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Hulky doesn’t budge, his stance as solid as a mountain. “His instructions were to wait.”
“To wait for him while he gets his rocks off with his fiancée?” My nostrils flare with rage, and I jab my finger into his chest. “Even you must know that’s a little excessive. If you’re allowed to form an opinion, that is.”
Hulky’s eye twitches, but his face is otherwise impassive.
Instantly, I regret what I just said. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”
“Save it,” Hulky snaps, rubbing at his chest in a way that makes me wonder if I have ice picks for nails. I double-check just to be sure, but nope, they’re smooth and buffed into blunt ovals.
“Can you at least let go of me?” I ask. The warmth of his hand on my arm is becoming uncomfortable.
Hulky instantly drops my arm as if I’m on fire, then steps back. “If you try to leave—”
“What, you’ll take my shoes and knock me out cold?” I cross my arms over my chest, shifting my weight to one hip.
“—you won’t get very far, I meant to say. But now that you mention it, that could work too.”
I sigh, my shoulders sagging in defeat. It’s no use. Hulky won’t let me leave. I’m trapped here until that jerk returns. Seeing no other choice, I return to my bar stool.
“What’s your name, anyway?” I ask, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of my dress.
“Hulky Hulk,” he replies with a straight face, and I can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of me.
“That’s a good, strong name,” I remark.
“Thank you,” he replies. As if those words were a secret code, Hulky visibly relaxes. He takes a step back, widens his stance, and folds one hand over the other. I’m pretty sure I only said ‘thank you’ and not ‘at ease,’ but something tells me there’s no point trying to figure out Hulky.
As he shifts, I catch a glint of gold on his ring finger. A wedding band. Huh. Why does the fact that Hulky is married surprise me?
“He cares for you.” As soon as the words tumble out of Hulky’s mouth, he stiffens, his jaw clenching as if he wants to snatch them back. I’m about to dig into what he just said when I see Dante approaching, and my stupid breath catches again.
Dante’s eyes—like embers of smoky quartz—hold mine captive until he comes to a stop right in front of me, his thighs brushing the front of my knees.
He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body, his spicy cologne mingling with the scent of expensive whiskey on his breath.
His gaze slowly sweeps over me, taking in my dress, my hair, and my face until I can almost taste the tension crackling in the air between us. Despite my irritation, a throb begins between my legs.
“I’ll take it from here, Pietro,” Dante says, still not taking his eyes off me. He looms over me, making me feel small and vulnerable.
“Boss.” Hulky—Pietro, apparently—nods and moves a few steps away, but I notice he doesn’t leave. His footsteps fade into the background noise of the club.
“Let’s go talk,” Dante murmurs, and the low rumble of his voice vibrates through me.
“I think we’re way past talking,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to school my face into a mask of fury. I fail miserably, but at least my voice doesn’t waver. “Why don’t you go back to your . . .” I wave a hand dismissively toward the VIP lounge, “. . . fiancée?”
Dante ignores my question and instead continues to sear me with his gaze. His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking visibly. “Now, Addy,” he commands.
“Fuck off.” The words come out as a hiss between clenched teeth.
Something flashes across his face, and then he leans over me, bracing both hands on the bartop, caging me in and closing the gap between us. The nightclub disappears as my world contracts, and all I see is him. My gaze travels up his muscled chest and neck before finally meeting his molten silver gaze.
He’s too close. His heat surrounds me, his breath fanning against my lips. I raise my hands to his chest to push him away but somehow get distracted by his nearness, so they hang uselessly on his lapels, the fabric smooth under my fingers.
“What are you doing?” My hands finally cooperate and push against his muscled chest, but whether I haven’t applied enough force or he’s too stubborn, I can’t tell because he doesn’t budge. His body is like a wall of solid heat.
He bends his head, letting his lips trail along my temple before he whispers into my ear. “I want to talk to you. Alone.” His stubble scratches lightly against me, raising goosebumps on my skin.
The last dredges of my anger evaporate as my body completely betrays me. My nipples harden into painful points as my fingers find their way into his partially open shirt, running against the warm inked skin beneath. But even while his big body forms a warm cocoon, I’m not completely lost on the fact that there are other people sitting at this bar.
