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Antonio moved between them. “Beating him to death would bring too much attention.” His smile didn’t falter as he met her furious expression. “Neither of us wants that.”
“You don’t know what I want,” Vespa seethed, but the moment he’d given her let her boiling anger re-settle into its usual simmer. “And he’s not my boyfriend!” she shouted after the stained-shoed prick, and was almost amused when he flipped her the bird. Her eyes flicked to Antonio, whose grin had widened and looked almost natural. “You, scram. You’re crimping my style.”
She knew better than to turn her back on this particular Di Salvo, but she figured not even he would turn violent with this many people crowding around them.
And what the fuck was Antonio Di Salvo doing in a bar filled with nothing but normies anyway? Didn’t he have someone to torture for information?
Vespa sidled up to the bar, grateful to find a seat to sink into. Wearing heeled boots had been a mistake, but it had been the tiniest step she could think of taking to add something more feminine to her wardrobe. Besides, they did great things to her ass in her black dress slacks and hid the gun strapped to her ankle well enough.
To her annoyance, Antonio settled into the suddenly vacated seat beside her.
“What?” she asked, refusing to look at him. He was the type of man who knew he looked good. Tall, dark, and fit, with a style that screamed confidence. Most of the women in the bar were likely checking him out, including the ones that were taken. He oozed pheromones, which was more evidence that God hated the world he had created.
Antonio was the worst person she could think of to have that type of sinful draw. Every time her mouth watered around him, she wanted to slap him more. And that was before he opened his mouth.
“Don’t I deserve gratitude for stepping in?” he asked, his tone one that she just knew meant he was laughing at her.
“I had it handled.”
Antonio snorted. “It wasn’t you I was worried about.”
Vespa turned to him, her mouth opening to double down, but he wasn’t being sarcastic. As much as she hated Antonio, he knew her worth in a fight. He’d said so outright. She let more of her frustration at how the night had played out fade as she lifted an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have killed him.”
“This type of place frowns on even a little bloodshed.” He caught the eye of the female bartender with a well-placed smile. “Isn’t that why you picked it? It’s why I come here.”
Her stomach sank as the bartender greeted him by his first name, leaning on the bar to give him a better view of her amazing tits.
“Your usual?” she asked him.
Great. The most annoying Di Salvo came to this bar often enough to have a usual drink. Vespa’s fingers gripped the edges of the bar top. Her luck really did suck.
“What are you having?” Antonio asked, his eyes dark and cold even as he smiled at her. “I’ll buy it as a peace offering.”
“I can afford my own damn drink. Ginger ale,” she ordered. Then she nodded at Antonio. “And I’ll buy whatever he orders. At least this round.” She showed her teeth as she smiled at him. “You’re right. I am grateful.” Grateful she’d found out early enough never to come to this particular bar ever again.
“I’ll have the same,” Antonio said to the bartender, who raised her eyebrow but sauntered off to pull their drinks.
“Scared to imbibe around me?” Vespa asked.
He swiveled toward her. “Anyone who can outshoot me gets my full, sober attention.”
“We’re currently on the same side. I’m not planning on shooting you.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
“Me? Withhold information?” Antonio shook his head. “Never.”
“Right.” Vespa knew better. The Di Salvo in front of her hoarded intel like the currency it was. She hated that she respected him for it. As their sodas were dropped off, she let the bubbles distract her on the way down.
She had no reason to be annoyed. It wasn’t like he’d interrupted anything. She’d tried solo outings to bars before, and they always ended the same way. She just wasn’t the one-night-stand type of girl, and her life didn’t leave room for something deeper. She didn’t want it to.
So she was screwed from the start. Or not screwed. She sucked harder on her straw. “I’ll finish this and get out of here. Didn’t realize this was your place to prowl.” She scanned the bar, seeing plenty of potential candidates eyeing the man beside her. They’d all decked themselves out in much more than boots with a higher heel.
Vespa cut off the thought, flushing with embarrassment. Montrell had called her out for her views on women who put an effort into their appearance. Dressing up didn’t make a woman a slut or send a signal that it was okay to degrade them. It was what had caused her to be left broken and bleeding on the ground years before, but she hadn’t been asking for it. She’d trusted someone she shouldn’t have and had let down her guard.
Never again. She stared at the bubbles in her glass, focusing on a particular one until it loosened from the side to float to the top and disappear.
“Is prowling why you’re here?” Antonio asked.
She blinked, her lips pressing together. “It was stupid to come here.” She didn’t have to swivel to see the type of men filling the space, the kind she wasn’t really interested in.
