrows rise. “Not too soon.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“The night’s not over. I have something else planned for us. My friend’s playing a gig at a bar down the street, so I told him we’d stop in.”

I swallow my annoyance. “You didn’t tell me, though.”

“I’m telling you now. It’ll be fun.”

I hate being cornered into things. “Reggie, tonight’s not good.”

“Do you have other plans?” he asks bluntly.

“Well, no.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.”

“Look, Reggie,” I say, starting to panic a little, “you’re a nice guy, and I really appreciate the invite to hang. But like I said, I’ve gotta get home, so I think I’m gonna just head—”

I’m standing as I say this, but before I can even get all the way upright, Reggie’s hand shoots out and snares my wrist, hard.

“Reggie, you’re hurting me.”

His face is purpling with anger. “Don’t be a bitch. I invited you out, and I’m a cool guy, so you really need to just stop being so difficult and come where I tell you to—”

This time, it’s Reggie’s voice that dies suddenly.

Because another hand has joined the fray.

A very big, very strong, very unfamiliar hand.

It latches onto Reggie’s wrist and peels his fingers off of me one by one with terrifying strength.

A voice accompanies it, deep and chilling.

“She told you no.”

I turn to see who spoke, freezing instantly. The handsome man from across the restaurant is no longer at his booth.

No, he’s standing right in front of my table, looking at me as though he knows me.

“Uh…” I sink into my seat.

His face is a dark, impassive mask. But those eyes are full of—well, something. Black ice? Raging fire? Midnight shadow? I’m being melodramatic, but he has the kind of stare that makes me feel a little untethered from reality.

My mouth is fumbling to form words, as if the English language is a brand-new thing for me. There’s a weird buzzing in my ears, too. Like the alarm system of my body is going off on DEFCON 1.

I was right about one thing: the man is tall. And he’s even hotter up close. His vivid blue eyes set a stark contrast to his dark, effortlessly tousled hair. That jawline could cut glass.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Reggie interrupts.

The handsome stranger doesn’t take his eyes off mine for a single second. “Cami and I are childhood friends,” he explains. “We go a long way back.”

Reggie frowns suspiciously. “Seriously? You don’t look like you’re from the Midwest.”

He whirls to face Reggie. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He’s not even talking to me and yet I recoil in fear. Reggie, by contrast, looks like he just shit his pants. His eyes bulge out of their sockets and he leans back as far as he can go, given that his hand is still in the man’s grasp. Anything to get farther away from the fire-breathing titan who’s crash-landed on our date.

“N-no,” Reggie stammers, “I’m just saying, that, like, uh—”

“Good,” the man cuts in brusquely. “I don’t like being called a liar.”

“Right. Uh, yeah. Of course not. No, that’s not what I was saying. I was only asking Camila if—”

“I heard what you asked her. And I heard what she told you. What part of ‘no’ was difficult to understand?”

This time, Reggie can’t even muster up a stutter.

The man steps aside and points towards the exit. “Get the fuck out of here.” His voice is a whip. Every time he speaks, that heat goes racing through me again, popping off like firecrackers in my thighs.

Reggie looks shaky. “I, uh, guess I better be going then…?” he mumbles, not even daring to meet my eyes.

I nod. “Thanks so much for tonight. It was good to get out of the house.”